The French doors that lead to the kitchen open and out walks Bennett. I think my eyes goggle because, holy shit, he’s huge. His arms are twice the size as before, biceps bulging under his black T-shirt. What the heck do they do during training season? Bench press cars all day?
“Thank god you’re here. Mason didn’t shut up about seeing you the entire plane ride over,” Bennett teasingly says, walking out onto the patio and sliding his arms around Harper from behind. As he holds her, there’s a look of sheer happiness on her face that I haven’t seen since we met up at Mickey’s after I arrived in Woodspire.
I’m just as happy. The only people missing from our core group are Carter, Christy, Michelle, Sorcha, and Zach, our other friends from CU. But Harper said they’d all be coming to watch Bennett’s opening day, and I can’t wait to have everyone back together again.
“Bite me, McIntyre,” Mason replies.
Before I can go over and hug Bennett hello, Mason stares off at something behind me, his face hardening and gaze darkening.
“Hey, man,” Bennett says.
Shit. Right. Where are my manners? I try to turn around and introduce Jordan to Mason.
But I can’t.
Because Mason grabs me and kisses me.
“Oh, shit,” Bennett mumbles under his breath.
“Mason, stop,” I tell him when I’m able to break the kiss.
As quickly as I can, I pull away from him, feeling mortified and guilty. I haven’t told him yet about Jordan. That we’re… I still don’t know what label to use for what’s going on between us because Jordan hasn’t told me. He calls me baby and sweetheart and says that I’m his, but he hasn’t called me his girlfriend yet. I’m literal-minded and need those labels and clear-cut definitions to know where I stand.
I spin around to explain to Jordan that Mason didn’t know. That I didn’t ask for his kiss. God only knows what Jordan is thinking now, especially since we just had sex. Does he think I lied to him when I told him that Mason and I are no longer sleeping together anymore?
My insides plummet to my feet when I twist around to explain.
“Jordan, I—” Can’t get the apology out because the murderous look on his face stops my tongue and anything I’m about to say.
His fists clench and unclench at his side, his naked chest expanding with a harsh breath. The pale sunlight highlights the etched lines of anger and hurt that score his morning-stubbled face. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at me. At Mason.
This is so, so bad.
“Jordan, please let me explain.”
He walks away and into the house without a word.
Oh, god. I need to fix this.
I turn back around.
“I’ll be right back.”
Mason grabs my wrist. “No.”
No?
“I can go,” Harper offers.
I try to smile but it’s weak. “Thanks, but you know it needs to be me. Hey, Bennett. It’s so good to see you.”
Other than theoh, shit, he’s been uncharacteristically quiet.
“You, too,” he replies, his arms still around Harper.
Mason’s sudden bark of accusation makes me jump. “What the hell are you thinking?” The dark, angry part of him that he keeps under lock and key surfaces. “You’re withhim? You’re sleeping withhim? After everything he did to you?”
I haven’t told him Jordan is the man from that night. When I would cry on his shoulder or drunkenly lament with Harper about the man who broke my heart, I never uttered Jordan’s name. It was too painful.
