“I am into Evie. Fuck, I’ve been thinking about her all week.” Really couldn’t tell on my end.
“Then don’t give up. She gives a new meaning to the word stubborn.” Ian chuckles, climbing out of the car. Traitor.
“Any other advice?”
“Yeah, if she remembers you carrying her off the dance floor, guard your balls.” They laugh before Ian shuts the door. I need to remember to kickhimin the balls.
My head spins and the next thing I know sunlight is streaming through my bedroom window, and someone has planted a hatchet in my head. I wince at the sound of the front door slamming. God, why did I drink so much? “Ian?” I call, my voice hoarse.
Instead of Ian, Mason’s grinning face appears in my doorway. How did he get in? “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, closing my eyes and trying to quiet the thump thumping of my brain.
Doubt flashes across his face before he shakes his head. “Do you remember last night at all?”
I have to think about it. Mason showed up at the bar and acted all Neanderthal. I flashed some guys. He dropped off my friends. Damn, it appears my memory ends in his car. Did I fuck him? I jerk back the covers to see I’m wearing a t-shirt and panties, and not the ones I left the house in.
“Nothing happened, Evie. You had alcohol spilled on your clothes. I helped you get a shower and put you to bed. That’s all. I slept on the couch.” While I’m grateful he didn’t take advantage, I can’t help but see it as evidence he isn’t interested in sex with me anymore. So why is he here?
“What are you doing here?” I repeat, forcing myself upright, groaning when my head protests.
“I brought you home. You were trashed, and I didn’t want to leave you alone.”
“That was nice of you. I’m fine now. You can go.”
Ignoring my petulant comment, he leaves the room and returns with a glass of orange juice and two ibuprofen. “Take these. You’ll feel better. Do you think you can eat some toast?”
Food is the last thing I want. “No thanks. I appreciate the ride home and all, Mason, but I just want to sleep off this hangover. I’ll call you later,” I lie.
He frowns and sits on the edge of the bed. “Evie, I’m sorry I didn’t call.”
“Stop,” I interrupt, holding up my palm. “You don’t owe me an explanation. I’m not your girlfriend.”
“I know, but we had a lot of fun together and I really like you. I want to spend more time with you, and I hope you want that too.”
I lean back against the headboard, keeping the covers pulled to my waist. “A week with me, then a week with her? Sorry, just because I’m not looking for a relationship doesn’t mean I’m cool with sending you off to fuck someone else when we aren’t together.” His brow furrows as I continue. “I like you too, and I did have fun, but I think it’s time to give it a rest.” Before you tear my heart out and stomp on it. I have no doubt he can. I’ve really missed him this week, drove myself half crazy wondering why he didn’t call, and that’s just not me. I’m the one who doesn’t call. I’m the one who moves on.
“I’m not fucking anyone else. Why would you think that?” His gaze is intense.
“I’m sure Selena would be heartbroken you’ve forgotten her so quickly.”
He looks at me like I’ve just escaped the nuthouse. “You think I’m fucking Selena?”
“Everything was fine until she called, then you couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Your quick escape was followed by a vanishing act. It’s not hard to figure out.”
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “Selena works for me, that’s all. She’s married, and I’m certainly not fucking her. I wasn’t lying when I said I had to work. It was a last minute emergency that took me out of the country for a week.”
“What kind of emergency?”
He moves to sit beside me. “My job is complicated and sometimes shit happens at the last second that I have to deal with.”
Could he be more vague? “Outside the U.S.?”
“Striking Back helps build and fund abuse shelters in a few other countries. I don’t get called away for that long very often, but it happens. Usually, Alex or Parker handle the overseas management.”
“Oh.” It’s all I can say. I’ve been a jealous wreck and I feel foolish and embarrassed.
He takes my hand, entwining our fingers. “I wasn’t with anyone else.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to tell you who you can see when we aren’t exclusive.”
