The weather was brisk and windy – so windy that even out here in the front yard, the sounds of waves crashing against the beach behind the house was so loud that I hadn't heard Mason approach.
Still, I tried to smile as I said, "Sorry, I didn't hear you come up."
Without smiling back, he repeated his original question, more slowly this time. "What are you doing here?"
My smile faltered. "You don't know?"
"If I knew, I wouldn't be asking."
Okay, I definitely wasn't smiling now. "I was hired as a consultant."
From the look on his face, this wasn't what he wanted to hear. In a tight voice, he asked, "To consult about what?"
It was a good question, and the answer was confusing even to myself. "Well, you see…." I blew out a nervous breath. "My family used to own the house, so they wanted someone to help with the historical stuff, I guess."
His expression only darkened. "Who?"
By now, I was seriously rattled. "Sorry, what?"
"Who hired you?"
His hostility was a force to be reckoned with, and yet I tried not to take it personally. This was, after all, Mason Blastoviak, the least likeable of the three brothers.
From watching the show, I already knew that he wasn't a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. In fact, he could be a real bastard sometimes – like now, for example.
But of course, I reminded myself, this might not be so random as it seemed. Although we'd never actually met, he'd surely heard my name years earlier, and not in a good way, after I'd torched Brody's pickup.
Was he putting my face with that name?
But of course he was. Nothing else could explain his overt hostility. I sighed. "Let me guess. You're angry about that thing from high school. I mean, when I was in high school. Not you, of course." At the memory, I almost cringed. "You know, that thing with Brody's truck?"
Without bothering to reply, he said it again. "Who hired you?"
I had to give the guy at least some credit. He could definitely focus. "Alright, fine," I said. "It was Landon Tarrington. There. Are you happy?"
His only answer was a low curse.
By now I felt like cursing, too. "Is that a problem?"
"What do you think?"
Why lie? "I think you're being awfully rude."
"And I think you don't belong here."
"Hey! I belong here you just as much as you do."
He crossed his arms. "Do you?"
Too late, I realized the ridiculousness of my statement. "Okay, maybe I don't belong quite as much as you do. But I do have a contract."
"Not anymore, you don't." He flicked his head toward the street. "So pack your stuff and go. You're fired."
My jaw dropped. "You can't fire me."
"Yeah? Why not?"
Just then, I heard another male voice – this one a lot more familiar – say, "Because I say so, that's why."
I turned to look just in time to see Brody stride up from somewhere behind me. He looked to his brother and said, "So drop it, alright?"
Mason's jaw tightened. "You're not serious."
With growing concern, I looked from brother to brother. I felt like I should say something, but I had no idea what.
Brody told Mason, "I'm plenty serious. And you're forgetting something."
Looking anything but forgetful, Mason replied, "And what's that?'
"This is my job. Remember?"
"Yeah. And my company."
"Our company," Brody corrected. "And it's my fucking house."
Looking more pissed off than ever, Mason replied, "Yeah? So?"
Brody stepped forward until they were standing chest to chest. "So, do I tell you how to run your shit?"
But Mason still wasn't backing down. "Not if you're smart, you don't."
"Exactly," Brody said. "So leave her alone, alright?"
Hearing this, a wave of gratitude washed over me. And yet, I couldn't help but feel incredibly awkward for causing such tension between the brothers.
I looked to Mason and said, "Look, you're obviously angry. And I totally get it. Really, I do –"
"You're wrong," he said.
I frowned up at him. "What?"
"You get nothing." He turned back to Brody and said, "You want this? Go ahead. But don't come bitching to me when she torches the place."
Oh, for crying out loud. "Hey! I'm not the torching type!"
My claim hung there like a cloud in our midst, because all three of us knew that yes, at least some torching had happened in the past – specifically to Brody's truck. And me? I'd been the one holding the lighter.
After a long, awkward moment, I muttered, "Okay fine. But that was a total accident."
And it was, really.
Chapter 33
Arden – Six Years Earlier
Un-freaking-believable.
It was my last week of high school, and everyone was in a glorious mood. Everyone but me.
It was early Wednesday afternoon, and I'd just walked out of school with an advance printout of my final grades. They weren't good. Or at least, they weren't good enough.
In spite of blowing up the chemistry lab and being suspended for two whole weeks, by some miracle – not to mention a whole bunch of extra credit – I'd still managed to pull my grades out of the gutter.
I'd even managed to pass chemistry, but just barely. But barely wasn't good enough, and my scholarship was officially torched, just like my eyebrows.
I looked like a goblin, and I felt like one, too.
But Brody? He looked as amazing as ever. I knew because I still saw him in class – well, whenever he showed up, that is.
We never spoke, not even to argue about what had happened.
After that senseless explosion, I'd called him every name in the book – not that he'd seemed to care, just like he hadn't cared that we'd both been suspended, or that I'd gotten half of the blame for his recklessness.
And why did I share in the blame? It was because although he'd held the lighter, I'd opened the door. The whole thing had been caught on camera, thanks to video surveillance in the hall, and there was no denying the fact that both of us had played a role in what had happened.
Still, it
