“We met the weekend before, when you dropped off a few things at Willa’s apartment.”
I thought back to that night and started feeling sick. I remembered that night. I was slowly getting my things out of the house but couldn’t be too obvious about it. I was on another drop off at Willa’s.
“But we only said hello and that was it. How can you get shallow rich bitch from that?” I asked.
“You were talking to Willa outside before you left. You were telling her about some guy that hit on you over the weekend. You said that you would never stoop so low as to go out with someone who didn’t even know the difference between Manili something and Choo Choo something else. And that he drove a Mini, which you didn’t seem to like either.”
Shit, I did say all that. And I remembered it clearly because I had been frazzled all day. Getting hit on by Barry was the last straw. The fact that he was driving a car that was older than my grandmother wasn’t the real issue. I would have picked on anything because I thought he was a slimy scumbag.
“I couldn’t care less if anyone knows the difference between Jimmy Choo and Manolo Blahnik. Honest. I was just tired and on edge that night. Barry was just the person to be at the center of my bitchfit.” I looked at Mason, holding his eyes to make sure he knew how serious I was. “I’m not a superficial bimbo.”
It stung that he held a grudge all that time because of my thoughtless words. I had said a lot of things that I wished I could take back in my life. This was just another example of my mouth being a sprinter and my brain a marathon runner. The two never agreed on the same speed.
“How about a truce?” Mason offered. He looked sincere. And I really needed a break.
“Fine. But I still don’t want to stay here.”
“I know. But I won’t let you leave. What I will do is stop insulting you. Which means I also won’t ever mention seeing you naked again.”
My face heated up and my eyes went wide. “You just mentioned it. How is that a truce?”
“Sorry. From now on I will never mention again that your naked body is burned onto my brain.”
I gaped at his outstretched hand. He reached over and put my hand in his. He shook my limp appendage and grinned. “There you go, that wasn’t so hard, was it? Now that we are basically friends, we should drink our coffees and watch mindless television together. Besides, you won’t see me around much anyway. I have shit to do.”
“Fine. I’ll stay for a few days.” I was too tired to continue to argue with him and the thought of having to walk back to town made me shudder. It would take me at least an hour.
“What are you doing up there? We’re going to be late,” Mason yelled up the stairs, causing me to drop my hairbrush.
I picked it back up, but instead of finishing brushing my hair I placed it on the vanity. My hair was a lost cause at this stage anyway. I couldn’t even wrangle it into a ponytail. I leaned out the door so he could hear me better and yelled, “You’re the boss. I doubt anyone is going to tell you off for not starting at who-knows-what-time-it-is in the morning.”
If only he knew how hard it was to get ready one-handed. My arm was still throbbing, and I tried not to use it too much. I poked myself in the eye with my mascara wand so many times my eyeballs were writhing in agony.
“You don’t even open until eight,” I muttered under my breath and grabbed a sweatshirt off the pile next to my bed. Mason had gone to Willa’s apartment and packed some of my stuff. Since I was camped out in her living room, all my clothes were still in a suitcase and I didn’t have much in the bathroom, making it easy for him to pick it up. We managed to get along all weekend, and true to his word Mason wasn’t around much. Now it was Monday and we were on our way to work.
“I like to be there early,” he grumbled as he watched me stomp down the stairs.
“I’m ready.”
“Why aren’t you wearing your sweatshirt? It’s cold outside.”
“You try pulling on a sweatshirt one-handed. It takes time. Which obviously I don’t have, since you insist on leaving before it’s even light outside. So let’s go before I fall asleep again.”
He took the sweatshirt from my hands and started threading my bandaged arm through first. He expertly pulled it over my head, then funneled my good arm through before pulling it down my body. Impressive.
“And here I thought you only knew how to pull clothes off,” I said.
He tugged on a strand of my hair. “That is definitely my specialty, but it always pays to diversify. Any good businessman knows that.”
I swatted his hand away and followed him outside. He opened the truck door and helped me up before walking around to his side. We made our way down the pitch black driveway, the only light coming from the truck’s headlights.
I must have dozed off because Mason’s voice jolted me awake. “Can you call Sorensen and tell him the truck will be ready this afternoon? And I need more silicone spray. And wiper blades for the F150. Don’t forget to get food for the meeting. And no more weird little strawberry thingies. You are not organizing a high tea,” he said.
I narrowed my eyes at him, even though he couldn’t see me in the dark of the cab. “Anyone ever tell you that you are like the grey sprinkle on a rainbow donut?”
“Can’t say anyone ever has.”
“And I will not stop getting the strawberry tarts. They melt in your mouth and are the perfect size.”
He ignored
