Especially ones with sexy accents and stunning physiques.
The warm sun presses into my skin as I walk around the corner. I push up the sleeves of my silk blouse above my elbows and pop another button.
I decide on Grinders for lunch, a little sandwich shop Joey turned me on to years ago. It’s the closest in proximity to the bakery, which will allow me to return back to my perch and watch out for Mason so I can have it out with him sooner rather than later.
Stepping under the green awning, I move through the busy outside seating area and head for the door, stepping aside for customers carrying trays. I follow behind a group of business men in suits. When I’m nearly inside the cafe, a laugh turns my head in the direction of the tables and chairs in front of the other half of the building.
A familiar laugh.
I stop, causing someone to bump into my back.
“Sorry,” I mutter, stepping aside and searching the crowd. It only takes me another second to focus on Mason as he laughs again, his head falling back with his obvious enjoyment.
My stomach flutters.
I move closer, through the line of people filing at the door. My eyes lock on the person he’s laughing with, sharing a table with, a meal with.
A date with?
A woman. A young woman, with red hair and striking beauty, laughs with a napkin to her mouth. Her attention wrapped up in Mason. Her eyes trained on his. The two of them are sitting alone at a table in the corner by the wrought iron fence that wraps around the cafe. An intimate spot, maybe?
It sure as fuck looks like it.
My jaw aches as I grind my teeth. My nostrils flare. I cross the pavement with heavy steps and stop next to their table.
Their table.
Mason looks up at me, surprise manifesting in his eyes. He opens his mouth to speak.
I don’t let him.
“Who the hell is this?” I point my finger in the general direction of the redhead. I can’t look away. My eyes stay glued to his. “Are you sleeping with her?”
The woman gasps, then goes completely silent.
Mason winces. “What?”
“What?” I echo, leaning down, keeping my finger extended in the air. My hand shakes. “I said, are you sleeping with her? Is that what you’ve been doing the past two days? Fucking someone who isn’t me? Fucking anyone?”
My voice cracks and my eyes sting. I lean away as Mason stands from the table.
“Come here.” He reaches for my arm. His voice is hard, angry.
Like he has a right.
I step back. “No! You tell me right now where you’ve been! Where have you been, Mason? With her? Where!”
Tears spill down my cheeks in heavy drops. My lip trembles.
It’s strange how quickly your mind can conjure up the worst possible scenario. Self-harm at its finest. Mason and this woman, images of them together, intimate, laughing. It’s all I can imagine when I look at him right now.
In a movement too fast for me to avoid, he grabs my arm above my elbow with one hand while his other seals to my waist. “You’re making a scene. There are children around,” he whispers harshly against my hair, moving me across the pavement.
I hear the soft click of the iron gate opening.
Turning my head, I look back at the sea of eyes on me as Mason pulls me away from the seating area. Away from her.
“Like I give a fuck. Who is she?” I growl, trying to get away, pushing against his chest and, at the same time, wanting to bury my face there and cry this out. “Where have you been? What the fuck is this?”
He presses my back against the heated brick covering the side of the building. I look around us, at the building behind Mason. I inhale the dank, musky air.
He’s pulled me into the alley. An alley, just like before, when he first kissed me.
Bending down, he flattens his hands on either side of my face and closes in on me. “What’s the problem, Brooke? Are you upset?”
I inhale a sharp breath. What the fuck?
“Am I upset? Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m not. Do you think I’m with that woman? Do you care that I am?”
“What?” I whisper, fresh tears rimming my eyelids as I look up at him. “Are you?”
Bile rises in my throat.
He stares at me, not answering, his eyes distant and detached, but underneath them, dark smudges shadow his skin.
Instinctively, I go to reach for him, but flatten my hand against my side when I remember what he’s put me through. “Where have you been?” I ask, my cheeks burning. “You just disappeared on me.”
“You said you needed a minute.” His voice is cold. Impassive.
That bloody fucking minute.
I break, sending more tears down my face, my hands drawing into fists and pounding against his solid chest. “A minute, Mason. A minute! Not two days. Fuck you! You were my best friend and you just stopped talking to me. Why did you do that?”
He flinches, his eyes as round as quarters as they search my face. Grabbing my wrists, which go limp in response to his touch, he presses closer.
“What else was I to you? Was that it?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No,” I whisper, my body melting against the brick. I feel like I could collapse right now.
“What else?” He wipes a tear from my cheek. His breath bathes my face. “Fuck, Brooke. Tell me. What else was I?”
“Mine.”
The word shocks us both. Him more than me. I swear he stops breathing. I accepted this possessiveness over Mason two nights ago. This right to him. I know what I want. But saying it, hearing it out loud when I’ve never felt this way before, that’s what startles me.