Mace (Cocky Cage Fighter #4) (5 page)

I watched my sister spiral out of control until it took her life, so I’m not gonna sit back and watch that happen to anyone else. Yeah, Vito Scarfone may have had a hand in taking Mandy’s life, but she let herself get to the point of no return. It was only a matter of time before she would’ve ended it herself with a drug overdose because of her depression and self-loathing. I couldn’t save Mandy from her demons, but maybe I can help save Hailey.

Unable to listen to another second of her making herself sick, I push the women’s bathroom door open and call out, “Hailey, are you okay?”

“I-I’m fine,” she says from one of two stalls. Thankfully, the rest of the small bathroom is empty. “W-what are you doin’ in here?”

“You don’t sound fine,” I reply. “I heard you throwing up.”

There are several moments of silence before she says, “I thank it’s just a stomach bug. I already feel better.”

I don’t know why she bothers lying to me. Doesn’t she know that I know? Do I look that stupid? But fine, if that’s the game she wants to play, we’ll play. For now.

“Shit, sweetheart, that really sucks,” I say, while swiping a palm over my face in frustration. “You need anything? Wet rag? Crackers? Water?”

“No, I’m okay.”

“Well then, I guess I’ll go start making arrangements, but you just take your time,” I tell her after the perfect evil idea comes to me.

“Wh-what?” she asks, but the door is already closing behind me.

Waving goodbye to our waitress, I step outside the front of the restaurant, squinting at the bright sun, to look down the street. I’m pretty sure I remember seeing a bed & breakfast sign right when we came off the exit into the small town. Sure enough, about two blocks down is the place. Walking in that direction, I pull out my phone to call Linc.

“Mace? What’s up? Where are you guys?” he asks when he answers.

“Just stopped to eat in Wilson, so a little more than three hours away. But here’s the thing, your sister’s really sick.”

“Sick?” he exclaims. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s upchucking everywhere. It’s a goddamn mess.”

“Ah fuck. Is she car sick or what? Did she eat somethin’ bad?” Yeah, she sure as shit ate something she thought was bad -
food
. But the way he sounds so surprised…maybe he doesn’t know his sister’s bulimic. And more than likely, anorexic.

“She said she’s pretty sure it’s a stomach virus, so I think we better camp out here tonight in case it’s one of those twenty-four hour bugs. There’s no fucking way I’m gonna rush out of here and have her throw up all in my car.”

“Damn. You’re right, that would suck.”

“I'd never get that awful stench out of Sally,” I say, playing it up. My goal has been accomplished. I’ve put her family on notice of her throwing up so that if it happens again this week they’ll maybe catch on without me having to rat her out. I hope that it will also be enough to keep her from making herself sick. Getting her to stop long term? Fuck, I have no idea.

“Do you think she needs to go to the doctor? Or the emergency room?” Linc asks in concern. Yeah, she needs a doctor all right. One of those head doctors with a couch to lay her down and figure out what short circuit in her beautiful mind is causing her to do this awful shit to herself.

“If she keeps getting sick, I’ll take her to the hospital so she won’t get dehydrated,” I assure him, even though it’s unnecessary. “Hopefully with some rest she’ll feel better. I’ll get her some Gatorade tonight, and I bet we’ll be good to go the rest of the way in the morning.”

“Damn, I hope so. Tell her to call me or Mom when she can to let us know how she’s feelin’.”

“Will do,” I tell him as I step up on the porch of the B&B.

“Thanks for takin’ care of her, Mace. I owe you one, especially after the shit I said earlier.”

“Ah, it’s no problem,” I tell him, only feeling a little guilty about my plan and how much I still want her despite his warning. I end the call to make reservations, putting a big dent in what little money I have in my bank account.

Hailey

I freshen up with the folding travel brush and toothpaste I keep in my purse and redo my ponytail before steppin’ out of the diner’s bathroom. Pressin’ the back of my hand to my cheeks, I still feel the warmth of embarrassment from when Mason walked into the women’s bathroom on me. Who does that sort of thing?

Since he’s no longer sittin’ at our booth and there’s money on the table, I walk outside to look for him. His ridiculous purple car that he somehow makes hot as hell is still in the lot, but there’s no sign of him in the small, country stretch of town.

I climb into the passenger seat and pull my phone out of my purse while I wait. The first thing I notice is that I have several missed calls and texts. One from my mom and Linc, both askin’ if I’m “feelin’ better” and to call them. Linc also texted me while we were eatin’ to say he was sorry if Mason flirts inappropriately with me and that I shouldn’t encourage him because quote, “
Mace is
a player with a different girl or two every single night.
”

What the hell? Mace called and told my family? What exactly did he tell them? And of course he’s a player! I mean, I predicted as much as soon as I saw him. All guys as hot as him are bound to hop around from one girl’s bed to another.

“You know, you look way too sexy to have just had your head in a toilet,” Mason says when he suddenly speaks from beside the car. Glancin’ up, yep, he’s still just as badass, hot as fuck as I remembered. I quickly look away from him after his comment confirms that my brother called it all right.

“I’m ready to go if you are,” I say, keepin’ my eyes lowered to my phone, assuring my family that I’m perfectly fine.

“Great, let’s go,” Mason replies, gettin’ in and startin’ the car. We pull out of the restaurant lot and he drives for maybe ten seconds before he puts on his right turn signal and comes to a stop in front of a house.

“What are ya doin’?” I turn to him and ask when he shuts off the car.

“Turning in for the night,” he says with a smug smile.

“Ah, no we’re not. It’s only like two o’clock and we’re just a few hours away from the beach.”

Ignorin’ me, he gets out, grabs my bags and his from the trunk, and walks up the porch steps of the white, two-story colonial with green shutters. He then goes right through the front door without knockin’!

I sit there like a surprised statue, my jaw hangin’ open, waitin’ for him to come back. He doesn’t come back. What is his deal? Lookin’ around to see if I'm on candid camera or somethin’ equally ridiculous, I find the black and white sign that reads,
Miss Debbie's Bed & Breakfast.
What the hell?              

With a sigh, I reluctantly get out of the car and follow up the same steps to ask Mason what he’s up to. I’m not the type to just waltz into someone’s home, so I knock before I slowly turn the knob and open it just a sliver. Inside the foyer, a friendly lookin’ woman with short brown hair and a white apron heads in my direction.

“Hi there! You must be Hailey. Are you feelin’ better? Your fiancé said you were a little under the weather.”

Fiancée the fuck?

“Ah…” I don’t even know what to say to that. Fiancée? Seriously? Is he nuts? “I’m okay. Do you know where can I find Mason?”

“Oh, sure. You probably want to lie down and rest. He took your bags upstairs to your room, first door on the right.” She nods to the staircase off to the side of the entrance and, eager to escape the weirdness, I take them to the room she directed me to. Since the door is partially open, I walk on in.

Holy honeymoon suite!

The room is…absolutely breathtakin’. A huge four-poster bed with a sheer canopy and thick ivory comforter sits in the center of the room with a million pillows and a chaise lounge restin’ along the foot of it. Over to the right is a freakin’ granite tiled whirlpool tub big enough for four people. As if that wasn’t romantic enough, actual red rose petals are strewn across the floor, tub and bed. It’s like every woman’s fairytale come true.

While I stand awestruck, Mason comes strollin’ casually out of what I assume is the bathroom. In his wife-beater and jeans, his black tats standing out in stark contrast to all the white in the elegant room, the tranquil scene goes from fairytale love story to naughty fantasy.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask him, but the words don’t come out nearly as indignant as I intended.

“Nice, right?” That wicked smile of his returns when he reaches up with both hands and grabs the canopy beam runnin’ along the length of the bed as he glances around the room. The move stretches out his tall frame, raising his wife-beater so that I see a flash of his tan, rock hard abs. The once dry panties that I had to change into at my parents’ house are now in no better shape than the first pair. I have an absolutely absurd urge to run my hands and mouth down his entire muscular body. “Since you’re
sick
and all, our journey has been delayed until we make damn sure you’re fully recovered. I’ve already cleared it with your family, and they agree we should stay put here tonight.”

“Huh,” I mutter. There were arguments or other questions I had, but now I can’t seem to remember them. I stand frozen, watchin’ as Mason walks past me to shut and,
gulp
, lock the bedroom door, before pullin’ his shirt over his head. Oh my! That whole swoonin’ thing you’ve heard about? Yeah, I totally get it when my body starts swayin’ at the incredible sight before me – broad, sculpted chest and shoulders, thick, bowling ball sized biceps, and the abs…oh the abs. He’s a walkin’ eyegasm if I’ve ever seen one. 

Headin’ over to the whirlpool, he reaches in and turns the faucet on full blast. He’s not really gonna…I watch in stunned disbelief when he unzips his pants and shoves them and any boxers he’s wearin’ down in one swift move. Despite how hard I try, I don’t see his cock since he’s facin’ forward. That’s fine, because his ass is…magnificent. Spankable. Lickable. Then it disappears into the tub and I’m meetin’ his golden green eyes. Eyes that I expect to be cocky knowin’ I’ve been oglin’ every inch of him, or playful because he knows I find him attractive. Instead, I’m met with a warm gaze that’s way too soft. Too serious. Too full of misplaced pity because he knows the truth and is gonna make a big deal out of nothin’.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I say above the sound of the gushin’ water.

“Didn’t ask you to,” he answers, refusin’ to drop his steadfast stare.

“Then stop lookin’ at me.”

“Stop being so damn gorgeous and I will,” he replies without even a hint of a smirk on his handsome face.

“I wish you wouldn’t say things like that,” I tell him, crossin’ my arms over my chest and lookin’ away, just a little breathless after his compliment.

“Things like what? The truth?”

“Please just stop.”

“Fine,” he snaps loudly so I can hear him over the flowin’ water. “But do you have any idea how fucked up it is that not only are you unable to accept a compliment, but that you actually get pissed off by them?”

“Maybe it’s just your compliments I have a problem with,” I reply curtly. I’m not sure why I’m tryin’ to argue with him. He’s just so freakin’ hot and…and…annoyin’.  

“Why do you have a problem with my compliments?” he asks with a scrunched forehead.

“Because they don’t hold any weight when you’re constantly spewin’ them out to every girl you meet.”

“I don’t say anything unless it’s true,” he counters.

“So at least you’re an honest player.”

“Player?” he exclaims indignantly. Reachin’ forward, he turns off the water now that the tub is full, leavin’ the room silent again except for the whirl of the bubbles. “What the fuck?”

“You’re not with a different girl every night?” I ask.

“No. I don’t do fuck and run one-night stands.”

“Yeah right,” I say with an eye roll before sittin’ down on the chaise lounge.

“I don’t,” he replies. “Now are you gonna get in here or just keep creating diversions?”

“I’m not gettin’ in there. I-I don’t have a swimsuit,” I lie. There’s no way I’m gonna let someone as perfect as him see all of my imperfections up close and personal.

He raises a sexy dark eyebrow. 

“I’m not gettin’ in naked!”

“Did I say anything about naked? Wear your underwear. It’s the same as a swimsuit.”

No way. Swimsuits are evil, unflatterin’ things and my underwear is even more so.

“Don’t think so.”

“Ah come on. It feels so damn good,” he says as he slouches down lower into the bubbles so that they’re up to his neck.

“No thanks,” I reply, envious of him because it does look so nice. Maybe I can get in later, after he leaves. “So why are you in my room anyway?” I ask him.

“This is my room.”

“Oh,” I mutter in surprise. “Then where’s my room?”

“This is your room,” he says with his eyes closed as he soaks. 

“You’re kiddin’ right?”

“Nope. You’re sick. I can’t leave you unattended all night. You might need me.”

“You’re so full of shit.”

"And in small towns,” he continues. “They're not real big on shacking up without saying some vows or intending to soon."

"Whatever," I mutter just before my phone starts ringin’.

“Oh, and you should call your family to check in. They’re
worried
about you,” Mason says as I dig around my purse and finally pull out the device to answer. The number isn’t one I recognize.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Hales,” the deep, familiar voice catches me off guard. He's never called me before, but I know who it is right away. Only one person calls me
Hales
.             

“Hey, Senn.” There’s a noticeable splash from the whirlpool that I ignore when I stand up from the chaise and walk farther away, sittin’ down at the desk in the far corner of the room.

“Are you okay? Linc said you’re sick.”

“I’m fine. Just a stomach bug, but now
Mason
refuses to drive us the rest of the way.”

“Yeah, his car is his baby, so he’s not gonna chance you getting sick in it. Can’t say I really blame him.”

“Uh-huh,” I agree, even though it’s bullshit.

“So how long are you in town? Just for the wedding?” Senn asks.

“Yeah, I have to fly back out next Saturday night.” Sunday mornin’ I have a meetin’ with a potential client. It’s for a contract with a makeup company that I desperately need. Jobs have been few and far between lately because I’m not gettin’ any younger. Oh shit. I hope the audition isn’t for wrinkle cream.

“That’s too bad,” Senn remarks. “I wish you would stick around longer.”

“Me too, but I can’t,” I say honestly. “You know, the planes fly both ways to and from New York, and the roads work the same, right?”

After a few seconds of silence, he asks, “Is that an invitation?” makin’ me smile.

“Maybe. Not that you’ll actually come up to see me.” Senn hadn’t offered to visit even once over the past year after our…fling last summer. When I first went back to New York, I really thought he would make the effort, but weeks turned into months, and months have now been an entire year. There’s no reason to get my hopes up again, not that I won’t. I like Senn. He’s the opposite of the brainiac, Ivy League guys I usually date, and, God, he’s so big and buff with his sexy long hair.

All of us had been hangin’ out at Linc’s one night last June before his big fight with Jude Malone. My brother and Nate had gone to the gym to workout, leavin’ Senn and I behind. Since it was dark, I wasn’t as self-conscious about the whole swimsuit issue, so I agreed to go for a swim with him. Our splashin’ each other and flirtin’ turned into kissin’, which resulted in our wet bodies bein’ plastered together, grindin’ frantically against each other until his cock slid inside my pussy. Suddenly, we were fuckin’ like horny teenagers against the wall in the deep end of the pool. It was really hot, probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. But apparently it wasn’t good enough for him to cross the five hundred miles to see me over an entire year. I was home in September durin’ Linc’s sex tape fiasco, then again at Christmas, but I didn’t see Senn on either of those short visits.

“Actually, I’ll be coming up north in a month,” Senn says, surprising me. “I’ve got a fight July twenty-fifth at the
Taj Mahal
in Atlantic City.”

“Oh really?” I ask. That’s only a two-hour commute compared to the usual nine-hour one to North Carolina.

“Yeah. So you should come watch the fight and then maybe let me stay with you a few days after I win.”

“Maybe. Let me check the dates and see if I have anything scheduled. If not, then yeah, I’ll come see your fight.”

“Good. I hope you do,” he says, soundin’ sincere. “Well, feel better Hales so you can hurry up and get here. Now you’ve got my number so you can text me or whatever.”

“Okay, I will,” I agree. “See you tomorrow.”

“See ya,” he says before endin’ the call.

“So you and Senn, huh?” I startle when Mason asks the question from across the room. I’d been so lost in memory lane that I had forgotten he was there and apparently listenin’ from the jacuzzi.