Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (2 page)

Her thoughts slowed. Why did she want to be alone? What was she not remembering?
Blink.

The phone
call.
Blink.

Closing her eyes in fresh pain, she said, “Michael called, Jess. He needs somewhere to stay. He’s coming here.” Sitting back down on the window seat slowly, Mica put her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair and leaning over slightly. She was beginning to feel sick. The phone call.

“Oh, hell-to-the-no he is not, “Jess retorted. “He is not staying with you. Don’t you remember the last time you saw him, he stole a helluva lotta money from you? He left you high and dry in Abilene, and I had to wire you money to get home. That is sooooo not happening again on my watch, dammit. He’s a fucktard and you know it; no way is he staying here.”

“Jess,” she started, and had to stop to catch a breath, “Emily died.” Another breath, “Em died, and he needs somewhere to get his head on straight.” Mica sighed softly, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes. Emily had been a
good friend. Actually, she was more than a friend back in Texas; when they were growing up, she’d been like a second sister to Mica and Michael for years, and then much more than that for Michael.

Em had also been a confidante, best friend, and alter ego to Mica. “Em died, Jess. I missed her funeral; I wasn’t there. I didn’t even find out in time to send flowers. I should have been there for her family, and for Michael.”

Lifting her head from her hands, she saw Mason looking at her compassionately, but also appraisingly, as if he could see into her past and uncover things in the shadows there. She had the impression that once he was in your life, Davis Mason did not go away willingly, and that seemed to be a worrisome thought.

Jess scooted closer to the window seat, pulling Mica into a comforting hug as her shoulders started shaking with unreleased sorrow and pain. “Oh, hun, I’m so sorry. She was a fun one when she was here, yeah? I know you guys were
good friends. What happened; do ya know? Why the hell didn’t
he
call sooner?” That was asked in a snide tone, but Mica ignored the question.

“Michael didn’t say, and I didn’t think to ask. He sounded so broken on the phone, Jess. So, he is coming here. What’s that saying? ‘Home is the place where they have to take you in’? Well, that’s here; my home is now his home, I guess. He’ll be flying up in a couple of days, so I’ll need to take off and pick him up at O’Hare Monday afternoon.”

“Who’s Michael,” asked Mason, “and who’s Emily?” He locked eyes with Jess and nodded slowly as she mouthed
Monday
at him. That single statement helped him set the window for how long Mica had probably been sitting here like this.

She pulled away from Jess, turning reddened eyes toward
s him, realizing he was still in her home. He was in her home, her private space, and she was still in her pajamas. “He’s my brother, Mr. Mason. Emily was his fiancé, and she was my best friend growing up. She visited us, oh, probably about a year ago, but I don’t think you were around that weekend. Michael’s never really been outside of Texas, so this will all be new to him. I think new will be good.” He had worked hard to gain Emily’s trust, and after nearly thirteen years, she had finally accepted his proposal and ring.
That’s all gone now
, was the thought that trickled slowly through her mind.
God, I had hoped for his sake this was going to work.

“Michael is not just her brother, Mason; he’s her freakin’ twin,” Jess chortled a little, “but you’d never know it seeing them together. Oil and water, night and day—that’s the Scott Twins in a nutshell. He’s as blonde as they come, and pretty as can be…but he’s a
bad dude. There’s a twist in him that comes out at the expense of others. Sorry, Mica, but seriously—truth, always.” She cut her eyes over at Mica in a half-apology.

“It seems like I learn something new about you every time we talk, Mica. I have a new question for you, though. When you melt cheese between two pieces of bread, do you call it a
toasty, or a grilled cheese?” Mason smiled gently at her without moving from his place on the window seat.

“Um…grilled cheese. Why?” P
uzzled, she was caught off-guard. Thinking it was a pretty unusual question, she looked at him as he shifted and unfolded his body from the window seat, climbing to his feet smoothly.

He was sitting behind me a few minutes ago, with his arms wrapped around me,
she realized with a start,
and it felt warm and safe. It wasn’t scary; it had been comforting.
She sat up straight, shaking her head slightly at her wandering mind.
That is so not happening,
she told herself,
nothing is going to happen. Get a freakin’ grip, Mica. Get a grip, getagrip. Jess wants to talk about bad dudes? Well, he’s a biker, for God’s sake…in a motorcycle club. He’s the club president.

He started walking across the room and into the kitchen area, and it took her a second to realize he was responding to her last question, “So I know what to call it when I hand you a ‘grilled cheese’ on a plate. Water or pop to drink, Mica?” He continued on into the kitchen, opening the cabinets with a pull of his hand to find what he needed. Quickly locating and pulling out a plate and pan, he moved towards the refrigerator.

“Um…water is good, but you don’t have to do that. Please. I have a lot to do, so if you can please leave now…I’m okay, really. You can go. Both of you.” Flustered, she stood and walked quickly after him in her bare feet, stopping in the kitchen archway as he turned to look at her.

One eyebrow raised, he raked her with his eyes, taking notice of every detail as he slowly looked from her head to her toes and back up again. She felt naked under his gaze, knowing the flimsy nature of her attire left nothing to the imagination. Heat rose in her face, and a heavy feeling pooled low in her belly as her nipples peaked and tightened. “Maybe you want to take a quick shower and change clothes?”
he asked quietly, so Jess couldn’t hear.

Grasping his meaning, she wrapped her arms around herself, covering her breasts and nodding. “Okay,” over her shoulder she called, “hey, Jess, I’m going to grab a shower. Where did you say Brandy is?” She was breathing quickly, closing her eyes to shut out Mason’s unashamed appraisal of her body, and to focus on the response from her friend. She didn’t allow herself to think about her reaction to Mason.

“She’s working, Mica, she  has a big cookie order. We’ll still see you at Jackson’s tonight, right? If you are okay, I’m gonna head out then. I mean, if you are
really
okay?” The mention of her favorite bar made Mica relax a little, and she glanced back at Jess, who looked at her questioningly, blue eyes boring deep and hard, seeing the pain still swimming in Mica’s eyes. “I can stay, hun, if you want,” she offered quietly.

“Yes. No. I mean—yes, I’m
fine, Jess. You go ahead; I’m sorry to have been a bother.” Mica turned quickly and fled down the hall to her master bedroom and the en suite bath. “See ya, and thanks for coming over to check on me,” she trilled back up the hallway at Jess.

She closed the bathroom door and leaned her back against it, waiting until she heard her front door open and close behind Jess. Blowing out a long, slow breath, she softly bounced the back of her head against the door several times. “Emily is gone. Everything is all wrong; it should have been me.” Sliding…collapsing slowly down the door, she gathered her knees to her chest once again and huddled into herself as the first tears slipped down her cheeks. “It should have been me.”

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been sitting like that, when brisk knocks on the door at her back roused her from her grief. The slight tremors of the wood echoed the sobs and shudders coming from her frame as she cried on the bathroom floor. Mason’s voice came through the door, “Babe, I don’t hear the shower. I’m coming in.”

The door pushed against her firmly, slowly scooting her away from the opening and into the middle of the room. “No, please don’t,” was all she was able to get out of her mouth before strong arms scooped her up off the floor and against a hard chest. “Oh, babe, I’m sorry your friend died,” Mason said as he stood there holding her.

She tried to twist out of his arms. “Put me down. Please, I’m too heavy to hold like this.” Mica had no illusions about her body; she’d lived within it for her 30 years, after all. She knew the curves and dips of her thighs, ass and belly intimately. She was only self-conscious in situations like this, when someone else tried to ignore what she saw as the truth.

His chest rumbled against her,
and she realized he was laughing quietly. “No, you are not too heavy. Now be still and stop squirming.” He walked back into her bedroom and sat her on the edge of the bed. “Sit and wait here just for a sec, please.” Mason walked back into the bathroom, and she heard the faucets turning, idly hoping the water would be warm enough as she sat compliantly waiting.

Mason strolled back into the room and said under his breath, “Not how I expected the first time to go,” as he came to a stop in front of her. “Okay, arms up,” he ordered as he bent and grasped the bottom edge of her camisole. She hesitated for a moment, and then he repeated in a low, forceful tone, “I said arms up, Mica.” The command in his voice was unmistakable, and she complied without hesitation. He drew it up and smoothly pulled it off over her head. “Now stand.” And she did, slowly, as he slipped his fingers under the waistband of her shorts. He dragged the shorts and her panties down her legs, bending low and waiting patiently for her to step out of them.

She was naked and realized he had averted his eyes, turning his head to look at the wall. “Thank you, Mr. Mason. I believe I can take it from here.” He stood, still not looking at her, and walked stiffly out of the room, turning back down the hallway towards the kitchen.

Jeez-oh-PETE, I cannot believe that man just undressed me in my own bedroom
…and I let him
, she thought to herself as she moved quickly into the bathroom. She stepped into the tile shower, where the steam had already condensed on the glass door, affording her a sense of privacy. Tipping her head back under the stream of water, she thought about how she hardly knew Mr. Mason. This was soooo not like her, and then her breath caught in the back of her throat. She whispered, “Oh, my God, he saw me naked,” followed quickly on its heels with, “No, he didn’t; he looked away.” As she poured shampoo into her palms, she wracked her memory over his behavior, smiling at how gallant and kind he seemed.

She stilled, remembering which way his head had been turned, closing her eyes as she realized the dresser mirror was on that wall.
Oh, my God, he saw me naked
, ran through her mind again as she wondered how she’d get through the embarrassment. At least she had clean clothes appropriate for her mood she could put on after the shower.

2 -
   
Grilled cheese

Mason groaned and adjusted himself for the third time since returning to the kitchen. He had been just in time to flip the grilled cheese sandwich before it burned. The hard length of his cock was so swollen it was painful, and being constrained in the tight jeans elevated it to just short of agony. If he
could just get her body out of his mind, he’d be okay, but the expanse of pale skin and ample curves was tormenting him.

He had even turned his head aside, only to find a strategically placed mirror, where he could watch himself undress her. Her hand had rested on his shoulder as she stepped delicately out of her shorts and panties, and he watched the smooth movement of the muscles in her back and ass. Fuck!
He had held her in his arms briefly, and her full, soft body fit into him as if she were made for him. He had wanted to hold her softly, rock and cuddle her there on the window seat, but her violent reaction to something he did or said had put an end to that quickly.

I wish she was mine and I had a right to have taken her there on the bed. Or in the shower. Or in the kitchen. Dammit. It felt right with my arms wrapped around her. I want to take care of her. I want her.
He adjusted himself again, breathing deeply in an effort to calm down. Talking under his voice to himself, “You cannot do this to her right now. Did you see her face, you fucking asshat? She’s hurting. That’s not how you want her to remember you, is it? She’s still calling you Mr. Mason, for fuck’s sake. Get a fucking clue and be a friend, fucking asshole.”

“Have you always talked to yourself, Mr. Mason?”
came in an amused tone from behind him.

Jerking around, he nearly knocked the pan off the stove and realized he needed to get the sandwich onto the plate before it burned with him standing there.
Fuck me. How the hell long was I standing here?
he thought. He turned his body around, just enough to see Mica standing in the archway idly chewing on the edge of her thumbnail. He had to keep his hips turned to hide his erection, and then had to hide a grin when he saw the pointedly unattractive comfort-wear she had put on after her shower. “Water bottle’s on the countertop,” he said roughly. He stood there for a moment, looking at her and taking in how her wet, dark hair trailed over her shoulders to cover the peaks of her breasts. His gaze then focused on her face, with its wide mouth, petite, upturned nose, and those slay-me green eyes. “Your sandwich is ready, so come sit down and eat, babe. It’s gonna get cold. When did you say your brother called? What day?”