Bang (Blast Brothers #2) - Sabrina Stark Page 0,61

she'd left me one scorcher of a voicemail informing me that I was – in her words – a "total ingrate" for not accepting the job at her dad's jewelry store.

Considering that I was never offered the job – not officially, anyway – her message seemed more spiteful than anything.

I hadn't returned the call.

This wasn't as unusual as you'd think. My friendship with Livia had always been an on-again, off-again sort of thing. And judging from her demeanor now, we were on again with a vengeance.

With another smile, she called out, "Small world, huh?"

I knew Livia. It wasn't that small.

Still, I was curious.

When I made a move toward the river, a hand on my elbow made me turn to look.

Mason frowned. "What are you doing?"

Wasn't it obvious? "I'm gonna get closer."

"Why?"

"Oh, I dunno," I said. "Maybe to cut down on the yelling?"

"Forget it. That chick's crazy."

"Oh, please. I've known her since kindergarten."

"So?"

"So yeah, she's a little enthusiastic, I guess. But she's not crazy-crazy." Or at least, I sure hoped not.

Mason replied, "Says you."

"Well, you're not gonna stop me," I said.

He looked at me for a long silent moment before saying with a marked lack of enthusiasm, "Hang on. I'll get the lights."

"Sorry, what?"

"The landscape lights," he said. "I don't want you tripping on the way."

I saw what he meant. Although the mansion across the river was fully lit, our patio, as well as the rest of Mason's yard, was still cast in shadows.

This posed an interesting question. Just how did Livia know who we were?

But of course, the answer should've been obvious. She knew, because her arrival in Bayside was no accident. And her arrival here, directly across from Mason's place, was so devious, I hardly knew what to think.

I bit my lip. Maybe she was crazy-crazy.

As for Mason, he looked so disgruntled, I couldn’t resist teasing, "You know, instead of turning on the lights, you could always escort me to the river's edge."

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"I'm just saying, I'm sure you're more familiar with the terrain."

My statement was deliberately ridiculous. The so-called terrain was maybe a hundred feet of manicured perfection.

He said, "You think I won't."

I almost laughed in his face. "I know you won't."

"Oh yeah? Why not?"

"Because," I said, "I saw how much you enjoyed her company the first time around."

"Yeah, well maybe it's not her I'm worried about." And with that, he took my hand in his. With a tender squeeze, he said, "I'm ready when you are."

I glanced down at our hands, now joined. As my fingers closed reflexively around his, I tried not to notice how right it felt to be standing here holding hands by the light of the moon.

In spite of the cold, his hand was warm and steady as it held my own. And there was something about that squeeze – as light as it was – that made me want to turn not toward the river, but back toward the house, where we could do a lot more than hold hands.

Now that was crazy-crazy.

I mean, hadn't I just told him that we were done with the physical stuff?

Yes. I had. And I was determined to stick with that plan, even if it killed me – which it just might.

So I gave a quick nod and let Mason guide me toward the river's edge, where Livia was waiting.

By the time we arrived, she wasn't smiling anymore.

As I watched, her gaze zoomed in on Mason, and then on me. With a little frown, she called out, "So, are you guys a thing, now?"

Mason replied, "Hell yeah."

I whirled to look. "What?" And then it hit me. What a total snork-weasel. He was only saying that so Livia would set her sights elsewhere. Under my breath, I hissed, "I am so gonna get you for this."

Without bothering to lower his voice, he replied, "You promise?"

Oh, I'd give him a promise, alright.

From the other side of the river, Livia called out, "That's a little unprofessional, don't you think?"

I turned and called back, "Excuse me?"

"I mean, he is your boss, right?"

On this, she had a point. Still, her comment grated. Livia had practically begged for this job, and not because she'd been dying to look after Willow. If Mason was her boss, a little "unprofessionalism" wouldn’t have bothered her in the least.

Thank goodness Mason hadn't hired her.

For Willow's sake.

Not mine.

Much.

Still, I had to face facts. I had been unprofessional, especially in the pantry. In fact, if I looked up "unprofessional" in the dictionary, I just might find