The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,31
table before taking stock of the scattered groceries by the door.
Laila picked up a can of diced tomatoes, finding Mason’s spare key underneath it.
Oh. He was gone. And she had to water his plants… Laila closed her eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
At least now she knew what he was knocking about—not an apology or an explanation for the redhead. That was obviously too much to ask for. She was a one-night stand, who, unfortunately for them both, lived next door. Other women didn’t have to be explained to one-night stands.
There was a piece of paper on the floor next to where the key had been. She picked it up, heart pounding.
For a split second, she thought it might be from Mason because it didn’t match any of the labels from her shopping. But the scrap of paper was blank. Shaking her head for getting herself all worked up for nothing, Laila tossed it in the garbage.
Chapter Thirteen
Two weeks later
“Get up, Lazy Jones,” Rosamie said in her bright, overly cheerful voice, bouncing up and down on the mattress right next to her head.
“Remind me why I let you come over today?” Laila muttered, half her mouth flattened against the pillow.
“Because you promised you were going to come out with me,” Rosamie said, continuing to bounce.
Laila shot her friend a bleary-eyed scowl. “You said you were bringing a bottle of wine over. I thought that meant we were staying in.”
“I did bring a bottle.” Rosamie grinned. “But it’s tequila, and it’s strictly for our prep round.”
“Prep round?”
“That’s right. You and I are going to forget about all douchebags—starting now. First, we’re going to that bar down the block, then we’re taking the bus to Club Casim to get our groove on.”
Groaning, Laila dragged the pillow over her head, but Rosamie pulled it off. “You have got to stop moping over the mercenary.”
“I’m not moping,” Laila lied. This desolation was several degrees removed from such a commonplace term.
Laila felt…hollow. But she didn’t blame Mason. No, the fault was hers.
Laila had set herself up for this pain, mooning over a man who was totally out of her league. She had been the one to extend that dinner invitation, and when he’d come to her later, she hadn’t said no. Mason would have stopped if she had told him to leave.
And Mason hadn’t made her any promises of fidelity. Well—there hadn’t been time for conversation. Everything had happened so fast. Too fast.
How would you have known he would jump into bed with someone else the very next day? Unless it had been intentional…Perhaps Mason had sought out another woman to show her their night wasn’t special.
Mason had responded to her unspoken invitation without thinking about the complications. He must have realized sleeping with his mousy neighbor, a woman who had clearly been pining for him since he met, was a huge mistake. So, he wanted to make sure she didn’t read more their sexual encounter—cue the redhead.
He could have just said as much. In fact, hadn’t he told her they needed to talk? And despite that parting—and very misleading—kiss, he must have decided it was easier to show her how little their night had meant to him.
Still, parading another woman in front of her had been unnecessary. All right, maybe she did blame him for that—a lot. But it wasn’t a problem. She could take the hint. Or, in this case, the hammer to the head.
Blinking back tears, Laila tuned back in to find Rosamie riffling through her closet.
“Trust me on this,” her friend said, taking out a little black dress and discarding it with pursed lips. “Hooking up with another man—any man—is the answer. You know what they say. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else…or on top. Or in front while on your hands and knees. Or—”
Limbs too heavy for anything more athletic than shuffling to the fridge, Laila forced herself to sit up. She held up her hand. “I get the picture. But I’m not sure I’m up for a club.”
“Please,” Rosamie pouted. “I have big news, and I want to celebrate.”
Laila forced a smile. It felt like a grimace, but she needed to try for her friend’s sake. “What’s your news?”
Rosamie drew out a deep yellow sundress from the closet—one fit for high summer. “Put this on, and I’ll tell you.”
Laila made a face. “It’s not warm enough for that dress. The black one is better for this weather.”