The Mercenary Next Door (Rogues and Rescuers #2) - Lucy Leroux Page 0,6
Rosamie asked.
Guilt weighing down her steps, Laila shook her head. “I can’t afford the airfare if I’m going to pay for this year’s classes.” She was more than halfway through her associate degree, but she was struggling to make ends meet. The books she’d had to buy for this quarter had wiped out her reserves.
“That sucks. But you’re always welcome at my place!” Rosamie was local. Laila had spent many a holiday with her big and boisterous Filipino family.
“I would love to go. If I don’t have to work, of course.” Since she couldn’t afford to go home for the holidays, she was often scheduled to cover the holiday hours. But she appreciated the invitation, nonetheless.
“If it’s not your mom, what’s got you down?”
Laila stopped halfway down the path to Greek Row. “I, um, I had a run-in with my neighbor.”
“What did that old fart say to you this time?”
“It wasn’t Mr. Tran. I meant Mason.”
Rosamie’s eyes bugged out. “You mean Mr. Marvelous? He’s back in town?”
Laila nodded. “I didn’t even realize he was home. I was watering his plants, and he came out of his bedroom in his underwear.”
Rosamie whistled. “Was it awesome?”
Laila tipped her head back to take in the night sky. She could compare Mason’s beauty to the stars, but they couldn’t see them. Too much light pollution.
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word. “In the most literal sense of the word. He was magnificent…”
She trailed off, lost in the memory of all those glorious muscles.
“Did you stare at him too long, and it got weird?” Rosamie asked sympathetically. They’d been friends long enough to know that was a real possibility.
“No—I mean, yes. But also, no. He didn’t seem embarrassed. It was later that I made a mess of things. I came back when I thought he was gone to return his key and to leave him a little something I made.”
“Again?” Rosamie’s nose wrinkled. She didn’t approve of Laila’s penchant to bake things for Mason. Her friend thought it was too desperate—because it was. ‘The way to a man’s heart isn’t really through his stomach,’ she would say.
“I was making something for myself anyway,” Laila lied. “But I shouldn’t have let myself into his place with him back in town. He was there, but asleep. When I woke him, he—he sprang up and pinned me.”
Rosamie stopped short in the middle of the walkway. “What?” she screeched.
The scarf was starting to feel too tight against her neck. Laila tugged, loosening it. “He moved so fast. It was crazy—one second I was on my feet trying to sneak out without waking him; then, the next, I was on the floor with him on top of me.”
“I don’t know whether to be pissed at him or jealous of you.” Rosamie threw up her hand. “Both. I can be both. Did he hurt you?”
“No, I was just…shocked,” Laila said, prevaricating.
She was a small woman, and the impact had stung. But the thick carpet had protected her head from the worst of it. True, her back was sore today. However, it was the memory of Mason’s hard body over hers that she couldn’t get out of her mind. She was going to remember how he’d felt—his hard length pressed against her for a long time.
“Anyway,” she said after a moment, “he apologized, and I got out of there, but it was so embarrassing.”
“You were embarrassed?” Rosamie smacked her lips. “What about him? Who does shit like that? Did he even apologize?”
“Repeatedly,” Laila assured her. “He was worried he’d hurt me. As for why, he said the places he’d been sleeping in weren’t always safe or secure. He is not a personal trainer or an actor like we thought—he’s a soldier for hire. He’d just gotten back from rescuing this kidnapped couple. It sounded crazy dangerous.”
Rosalie was incredulous. “Really? That guy? I could have sworn he was a secret porn star or something. It would explain why he was always taking off. I thought he was going off for marathon filming sessions. Instead, he’s Clearchus of Sparta.”
Laila frowned in confusion, and Rosamie shrugged. “Clearchus was a famous mercenary. I wrote a paper about him for my History of Ancient Greece class last year.”
Laila rubbed her hair with her gloved hand. “As bad as Mason felt—and he obviously did—I was the one who felt like shit. I would have never gone in there if I thought he was home. Although, now I’m wondering if he has some kind of PTSD.”