Chapter 7
M ASON CLUTCHED THE steering wheel of his SUV, clenching his jaw. He scrubbed a hand over his day-old stubble, frowning. He’d been surprised to hear from Taylor tonight but pleased she’d texted him—until he saw her second text.
His blood boiled at the thought of her asshole ex right outside her front door.
What if he’d been awake when Taylor got home?
Would he have forced himself into her apartment? Forced himself on her?
Guys didn’t just keep showing up like that when they were thinking rationally. Hell, he was used to dating women for a few weeks and then moving on. Never giving them another thought.
The fact that Taylor’s ex kept showing up more and more unnerved him.
Maybe he hoped to win her back, but the likelihood was that he kept coming around because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He was fixated on her. Obsessed. Maybe he hadn’t been until she’d broken up with him, but some guys always wanted what they couldn’t have.
Hell.
His phone buzzed with a new text as he drove down Atlantic Avenue, and he saw her address flash across his screen. He was supposed to be picking her up tomorrow afternoon for a date, not rushing over because her asshole of an ex wouldn’t leave her alone.
A certain sense of male pride filled his chest though at the fact that she’d texted him for help.
She trusted him to be there for her, relied on him for her safety.
Maybe they hadn’t exactly gotten off to a normal start, but hell if he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect her. He wanted to woo her, sure. Take her out, kiss her goodnight, take her to bed.
Eventually.
None of that would ever happen if this was hanging over her shoulders.
Grumbling under his breath, he pulled into the parking lot of Taylor’s apartment complex, his gaze sweeping the area.
One street light was out in the back corner, but he was pleased to see that it was mostly well lit.
The walkways and grounds were well-maintained, with lamp posts scattered throughout.
It was relatively safe for a single woman living alone.
Relatively.
Because the breezy, open apartment buildings had no way from keeping Taylor’s ex from showing up at her door.
A secure building with a doorman would’ve been ideal, but that wasn’t exactly common in this beach community. People were casual around here. Tourists came and went in the warmer months. They wouldn’t want to show identification in gated communities or buildings with security and doormen.
They just wanted to relax and enjoy their vacation.
He quickly shut off the engine and stepped out of his vehicle. He’d been in such a rush, he hadn’t even grabbed anything to spend the night here.
A tee shirt and shorts would have to suffice. He could always sleep in his boxers, but he got the impression Taylor wouldn’t appreciate that just yet.
Briefly, he wondered what she slept in as he moved across the lot. A sexy little nightie? Comfortable cotton pajamas? Nothing at all?
Not that he’d be finding out tonight.
Her safety was his primary concern, and if she wasn’t comfortable with him yet, he’d give her space.
For now.
Taylor was standing by the well-lit stairwell, and he was both relieved and unnerved. She shouldn’t be standing around alone this late at night, but she didn’t have her car. Couldn’t get into her own damn apartment.
Hell.
Her ex was controlling her life whether she realized it or not.
And Mason didn’t like it one bit.
Taylor flushed in surprise as she turned and saw him, a relieved smile flashing across her face. “You came.”
He ducked down, brushing his lips across her forehead and inhaling her scent of coconut and sunshine. “Of course I came. Did you really think I wouldn’t?”
“Yes. I mean no, I mean—” She trailed off, looking flustered. He took her slender hand in his, wanting her close. Needing to see for himself that she was all right.
“I don’t like that he’s showing up at your apartment late at night,” he said, his thumb briefly rubbing over the soft skin of her hand before he let go.
She gazed up at him, those wide brown eyes so damn innocent.
“I don’t like it either, but what am I supposed to do? I left him there passed out drunk yesterday, hadn’t heard from him all day, and then came home from work to find him here. I’ve told him it’s over, and he just keeps coming back.”
“You’re doing everything right,” Mason assured her.
“You’ll probably have to cut off all contact.
Don’t answer the door for him, don’t answer his calls.
Don’t send him any texts. The next step is going to the police though.
A restraining order won’t keep away someone bound and determined to be here, but it’s a start. It’ll be official that way.”
“The police?” she asked, her eyes widening slightly. “I don’t want to get him in some sort of trouble. And it’s not like he’s done something wrong. I mean nothing illegal anyway.”
“Refusing to leave someone alone is stalking them.”
“He’s not stalking me,” she protested.
Mason raised his eyebrows.
“It’s not like he’s following me around at night, hiding in the shadows or something. He was at my front door!”
“Showing up uninvited again and again is stalking,” he said in a low voice. “Refusing to leave you alone. Not taking no for an answer. Didn’t you say you’ve missed work because of this? He came over and you didn’t want to leave?”
“Yeah, but I was afraid to leave him there alone because he was drunk. It’s not like he forced me to stay or something.”
“Maybe right now he just wants to talk or try to win you back, but what if this escalates? What if he comes over and won’t leave? Or if he won’t let you leave?”
“Well,” she hedged, shifting nervously from foot to foot.
“Is he up there?” Mason asked, nodding his chin toward the stairs.
“He hasn’t come down, so I assume so.”
“What floor are you on?”
“Third floor. Apartment 307.”
“All right. I’ll drag him out of the way if I have to.
If you don’t want to involve the police at this point, we can call a cab or one of his friends to come get him.
He’ll be pissed as hell if he wakes up feet from your front door.
I’m not sure what other options we have.
I could have my friends come and take him somewhere. ”
“Your friends? I don’t want to get them in trouble. Besides, it’s embarrassing that my ex keeps coming around.”
“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s the one in the wrong here. Let’s go see where he is.”
Mason turned and started up the stairs, Taylor following behind. He didn’t like that her ex was manipulating her. She was so concerned for his welfare, she didn’t want to involve the police.
But hell.
Guys like him just didn’t get it.
He reached the landing and crossed to her apartment in a couple long strides. Crouching down by her ex, he frowned. His eyes narrowed at the crushed flowers, but he didn’t say anything, just gripped him beneath his arms and dragged him roughly down the hall.
The guy was big—not nearly as muscular as Mason, but he could easily overpower Taylor if he wanted.
Too easily.
Eric continued to lightly snore but didn’t stir. Mason unceremoniously dumped him by the top of the stairwell. Crossing back to Taylor’s door, he grabbed the empty beer can and flowers.
“Where’s the trash?”
“Downstairs.”
He nodded and quickly jogged down, flinging the offending items into the trash can. A few moments later and he was back upstairs, walking over to Taylor.
“I can call the police. You can file a report and get this thing rolling tonight.”
She shifted nervously. “I’d rather just call someone to get him.”
Mason nodded, not happy with her answer. What choice did he have though? If he called them against her wishes, was he any better than this guy? The decision needed to be hers. She needed to feel like she was the one in control around him. “Do you have the number of any of his friends?”
“Yeah. The guy that has my car actually.”
Mason pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of Eric lying there by the stairwell.
“Let me see your phone,” Mason said.
Taylor looked at him questionably but handed it over.
“What’s his friend’s name?” After Taylor responded, he sent a text from his own phone. “I just sent him a picture and told him to come get his friend.”
Taylor laughed, looking slightly more relaxed. “Won’t he wonder who you are?”
Mason shrugged, grabbing her hand. “Don’t know, don’t care. He can text me back. Let’s go inside. His buddy will probably be pissed as hell to have to come get him this late. But if he shows up at your door, I’ll be there. We might have a discussion about your car, too.”
Taylor nodded, and Mason pulled her close. “I’m glad you texted me earlier.”
She slid the key into her lock and pushed open the door. “Well I’m not. I mean I’m glad that you’re here, don’t get me wrong, but I’d rather not have to deal with any of this at all.”
“Understood,” Mason said. “I’d rather not have your ex-boyfriend hanging around either.”
She crossed the room and turned on a lamp on one of her end tables. Mason’s gaze swept the area—the balcony door was locked with a bar down across it. The windows were closed. Good. He turned back and saw that she’d fastened the deadbolt on the front door.
He relaxed slightly, moving further into her apartment.
The space was small but tidy. Small aspects of her personality showed through in the way she’d decorated the space. There were photographs of ocean sunrises on her wall, a basket of seashells on her coffee table. Books were stacked in a neat pile—both fiction and romance, he noted with a grin.
Hell if he wouldn’t love to show her a little romance and sweep her off her feet.
Not that now was the appropriate time.
“Did you take those yourself?” he asked, nodding at the mounted photos on the wall.
“I did,” she said, her eyes lighting up. “It’s a hobby of mine, but I’ve always loved photography and the ocean.”
“They’re amazing,” he said, walking closer to get a better look. “You must’ve been up really early to take these. I’ve seen plenty of sunrises in my days in the Navy—not usually by choice.”
She laughed, the melodious sound sending electricity coursing through him. “Yep. I try to avoid getting up that early normally. I can’t resist a good sunrise though.”
“Duly noted,” he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Wouldn’t he love to enjoy a sunrise with her. Preferably after getting to know her all night.
Taylor dropped her purse onto an armchair and crossed over to stand at his side. She yawned, blushing again as he chuckled.
“It’s late,” he said, briefly letting his fingers trail down her bare arm. “I’m sure you’re exhausted. Just grab me a blanket or something, and I’ll crash on the sofa.”
“Are you sure?” she asked. “I mean, I could stay out here and let you have the bed. You’re a lot taller than me.”
“Sweetheart, I’m a Navy SEAL. I’ve slept in tents pitched in the desert,” he said with a grin.
“The hard floor of a C-17 cargo plane on a nonstop flight across the Atlantic. Believe me when I say your sofa is a luxury compared to any of that. And hell, your company is infinitely better than that of my buddies. You’re much better looking than them, too. ”
She blushed furiously, and he smiled.
“I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable. This wasn’t exactly a planned date or something. You relax, do whatever you need to do, and I’ll be out here. Tomorrow I’ll go home and change and then we’ll go out on a proper date. I’ll come pick you up and everything.”
“If you’re sure,” she hedged.
“About the date?”
“About sleeping out here.”
Mason’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, and he pulled it from his pocket.
Who the fuck is this?
Mason frowned and thumbed a response.
A friend of Taylor’s. Tell her ex not to come around here anymore.
“What’s wrong?” Taylor asked, noticing the expression on his face.
“It’s that guy Jake. He wondered who was texting him—no surprise. I didn’t say anything earlier, just told him to get his friend.”
“Is Eric still out there?” Taylor asked, moving toward her front door.
“I’ll check,” Mason said, holding his hand up to stop her. She froze in place, and something in his chest warmed as he crossed the room. She trusted him. Listened to him. He was used to being in control, and she had enough faith in him to let him be.
He knew she was independent in many ways, living alone, keeping a waitressing job that gave her time for pursuing her hobbies. But the fact that she’d let him into her space and let him take control of the situation spoke volumes.
He loved to be in command—both in and out of the bedroom. The fact that she was willing to let him be so far spoke well for their future.
And hell, what was he doing thinking about their future?
He still hadn’t even taken her out yet. Kissed her goodnight.
Somehow he knew he’d do whatever it took to keep her happy and safe though.
Mason peered through the peephole, his hand on the doorknob. “Nope, he’s already gone. Either he left himself or his friend came.”
“Probably Jake already came. He lives close by.”
“Damn. I would’ve liked a word with him, too.”
“Another time,” she said. “Maybe tomorrow we can get my car back. I mean, if you don’t mind coming with me. I’m tired of calling and asking about it. Eric’s friend just keeps giving me the runaround.”
“Absolutely,” he assured her. “Are they open on Sundays?”
Her face fell. “Actually, I don’t think so.”
“No problem. I’ll go with you to get it—first thing Monday morning if we have to. We’ll handle it.”
She nodded, looking nervous, then gathered a blanket and pillow and placed them on the sofa. “Are you sure you don’t mind staying over? I mean, Eric’s already gone, so there’s no need....”
“There’s no where else I’d rather be,” he assured her. “I want to make sure you’re safe.”
His eyes heated for a moment as he walked over to stand by her side. This wasn’t exactly how he’d imagined his first night with her would go, but he liked knowing where she was. Safe. Home. With him.
Maybe he wouldn’t be taking her to bed just yet, but crashing outside her bedroom door was a hell of a lot better than pitching a tent with his buddies.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in for a hug. Inhaling her sunshiny scent. She relaxed against him, sighing in contentment. “Sweet dreams, Taylor,” he said, brushing his lips over her hair. “You don’t have to worry about anything when I’m here.”