Chapter 13 Mazzie
Mazzie
A sticky sweetness of humidity clung to my skin as Lucas and I strolled along the winding path around the clubhouse.
I couldn’t believe I would be working at a ritzy country club.
The hourly pay was better than the casino job, and with tips, I could make more money.
I was grateful to Justine for calling Miles.
Apparently, the country club was booked solid for the rest of year with weddings, baby showers, and two charity events.
“If Justine vouches for you, that’s all I need,” Miles, the head of the waitstaff, had said. Then he’d hired me on the spot.
I felt completely out of my element at a rich establishment like this, but a job was a job.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to break the tension as I stole glances at the man who was pulling at my heartstrings.
The golden afternoon light caught the stubble on his jaw, which was clenched as though he was bracing for impact.
“Lunch with my mom. You?”
I couldn’t remember the last time I had a meal with my mom. “I was just offered a job working weddings, birthday parties, and other types of events.”
“Congrats. That’s awesome.” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
Colorful flowers lined the path as live oak trees rustled in the distance.
“So, what did you want to talk about?” he asked.
Oh, how I was an emotional mess. How he was changing me in ways that I didn’t want to acknowledge.
He was safe, warm, steady, solid—everything I wanted but couldn’t afford.
I was afraid if I ever admitted that my heart hurt when I wasn’t near him or that his protective nature was something I craved, I would lose myself, and I couldn’t take the road less traveled.
I inhaled a quiet breath, breathing in the sweet smells of jasmine and honeysuckle wafting in the air along with the crisp scent of Lucas’s cologne. “I’m sorry for running out of your truck. I was rude, and you didn’t deserve that.”
Since he’d dropped me at Bailey’s the other night, Lucas had been on my mind constantly. Bailey kept urging me to talk to him, to tell him how I felt and what I was up against. To be honest with him.
“I know you’re going through a tough time with your mom,” he said. “No need to apologize.”
Tension followed us the rest of the way, and every step toward the gazebo felt like I was walking toward the edge of a cliff as I mentally practiced the next topic I needed to discuss—us.
My mom believed in fairy tales, in men like Lucas, in romance and love, and now, she was sitting in jail.
I promised myself I wouldn’t follow in her footsteps, but as the gazebo came into view, flashes of nights where my mom got ready for yet another date danced before me.
I saw the hope in her smile and the dreamy look in her eyes that signaled she thought the latest guy could be her knight in shining armor, and I heard her words—“This one’s different, Mazzie.
This one could be the one.” Always the same words. Always the same disappointment.
I let go of Lucas, removed my heels that were killing me, and stepped off the limestone path onto the cool, soft grass that rolled down to the lake and surrounded the gazebo on two sides. Hooking my fingers into the tops of my heels, I sighed as my feet thanked me for the soft carpet beneath them.
Lucas chuckled, stiff and cautious as though he knew what I was about to say.
I dragged my feet through the grass, dewy and damp blades tickling my toes, my mind searching for how to start the conversation.
But the fairy-tale setting—white gazebo where wedding pictures were taken, the backdrop of the lake ahead, the amphitheater off in the distance—was masking my thoughts.
I was kicking myself for suggesting this spot to talk.
It was too perfect, too romantic, and only served to screw with my head.
But after Miles had given me the tour of the property, I’d fallen in love with the place, imagining a wedding of my own here one day. But that was a pipe dream.
Lucas walked along the path, his gaze on me. “It’s my turn to say I’m sorry.”
I faltered when we reached the gazebo. “You’ve done nothing wrong.”
His copper eyes shimmered in the sunlight as he climbed into the gazebo with me. “Yes, I have. I was suffocating you that night in my truck. Insisting you tell me about your relationship with Josh. That’s none of my business.”
I set my shoes and bag on the bench and sat down while he kept his distance, sitting across from me.
Nerves rattled every part of my being as I started. “Thank you for that.” I tangled my hands in my lap. “I might be jumping the gun, but I need to get this off my chest so you know where I stand.”
He leaned his elbows on his knees, his massive biceps bunching. “I’m listening.”
“Remember the night at your house when I said no strings? I meant it, Lucas. I can’t do the friends with benefits thing either.
Friends? Yes. Anything more. I can’t. I’m not one for relationships.
I don’t do love. I don’t even know what that word means.
Besides, my life is too messy and complicated.
I know we never talked about dating or anything, but I needed to get that off my chest. I don’t want to give you the wrong impression, and I think I did. ”
He harrumphed. “Since we’re being honest, you’re lying to yourself.
” Hurt rode his tone. “And maybe I came off too strong and that reminded you of Josh, but your body language around me tells a completely different story than the words that just came out of your mouth.” He stood to his full height.
“But I appreciate your honesty, Midnight.”
Goddammit. That nickname gave me the freaking goose bumps, and he knew exactly how to get a reaction out of me.
“Tell me. What are you afraid of?”
My heart. My life. My resolve.
My gaze landed on him hard and fast as I popped to my feet, quickly moving away from him, because if he kissed me, I would cave.
Before I could take a breath, he had me backed up against the railing. Then a darkness washed over him as his fingers brushed the bruise on my arm. His whole body went rigid, his jaw clenched tight.
“I’m not like Josh.” He rested his forehead against mine like he needed the contact to keep his temper in check.
“I know that,” I said softly.
“Then why are you pushing me away?” His lips found my ear, teasing, nibbling, pulling a shiver straight down my spine.
A whimper escaped me. “Lucas, don’t.” I pressed my chest into his, static scrambling my brain. Forgetting why I was pushing him away.
“See how you tremble when I’m this close to you? I bet if I slipped my hand under your skirt, I would find that you’re dripping wet.”
My breath hitched, caught somewhere between a moan and a curse. I hated how right he was, how my body contradicted everything I’d said to him.
His thumb traced my bottom lip, and I had to fight the urge to suck it into my mouth.
I slid to the side and put distance between us. My skin felt cold without his heat, and I wrapped my arms around myself. “This is exactly why I can’t do this with you. You make me…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit how he disarranged my thoughts, made me forget everything I was working toward.
“Make you what?” He turned to face me with that infuriating confidence. Like he already knew the answer.
“Men don’t factor into my plan,” I said in a small voice. “I have a sister to take care of, a mother in jail, my premed classes aren’t easy, and I can’t have distractions.” The weight of that statement falling off my shoulders had me sighing heavily.
Something shifted in his expression, the cockiness fading into something softer. “Midnight—”
I raised my hands. “Don’t look at me like that.
Like you understand. You’re breezing through college with football.
You don’t work two jobs to make sure you have money to support a loved one.
I can’t fail my classes. If I do, my dad will revoke my tuition money.
” I had to be resolute. I had to be responsible.
And Lucas Allen was a drug that could destroy everything I cared about.
“You assume too much,” he said, running a hand through his blond strands. “You’re not the only one struggling. You’re not the only one with dreams. Hell, I’m not asking you to marry me. Just to give us a chance.”
My sense of control teetered on the edge, with him regarding me like I was the sun, moon, and stars.
I rubbed my hands down my skirt to regain my composure, which had shattered.
“Fuck, Mazzie.” He was in front of me in a flash.
“You don’t know what you do to me. I promised myself that I wouldn’t have a steady relationship in college.
Yet here I am wanting that with you. I know you want the same thing.
” His raspy Southern drawl caressed my skin like melted honey on warm bread.
My carefully constructed plan didn’t care about how good someone looked in worn jeans or how their voice could compel you to forget your own name.
He sighed and spun on his heel, ready to walk away.
“I don’t want to be another notch on your bedpost,” I rushed to say.
His shoulders lifted as he turned. “There it is. That’s what you’re afraid of.”
I was afraid of wanting him more than he wanted me.
“You are the campus golden boy who has a different girl every night.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “And you believe everything you hear as the truth? Then you’re not the girl I thought you were.” He frowned, studied me for long seconds, then left.
I collapsed on the bench, blinking away tears.
He was supposed to be the guy who forgot my name the next morning, who moved on to the next conquest without a backward glance. That was what made him safe—no strings.
But nothing about Lucas was safe.
I sat there for about five minutes practicing yoga breathing when my phone rang. I fished it out of my purse and answered the call from Lakemont University, thinking it was probably the purser’s office about my tuition payment. My dad had been known to send in the check late.
“Hello.”
“Is this Mazzie Meyers?” the man asked.
“Yes, it is,” I said.
“Good, I’m Professor Gantt from the history department. I understand from the tutoring center that you’re proficient in research methodologies and analytical skills.”
I’d only had one student assigned to me so far, but I’d only started at the tutoring center yesterday.
“That’s correct. As a premed student, those two skills are mandatory.”
“Good. I needed to make sure I found the right person before I sent my student to the tutoring center.”
“What’s the assignment?” I asked.
“A paper on the medical paradigm shifts that transpired in the early eighteen hundreds, which include statistical analysis.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem. I would ask that you set up a time with the center since they have the hours I can work.”
“Thank you. I’ll text you his info shortly and pass along your name to him.”
I was paid by the hour, which meant more students, more money.
I slipped on my heels and gathered my purse then wound my way through the manicured grounds to the parking lot, thinking of Lucas and our conversation.
What would it hurt to at least try with him? I couldn’t give up on all relationships. I couldn’t be alone all my life. He wasn’t like those men my mom dated. He was sweet, caring, and protective.
My phone beeped with a text, disintegrating my thoughts.
Mr. Gantt
My student’s name is Lucas Allen.
Then he proceeded to give me Lucas’s number.
My eyes popped out of my head. No freaking way! Then Lucas’s haunting words came back to me—You’re not the only one struggling.
I felt sick to my stomach. He was so right. I wasn’t the girl he thought I was. Regardless, how was I supposed to tutor Lucas without my heart getting in the way?