Chapter One #2
“Ahem,” He clears his throat. Shit, that’s not keeping it above the waist. “After the way you were checking me out in line, feel free to have a peek, love.” His voice is thick with amusement.
“The grandma and the designer sisters are gawking at your ass. Isn’t that enough attention?”
“I don’t want their attention.” Is this seriously happening right now?
Am I dreaming? Did someone slip acid in my orange juice?
I’m standing in the middle of a bank robbery, bare ass to the wind while a nude muscled god flirts with me.
Two of the bandits lead the bank manager back to open the safe while the other two guard a group of naked hostages intent on staring at the floor.
“Do you always hit on naked women in banks?”
“Only the beautiful ones.”
“I guess you really didn’t peek.”
A chuckle rattles his chest. “I promise I didn’t see anything…
below the waist.” Way to say you saw my tits, asshole.
“What?” he says, a little grin lifting his lips at my glare.
“Above the waist was the deal, wasn’t it?
” We’re interrupted by the bandits ordering everyone to lie face down on the floor.
“Guess that’s about to change,” I groan, lying on my belly. No way to hide my ass in this position. My eyes betray me by sneaking a peek at his round cheeks.
“I’m Mason, by the way.” Propping his chin on his elbow as if he’s just lounging in his living room, he waits for me to reciprocate.
“Mason, thank you for protecting me. I’ll admit our little conversation made this situation far more bearable, and the sight of your toned ass didn’t hurt. I’ve had quite enough humiliation for one day so please don’t be offended when I say I hope we never see one another again.”
“You get to check out my ass and I don’t even get your name?”
“It’s Everly,” I reply with a sigh.
“Well, it’s been fun, Evie. And we’ll see each other again.” Before I can respond, the S.W.A.T. team storms into the building, long minutes after the bandits have fled.
My next two hours are spent being questioned by FBI agents.
The burglars wore masks and saw us naked.
How many ways do they want to hear me say it?
Their questions are exhausting and when I’m finally free to go all I want is a nap.
At least I manage to leave while they’re still questioning Mason in another room.
This whole thing was humiliating, the only saving grace that I’ll never have to see any of these people again.
The city bustles and blares around me on my walk home, but I’m lost inside my own head. It’s a wonder I don’t get run down in the street. Indianapolis isn’t known for its patience.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Hall.” Jeremy, the doorman greets me as I zombie my way through the lobby of my building.
“Afternoon,” I mumble, rushing into the elevator and up to my fifteenth floor apartment.
Locking the door behind me, I shed my clothes on my way to bed and curl up under the comforter, blocking out this shitty morning.
It’s after five when my phone wakes me. A familiar face grins at me from the screen. “Hey, Ian.”
“Hey, Ev. We still meeting at Mann’s Grill?”
“Yep. I need a roast beef manhattan in the worst way.”
“Bad day?”
“Oh, you know, met Amy for breakfast, shopped a little, had to strip naked in front of a bunch of strangers at gunpoint, the usual.”
“Holy fuck, Everly! You were at Mideastern when it got hit? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“They said there were shots fired.”
“One shot. Into the ceiling.”
A relieved sigh rattles the speaker. “Ev, are you sure you’re okay? I can just come over there and bring takeout from Mann’s.”
“I’m fine, but I’m not going to argue with a meal on wheels tonight. Supernatural is on at eight.”
“I’ll be there in an hour, pup.”
Amy may be my go-to for guy advice and other general girl stuff, but Ian is my rock.
We were placed in the same group home when I was ten.
I was pissed off and miserable, refusing to talk to anyone or participate in anything.
It didn’t endear me to the other kids. When two boys cornered me, threatening to jump me unless I showed them my non-existent tits, Ian came to my rescue.
He got a bloody nose for his trouble, but they never bothered me again.
I stuck close to him after that, or in his words, I “followed him around like a lost pup”.
We kept in touch when he aged out of the system. He went to college on the state’s dime and moved on to become a very successful accountant. I’m still amazed at the man that gruff, sullen teenager grew to be.
An hour after our call, Ian stares at me over my dining room table, jaw agape as I recount my eventful morning. “He stepped between you and the gunman, then blocked you from being seen by the others? Did you get this white knight’s phone number?”
“Of course not!” My wadded up napkin bounces off his forehead.
“Why the hell not?”
“You didn’t see the guy. Way out of my league. Plus, he saw me standing naked in public. It was humiliating.”
Ian’s dark brown eyes meet mine and he frowns. “No one is out of your league. How many times do I have to tell you that? He obviously liked what he saw. And you need to get back out there. Don’t let one disastrous relationship ruin your chance to find a decent guy.”
“My head is filled with clichés of glass houses, pots, and kettles.”
“I date!”
“You don’t date. You fuck. A different girl every week, seems like.”
“So I like to shop around before I settle.”
“Well, you’re going to run out of floor models to sample if you aren’t careful. You need a good woman.”
He tugs me onto the couch and slings his arm around my neck. “I have a good woman.”
“One who also sleeps with you.” A teasing smile curves his lips, and I smack his arm. “Quit it. We tried that, remember?”
His wind mussed hair flops over his forehead as he shakes his head, laughing. “I’ll never understand how two gorgeous people can love one another yet have zero chemistry.”
“Can I borrow some of your arrogance?”
“Confidence. And yes, if you use it to get laid.”
“Shut up. Sam and Dean are on,” I exclaim, turning up the T.V. and leaning my head on his shoulder as Carry on my Wayward Son begins to play.
“Dean is such a badass.”
“You have a man crush on him.”
“Go fuck yourself, Ev.”
“You’d totally blow him if you had the chance.” A yelp escapes my throat when he pinches the back of my arm. His fingers thread through my hair, a comforting gesture we always share. “Thanks for coming. I needed this.”
“I got you, pup.”