6. BAILEE
BAILEE
The sexy as fuck man wasn’t dressed in his gray suit anymore, but I didn’t resent the way I could see more of him, including the tattoos littered down both arms and peeking out from beneath his dark tank, nearly the entire sides of the cloth missing in action.
“Um-” My eyes couldn’t stop wandering the prime specimen of a human in front of me, the sweat on his brow, the way his muscles kept tensing as if he was just as uncomfortable with the situation as I was.
He gestured toward Malia’s room and hastily told me the reason for his unexpected appearance. “Your father mentioned something about repairs and said there wouldn’t be anyone here.”
I nodded. “Right. Yeah, I’m not really anyone.” I wanted to slap myself because that’s not what my father meant. I dropped my hand, remembering how short my dress was and hoping he couldn’t see my cheeks aflame with embarrassment. My music was still going in the background, but I was too scatterbrained to turn it off. It wasn’t even that loud.
He chuckled, “I’m all done now. I’ll just be leaving. Sorry about the intrusion.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m used to it.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I scrunched my nose and tilted my head as I stared at him, trying to figure him out. This man was very different from the professional one I had met earlier. “Is that a line?”
“If it is? Does that mean you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Talking doesn’t solve anything.” My head bowed, and I stared at the whiskey, wondering if I was brave enough to take a swig in front of him. There was more than enough alcohol swirling through my system but a little more couldn’t hurt. Lee, don’t start. Put it down. Bid him goodnight. And go the fuck to bed.
He shifted the equipment on his shoulder, just enough that his shirt bellowed out and gave me a full-on view of his chiseled stomach. Fucking hell. People are made like that? “I beg to differ. I think it gives you a different perspective. Once the words come out, it makes everything just a little bit more real.”
“You talk like someone who’s been hurt. A lot,” I mumbled, realizing that I didn’t want to talk about this anymore. I wanted to go cuddle my whiskey in my hammock and pretend I hadn’t met the guy. This was fucking embarrassing.
“I have.” It was a blanket statement, but one that held a lot more weight than it should have. And fucking hell, with all the whiskey on my tongue even as I was still between eye-fucking him and the bottle in my hand, I just had to ask.
“Fine.” I finally took another swig of the whiskey, hating the way it continued to coat my throat with liquid courage. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not particularly, no. But I could be persuaded.” His eyebrows wiggled as his eyes fell to the bottle in my hand. I thrust it out to him. He slipped it from my fingers, lightly brushing my palm, which sent shivers down my spine. He took a swig straight from the bottle, and I couldn’t hide the heat that shot straight down to my core at the fact that my lips had just been on that same rim seconds before. “That’s some nice shit.”
I hopped onto the counter. “So, spill.” Ah fuck, I was feeling really brave right now. I was going to regret it in a few minutes, as either my family would come waltzing back in, I threw up in the sink, or I just did something incredibly stupid that I couldn’t possibly defend tomorrow. Or all three.
The guy sighed, the corners of his eyes scrunching up a little as he began to spill. I hadn’t thought he actually would. “A crazy ex. A death in the family. And now I work for rich assholes like your parents.” I raised an eyebrow. “Now your turn.”
“Wait – what?” I couldn’t believe that he had just called my parents assholes. They were, but people were either too scared to say it or were too busy cozying up to them that they refused to say it. Seconds later, I realized that he had just turned the ball onto me.
He chuckled, shifting the bag again, but this time to the floor, and folded his arms across his chest, the veins in his arms popping out just enough to draw an embarrassing groan from my lips. “Baby girl, I’ve already talked out my problems. Many times over the years, in fact. It’s your turn. You keep hiding all those issues and bottling up those emotions, you’re going to implode.”
“Fuck.”
“Take your time, sweetheart.” I could see in his eyes that he actually seemed to care, but I wasn’t about to spill my secrets to this guy. I couldn’t. Right?
“Why do you even care?” My voice wavered as I spoke, tears threatening to unearth themselves. I couldn’t break. I wouldn’t. Not in front of him. Not here. Not at all. That was what the journal was for, a way to unleash my feelings and then bury them in some forgotten corner of the earth.
“That death in the family? You remind me of her. She kept it all in. And then one day she couldn’t handle it anymore.”
I gasped, trembling as I gripped the edge of the counter and began swinging my legs. “It’s Lee.” If he was going to get any part of me, the least I owed him was a name. My name.
“Hmm?” He raised an eyebrow until he caught on and offered his own. “Mason Pearce.”
Even his name was fucking sexy.