Shelly grunted an unintelligible answer as she watched Mason plate the eggs he’d been scrambling. She stood and moved around the bench, making her way to the stove. When she got there, she reached out to take the plate he was offering. But, when she gripped it, he held onto the edge, making her look up at him.
“Funny thing. Josh was gone right at the same time you were,” he pointed out with a curious expression on his too handsome face.
Shelly felt every muscle in her body freeze. She tried to remain calm and not give herself away. As she stood there, her gaze locking with Casanova’s, she felt like maybe her poker face was crumbling.
“Huh. Yeah, that is funny. I don’t know where he was. Probably off in a dark corner somewhere.”
Mason’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded as he let go of the plate. Shelly felt like he could read her mind as he stood there staring at her. God, she hoped not because it was currently screaming, I’m lying! I’m lying!
“Yeah, probably. Josh never had a problem getting a woman into a dark corner.”
I bet, Shelly thought to herself. He’d had no problem getting her in an open-spaced, dimly lit parking lot.
“Typical,” she responded just to say something while she spun away from Mason’s probing stare. When she was seated at the bench, she watched him move over to the counter with a hand towel, wiping his hands.
“What do you mean typical? He’s a good guy, got a good job. Why not give him a chance?”
Shelly lifted a fork, stabbing into the eggs like they were her mortal enemy, and then raised them to her lips, grinning. “Because I gave a guy like him a chance once, and he used it all up for every other guy like him.”
Mason threw the towel on the counter as Shelly heard Lena come out from the room behind her.
“What do you mean guys like him? And that doesn’t seem real fair, does it?” Mason paused, watching her. “I didn’t think you were such a snob.”
Shelly let her fork drop down on the plate with a clang. “And I didn’t think you were such a gossipy woman. Geez, Mason, let it go. Why do I need to be banging your friend?”
Lena stopped at the end of the counter, looking back and forth between Shelly and her fiancé. Mason very rarely got upset or annoyed at anything, but right now, he looked a little bit ruffled.
“You don’t, Shelly, although it might help with the bitchy attitude.”
Sighing, Shelly picked up her fork and looked at the man opposite her—a man who had surprisingly become a really good friend.
“You’re right about one thing. I need to get laid. But not with Josh, okay? It’s just too complicated and messy with us all knowing each other.” She paused, thinking that if she were Pinocchio, her nose would have grown past Mason, through the kitchen wall, and back out into the hall. “I had a bad experience with a man, and guys like Josh remind me of him. So, I just try and steer clear.”
Mason reached over, putting a hand on hers. “Okay. I’ll lay off.” He paused, his killer smile and twin dimples appearing. “But, for God’s sake, go and find someone to jump. You’re turning into an old-frustrated broad.”
Lena gasped, and Shelly giggled.
“Are you telling me to get laid, Langley?”
“Yes! Go and find a willing man, which I know will be extremely easy for you, and ride him home.”
Shelly looked at Lena, who was staring at Mason with a what-the-fuck-did-you-just-say look. Then, she turned back to Shelly and shrugged.
“Okay, okay! You’ve convinced me. I’ll go and find a man to—what did you say—ride. So, I no longer act like a bitch to my two closest and dearest friends.” Pausing, she lifted the fork, shoveling the eggs into her mouth. “Damn, the things I do for you two.”
With that, the three of them burst out laughing.
Josh arrived at his brother’s house a little after 11 a.m. Parking near the side of his place, Josh got out and made his way through the back door and into the kitchen. He found his brother, Jeremy, standing at the counter putting a bag of chips into a bowl.
“Hey, Martha Stewart,” he greeted him from the doorway.
Josh’s younger brother turned and flipped him the finger. “Up yours, Josh. How you doing?”
Strolling into the kitchen, Josh grabbed a chip, crunching down onto it. He leaned up against the sink and shrugged. “Not bad. You?”
“Same,” Jeremy answered as he turned to the fridge. Opening it, he searched around, and then came back with a jar of salsa.
Jeremy was two years younger than Josh, had blonde hair that was longer than usual, and almost looked like a “surfer dude,” except for the fact that they lived in Chicago.
“So, who’s coming today?” Josh asked, reaching for another chip.
“Vince and Cole.”
Nodding, Josh picked up the two bowls and followed his brother through the house to the game room.
Vince was his Crew Manager and now friend. He’d hired him around two years ago with his tough but fair attitude, and he’d been running things in Chicago when Josh had been in L.A. Physically he was short, stocky, and as some of the other guys called him, scary as hell.
Jeremy had set up the usual poker table, and Josh put the chips and salsa on the side table where the cooler sat beside it.
“I can’t believe Cole agreed to come. Last time he was here we cleaned the floor with him.”
Josh laughed at his brother, moving to the stereo. “I know. I just told him the same exact thing today, but he has informed me that he has ‘read up on it and now knows all the rules.’”
Jeremy looked over at him, and they both started to laugh.
“God, that guy is something else. He’s such a suit and yet so flippin’ scary cool at the same time. I don’t know how he pulls it off,” Jeremy said, shaking his head.
Josh finally found what he was looking for—ahh, classic Pink Floyd—and put the vinyl on. “No one knows what makes that guy tick, and shit, I’ve known him for years. He never gives anything away either.” Josh smiled as the doorbell sounded. “I’ll go let them in.”
“Okay, I’m just gonna get the rest of the food,” Jeremy answered, walking back into the kitchen.
Two hours later and several beers in, Josh was down twenty bucks but was almost positive he was about to win fifty. Sitting across from a stoic-faced Cole, Josh was starting to think the guy was up to something.
Cole had been kicking everyone’s ass tonight. He’d walked in dressed in a three-piece suit from an earlier meeting in the office—yes, on a Saturday—acting like he’d just read up on how to play last night. Then, he’d sat down and proceeded to clean house.
The guy was playing them and playing them well, but Josh felt like he had this one. After all, he had a straight flush. There he sat, staring at his five hearts, as Cole slowly smirked at him like a cool seasoned pro.
“You know this I’m-better-than-you smile makes you look real ugly, Madison.”
Cole just smiled wider. “Does it? I thought it made me look…” He paused, cocking his dirty blonde head to the side as the other two sat back watching. “Rich?”
Josh shook his head and picked up his beer, taking a swig. “Nope, sorry, just ugly.”
Cole nodded and asked him, “So, what’s eating you? Usually, you’re a much better loser when these other guys win. Is it because it’s me kicking your sorry ass?”
Josh laughed a little and ran a hand up and through his hair, thinking about a certain blonde. “Nah. Not that I’ve lost,” he stressed. “You going to show your cards or keep talking shit?”
Cole casually put down his five cards. Sitting up and leaning across the table, Josh and the other two men stared in complete shock at Cole’s beautiful royal straight flush.