Page 11 of Rival for Rent
The itch in my back spiked, and heat flushed up my neck. It had been a long time since someone got under my skin like this.
“I can’t believe I’m even having this conversation,” Kai said.
And maybe it was because he was looking at me instead of where he was going, but suddenly he stumbled, shouted, and fell.
The crowd parted, swelled, then parted again around him. I reached out instinctively, grabbing his arm to help him up.
He stared at me—not in anger anymore. In fear.
Then he grimaced and reached behind himself, touching the back of his tuxedo jacket. His face twisted in pain.
When he finally brought his hand forward again, it was covered in blood.
4
KAI
This time, Mason was the one pacing the floors of my house, while I sat on the sofa in the living room, watching him.
He strode back and forth from the living room to the kitchen and back again. Bella followed at his heels like he might magically produce a treat, even thoughIwas the one who fed her. Ungrateful mutt.
It was strange, having Mason Clark in my house. In my house and not shoving me into a locker or knocking a stack of books from my hands or dunking my head in the toilet. Well, okay—Mason and his friends had never done that last one, but they’d come pretty damn close.
In high school, Mason had been my tormentor. Captain of the football team, most popular guy in school, and for some reason, he’d had it out for me. He and his friends had made my life hell, no matter how hard I tried to avoid them.
He must have known I was gay. I wasn’t officially out back then, but it couldn’t have been that hard to tell. And popular kids likeMason picked on anyone who was different, to shore up their own social standing.
But this wasn’t high school anymore. I was thirty goddamned years old, and I wasn’t afraid of Mason. I wasn’t.
(Statistically speaking, adults were seventy percent less likely to be shoved into lockers. Probably.)
Of course, it didn’t help that Mason still looked like he could beat the crap out of me if he wanted to. He’d only gotten bigger and stronger since school. He’d taken off his leather jacket once we got back to my house—correction, once he’d refused to leave my side and insisted on coming back here no matter what I wanted—and his arms were about as big as my head.
I wondered, idly, what he’d been doing the past twelve years. Some kind of physical job? Or was he just really into working out? Surely I would’ve heard if he’d gone pro with football.
Then I reminded myself I didn’t care. I didn’t like Mason, and I wanted him gone.
Only, he refused to leave.
He certainly looked the part of a bodyguard. Face tight in a scowl, gaze sharp and alert, pacing my living room like he was ready to kill. In high school, that expression used to scare me. It was weird, seeing it again, but knowing I wasn’t its target.
He also looked gorgeous, but that was entirely beside the point. Mason had always been unfairly attractive, with that sandy blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and a jaw that jutted out like a fist.
“I really am fine,” I said for what felt like the hundredth time since he’d helped me up at the theater.
I’d been stunned by the blood on my hands—so much that it made me woozy. As soon as he’d helped me to my feet, I’d seen the smear and nearly fainted. Well, the searing pain in my side didn’t help. But if I hadn’t gone and practically swooned in his arms like some Victorian maiden, I was sure I could’ve gotten him to leave by now. Ridiculous. I was a grown man. I didn’t need anyone’s help. Certainly not Mason’s.
“You’re not fine,” he snapped. “You got hurt. On my watch. I should’ve prevented this.”
“No, you should’ve gone home when I told you to,” I said, annoyed now. “Just like I’m telling youright now. You really don’t have to stay.”
He ignored me. He reached the kitchen island, turned on his heel, and stalked back across the living room. “If I hadn’t let you get under my skin, it might not have happened. I knew I needed to be on my guard.”
“I was getting underyourskin?” I shot forward on the couch, incredulous. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who barged into my life a few hours ago and hasn’t left since.”
It was like he didn’t even hear me. He kept talking—more to himself than to me now.
“I felt it. I thought I was mad at you. But it was my gut telling me something was going to happen.”
