I heard myself gasp. "What?"
She looked to me and said, "Well,youcan't take it. You already have a job."
"But—"
"Now shush," she said. "Mason and I are talking."
I replied, "You are not."
"Of course we are," she insisted.
"No," I repeated. "You're not. Becauseyou'rethe only one saying anything."
She gave me an annoyed look. "Yeah, becauseyou'realways interrupting." She looked back to Mason and gave him a winning smile. "So, you were saying…?"
It was then that Mason looked to me and said the most shocking thing yet. "You wanna dance?"
Chapter 5
Mason
Her lips parted, and she blinked several times before saying, "Excuse me?"
She was wearing a white V-neck sweater, along with a pale denim mini-skirt. Instead of high heels, she wore white canvas sneakers with white ankle-length socks.
She had nice legs.I'd noticedthisbefore I'd ever reached her, just like Inownoticed the green of her eyes and the fullness of her lips as she stared up at me with obvious confusion.
She looked so cute, I almost smiled.But I didn't.I wasn't here on a social call. And hell if I'd be giving her the wrong idea, especially now, when she was going to be living in my house.
I clarified, "So we can talk."
Cami gave her friend a quick sideways glance. "Oh. You mean in private?"
Next to me, the friend said, "Hey! I heard that."
I turned to the friend. "Good. It saves me the trouble."
Yeah, I was being a dick, but I knew her type all too well.She was the kind of girl who'd been playing life on easy mode for far too long.And it showed.
The friend gave me a pleading look. "But what aboutmyoffer? I'd justloveto be the nanny."
Oh, for fuck's sake."You, I already had. And I'm not interested."
She drew back. "You already had me? What does that mean?" She lowered her voice. "You don't mean sexually, do you? Because I'm sure I would've rememberedthat."
Yeah. She would've.
I might be an asshole in public. But in private, I'd never gotten any complaints, well, not in the bedroom, anyway.
I told her, "That's not what I meant." I looked back to Cami. "You ready?"
She was still staring. "Sorry, what?"
I flicked my head toward the dance floor. As I did, the local band struck up an old love ballad – one I hadn't heard since high school.
I couldn't recall the song's name, but I did recall getting lucky in my old Chevy beater with Tara Johnson in the back seat while that same song had played on my ancient car stereo.
That was twelve years ago.
