Turn Over

“This is my first job. My first job. My only job. I don’t own twenty different companies. And my bank account isn’t overwhelmed with zeros.” Her voice rose. “I worked hard to get that job. I moved by myself. I live in a cramped studio apartment. And it’s over.” Her eyes turned on me. “Because I slept with you.”

“Hold on. I seem to remember this has all been mutual.” I didn’t like the direction this was headed.

“But only one of us has really been in control the entire time.”

“You have had as much control as I have. More if you ask me.”

She shook her head. “More? How could I have more? You’re the one with the car and the trips and the money.”

“That has nothing to do with you and me. You know that.” I brushed her hair off her shoulder. “You are one of the only women I’ve been with who didn’t care about that stuff. As a matter of fact, I think my money annoys you more than anything.”

“It is a little irritating.” She scowled.

“Tell me why we’re fighting right now? Because all I could think about through those calls and meetings was seeing you at the end of the day. God, I’ve never rushed through a day before just to get to the end. What have you done to me?”

“I can’t stay in South Padre, Mason. It’s like a big, sick, twisted joke. I told my boss about you so we could have this, and because of it we can’t have it.” A tear slid against her cheek.

“You have forgotten who you are dealing with.”

Her head cocked to the side. “Do I want to know?”

“Tomorrow, getting a job for you is my top priority. At the very beginning of the list.”

“And what about tonight?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Oh, that’s easy. Making you feel better is my top priority.”

“You think you can do that?” She sounded doubtful.

I kissed her gently before standing. “You need dinner, a glass of wine, probably a backrub and then a hot bath. Sound good?” I walked to the fridge and began to uncork a bottle of cold wine.

“Did you read that in a book somewhere?” She watched me while I poured a glass and carried it to her.

“Not what you want?”

“Oh, I definitely want it. I’m not going to turn any of it down.” She took a sip and sank back on the couch.

I pulled out my phone. “Pete’s for dinner? I’ll walk over and pick it up. You can hang out here. Relax.”

“Pete’s sounds good. I want an enormous cheeseburger. Tell Mac to pile on the fries too.” She rested her feet on the end of the couch, shoving a pillow out of the way.

I placed the call and ordered two plates to go. “I’ll be right back. Enjoy the quiet. We’ll figure this out, girl. There’s always another deal along the way. We only have to find the right one for you.”

I left her sitting on the couch, a glass of wine in hand, the wheels spinning in her head about her job. I knew to her it seemed as if the bottom had fallen out, but I knew better. She was smart and talented. There would be another job. When I returned with dinner I‘d have to tell her how many times I had been fired. It sucked, but it made me stronger. She would bounce back more resilient, more experienced.

Grey was standing next to the bar when I walked in.

“Hey,” he greeted me.

“Where’s Eden?” I looked around but other than a few guys playing pool, Pete’s looked slow tonight.

“She sent me to pick up dinner. What about you?”

I chuckled. “Same. Sydney’s back at the condo.”

“Think we have time for a beer?” Grey checked over his shoulder as if Eden was about to walk through the door.

The cook was still prepping the orders. I didn’t see anything pass through the kitchen window.