The Price of Mason (Forbidden Men 10)

She never got to answer, though. Three girls walking by interrupted with their noisy conversation.

“See, they are dating,” one said, staring right at us. “He’s holding her hand. I told you he couldn’t be a gigolo.”

Dammit.

What the hell was I doing?

I was supposed to make it look like we were strictly in the friend zone.

I jerked my hand from Reese’s and shifted backward on the bench to put some space between us.

Reese scowled at the passing girls. “We can hear you, you know.”

All three of them snapped their gazes our way and just as quickly looked away again. Then they scurried off, laughing among themselves.

Turning to me, Reese motioned vaguely after them. “Don’t listen to them. They’re…ignorant.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I said, slamming my calculus book shut and shoving it into my bag. I sent her a tight smile, hoping to God I hadn’t made things worse instead of better by sitting by her every day. “Have a good Labor Day weekend, okay?”

But really, I was telling her to have a good life, because I knew I’d been going too far. It was time to stop this little obsession I was growing. It was time to stay away permanently.

Confession #15: And sometimes, I actually did the right thing.

I was seriously a backward kind of guy. I swear. It seemed as if the nobler or grander my intentions were, the worse I fucked a situation up.

Two years ago, I’d agreed to sleep with my landlady one time in order to pay off all my mom’s back rent. And here, I’d ended up becoming a male escort because of it.

Then Reese had come along, and I’d known from the first moment I heard her laugh that she’d be better off if I kept my distance. So what had ended up happening there? Yep, I’d tangled myself up in her until I was talking to her every day, eating lunch with her, and even touching her.

But this time… This time, I swore I was going to stay away.

Yet even as I made that oh-so-noble promise to myself, another darker part of me laughed at my stupidity. I suspected I was far from over messing up her life. I wouldn’t intentionally get her hurt, of course, but that part of me that knew better recognized she was doomed, anyway.

My grand plans to disappear started okay, though.

I managed to avoid her that evening, leaving for work before she showed up to babysit Sarah.

A few hours later, I even succeeded in not thinking about her for about five minutes straight.

Progress.

When a black Acura with the windows tinted—which usually meant politician—pulled into the valet station, I was eager for something to do, so I hurried forward and opened the driver’s side door. Except a client of mine emerged, beginning that awkward moment of recognition.

Despite h

ow it might appear, I really didn’t run across clients at the Country Club all that often. But yeah, it happened maybe once or twice—sometimes three times—a month, so I was also used to it.

He was not.

Or maybe I should say they were not, since my coworker opened the passenger door to help the second rider out...who was also a client. The couple was married to each other: the husband a senator and his wife from old money. They had paid me twice what anyone else ever had in order to keep my time with them discreet. I’d even signed a waiver for my silence. Both were actually nice people, but okay, if anyone learned about even a little of their bedroom kink, their political careers would probably perish…or maybe not, what with the way things worked these days. But I had a feeling they didn’t want to take that chance, so I was no doubt one of their biggest cover-ups.

I could practically taste the shock on the husband’s face when he looked up at the kid who’d helped him tie his wife up a couple months back and given her the birthday present she’d always wanted. He immediately paused, his face paling and his eyes widening.

“Good God. What’re you doing here?” He glanced across the top of his car toward his wife, who was looking down, checking something in her purse as she moved around toward us. Then he turned back to me, his eyes flashing with heat. “Did Farah set up a surprise for me?”

I glanced down to clear my throat, hoping he wouldn’t catch my expression in case any of my emotions leaked through, because it felt really weird for him to look at me the sensual way he was looking at me. “No, sir,” I said to the ground. “I actually work here.”

“O…oh.” He sounded distinctly disappointed. And confused. I caught sight of his shoes shifting as if he might be as suddenly uncomfortable as I was. I glanced up. He offered me a tense smile but politely asked, “How long have you worked here?”