Ex Games

Awesome. Love this place, I snorted as I regained my footing and resisted the urge to follow my coworkers outside to watch. But my self-control lasted all of two seconds before I grabbed my tray and headed out to get myself a peek of Mr. Mystery Babe.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised when I saw it was Mason.

“How the hell?” I muttered under my breath as my coworkers glared at me for daring to stand near them.

“Out of our way? Thanks.” Arms hooked, they waltzed to stand right in front of me and within seconds, they were bouncing on their toes and squealing because across the bar, Brielle was breaking the rules by sliding seductively into the booth with Mason.

I bit my lip, shuffling aside for a better view of him. He was wearing the hell out of one of his usual suits – sleek, grey and fitted paired with a crisp white shirt underneath. Unlike a few days ago, his dark hair was neat and gently slicked back. He looked like the kind of rich and handsome that clearly didn’t belong in a place like Faddy Ales, and every woman in the room had taken notice. In fact, it felt like the entire place had stopped in its tracks to watch him, and I was hardly surprised because as always – the way Aaron hated – Mason commanded attention. It was precisely why my heart stopped when Brielle leaned into his whisper, biting back a big, flirty smile that slowly faded as her eyes lifted up to find me.

Oh boy.

And suddenly, Brielle sat up straight, rose to her feet and walked stiffly away from the table, directly blocking my view of Mason as she stomped with increasing fury at me. Dozens of stares flew in my direction as I stood there, just waiting to hear the words from my coworker that I could already predict.

“He asked for you,” Brielle muttered, face red and lip curling as she stormed right past me. Stunned but hardly surprised, I stared across the room at Mason. I shook my head at his thoroughly arched eyebrows, our eyes locking only after he took his time drinking me in from head to toe. Goddamn this uniform, I thought for the millionth time as I forced myself to march over to Mason in long, hard strides. I was humiliated but refused to show it so when I finally reached him, I cocked my hip, held my tray up high and spoke before him.

“Don’t.”

He was already laughing. “What?”

“Crack all the predictable jokes. I know you’re dying to, but let me do it for you. Yes, I work as a Faddy’s girl. Yes, I’m wearing a padded bra under a child-sized Eagles jersey and yes, my pants are ridiculously tight.”

“No judgment here. My own are getting tighter as we speak.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right. So now that we’ve gotten the obligatory mention of your dick out of the way, can you please tell me how you even found me here?”

“There was a McFadden’s paycheck on your kitchen counter,” Mason said, prompting my groan. “And I was actually going to spare you the jokes. I’m sure you get enough grade-A material from your sophisticated clientele.”

I glanced at the tables of overgrown frat boys – mostly finance bros who wore too much Axe and called me “dollface.” “I do. Thanks.”

“Of course. And since the reason isn’t exactly jumping out at me here, care to tell me why you’d rather work at this dump than come with me to the wedding?”

“I’d rather work for a dump than a prick.”

He studied the amusement on my face. “Charming. But you still essentially work for pricks when you’re serving guys who tip ten percent and slap your ass while you’re carrying a full tray.”

I lifted my brows high. “The accuracy of that tells me you have personal experience with being a dick to waitresses.”

“If observing Aaron at bars back in grad school counts as personal experience,” Mason replied, watching my face fall like a brick at the mention of Aaron. “On the topic of that idiot, I wanted to clarify something from our conversation on Wednesday.”

I glanced around for anyone trying to flag me down, but I had zero tables. With reluctance, I turned back to Mason. “Go for it.”

He gave a short, admittedly sexy laugh as he rubbed his jaw. “Look, I know you’re smarter than to run back to him, Taylor,” he said, his voice so low and genuine I found myself suddenly disarmed. “And if you want the truth, I think you deserve better than him. But as much as I can’t stand the kid, Aaron’s my brother. I can’t let him marry into crazy. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into, and I’m not going to waste your time trying to explain it. I’m just hoping you’ll realize that this plan would work in your favor too. Worst-case scenario, it falls through and he marries her. But you still get your shot at closure, and you still get to quit this place and wipe out all your debt at once. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

I clenched my jaw. No. It didn’t sound bad. It sounded perfect and like everything I wanted and needed, but my body was still wired to resist. “No one would ever believe that you and I became a couple,” I pointed out.

“No one would’ve ever believed that Aaron might marry Eva Tully, yet here we are,” Mason countered easily. “Nothing is ever as far-fetched as you think. We’ll just say I went to your house to tell you about the wedding. You were predictably distraught. I capitalized on your vulnerability and got you in bed.”

My face contorted with disgust. “Ugh. That’s horrible.”

“It didn’t actually happen, Taylor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thank you. For the clarification.”

“No problem. Now go ahead and ask me whatever other questions you have to delay your decision to say yes.” Mason kept his gaze pinned on me as he leaned back, loosening his skinny black tie. God, he was so arrogant I almost wanted to reject his offer and live in debt just to spite him.

“You know, I have a real job besides this one,” I finally pointed out. “I assume you’ll be wanting to go to St. Lucia well before the wedding so you have time to change Aaron’s mind. But if you need me for more than a weekend, I won’t be able to get the time off.”

“I’m sure you can. Ideally, I’d want you off for two weeks.”