The Accidental Girlfriend

“Let’s go! They’re playing sex bomb, and it’s stripper time!”

Oh, sweet Jesus.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN – LAUREN

“I’m scarred, Mason.”

He slid the mug of coffee across the island toward me. “Here. Drink this. It’ll calm your nerves.”

I looked into the steaming mug. “Nothing will calm my nerves. I cannot unsee what I’ve seen tonight.”

Nodding, he let out a long breath as he cradled his own mug. “All I can do is apologize. If I knew it would get that bad, I would have taken you and ran.”

“I don’t think I can get over this.”

“You know you can talk to people about how you’re feeling.”

“I don’t think I can talk about it. It’s seared into my brain.” I peered over at him. “All I know is I never, ever, ever want a lap dance from an eighty-five-year-old man again.”

All he could do was nod his agreement, slowly, and with eyes full of pity. “I have to admit, watching it was painful. I still don’t really know how you got wrangled into it.”

“It was quite simple. Pru grabbed me, sat me in a chair, and tied me to it with a scarf before I could protest. She’s annoyingly quick for an old woman.” I shuddered at the memory. “And ties knots better than a pirate. I’m surprised she hasn’t taken command of a fleet of pirate ships.”

“She tried to. Once. But it was a kid’s playground, and they had to call a police officer to remove her.” He stirred his coffee and looked up at me with a glint in his eye. “She tells the story differently, but there’s no way she’s ever wrangled an alligator.”

I snorted coffee up my nose. “Ahhh!”

“Sorry.” He didn’t look sorry at all.

“Whatever.” I pinched my nose until it stopped burning. “Is it bad I can imagine her doing that?”

His eyes glittered. “No. But imagining it probably isn’t anything nearly as scary as actually witnessing it.”

“No shit.” I picked up my coffee and made my way over to the sofa.

Mason grabbed his and followed me over, taking the seat next to me. “Sorry you got dragged into the crazy. I actually told them to dial it in a little so they didn’t scare you off.”

“Scare me off? Are you trying to seduce me into staying?”

“No. But they had to believe I was.”

“Wow. No need to shoot me down so brutally.”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop it. Don’t tell me you’re getting sensitive now.”

I swallowed, pushing hair from my eyes. “I’m not. I don’t get sensitive. I’m not a clitoris.”

“You sound sensitive.”

“Am I not allowed to be?”

“You just said you don’t get sensitive.”

“Exactly. I don’t get sensitive. Doesn’t mean I’m not already.”

He looked at me for the longest second, his blue eyes bright yet clouded with questions at the same time. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” I smiled tightly and took a big drink of my coffee.

And I was. I was fine. I was okay. I just wasn’t comfortable with how I was feeling, which wasn’t appropriate at all.

Neither was the lap dance, but I digress.

I was feeling far too many things for the man who was sitting mere feet away from me. There was only so much time you could spend with someone before you really started to feel things for them, and I think we’d crossed the line tonight.

At least I had.

I’d crossed the line. Attraction toward Mason had turned into something a little bit stronger. Real feelings—ones that had the potential to end up with me getting hurt. They were also ones I had to keep to myself, especially now that I was admitting to myself that they existed.

I had feelings for Mason Jackson.

Very real feelings.

There.

The truth was out there.

Well, out inside my head. I wasn’t going to say it out loud. That was a recipe for disaster. We’d set boundaries, and I was the one who was overstepping them.

It was what it was. This funk of a mood had come out of nowhere, especially since I had already shaken off one of these today. He’d been the thing to pull me out of the terrible mood I’d found myself in thanks to my mother, and now here I was, back in one, because of myself.

I should have known this would happen the second I answered my door and laid eyes on him.

I should have known I wouldn’t be able to keep to any of the rules I’d set. I’ve been so adamant about sticking to them; repeatedly drawing the line, scribbling over them with Sharpie until I broke holes into the paper.

Now, there was no way I could break them. There was no way I could tell him how I was feeling now.

I finished my coffee and got up, taking the cup into the kitchen. Exhaustion came over me in a wave. Apparently, the wine was more effective than the coffee tonight.