The Wingman (Alpha Men 1)

“So I’ll call him tomorrow,” she told Peaches as she turned to the kitchen to put the kettle on for some tea. “And that’ll be the end of it.”

CHAPTER THREE

Someone was knocking on Mason’s front door at a seriously ungodly time of the morning, and it was setting Cooper off. His Lab mix was downstairs barking at whatever crazy bastard was trying to break down the door. The knocking, combined with the barking, made it impossible for Mason to ignore the unwelcome caller.

“Yeah!” he yelled as he pushed himself out of his nice, warm bed and tugged on his sweatpants. He hissed when his feet hit the cold floor and let loose a stream of profanity that only grew more creative as he thumped his way downstairs.

“Coop, quiet,” he growled, and the dog immediately obeyed and sat on his rump, keeping his eyes trained on the front door. Mason yanked the door open and glared at Spencer, who was standing with his shoulders hunched against the rain, holding two giant paper cups of fragrant coffee.

His brother shoved one of the cups into Mason’s hands before pushing his way inside and heading straight for the kitchen. Mason glared at Spencer’s back, taking a sip of the coffee and slamming the front door pointedly before following the other man. Cooper was happily greeting Spencer, who had seated himself at the island in the center of the room. The guy was more than a little wet but didn’t seem to notice it.

“What the hell do you want, Spencer?” Mason asked impatiently, sitting down next to him. “It’s not even six yet. It’s freezing outside, and I’m hungover because you dragged me out last night.”

“Did Tanya ever hit on you?”

Whoa. Mason, who’d been about to say even more about his brother’s ill-timed visit, felt his mouth slam shut.

“Why are you asking me that?” he asked, monitoring Spencer’s reaction carefully.

“After you left last night, I ran into Graham Price, remember him?”

Mason vaguely recalled a guy about Spencer’s age, good with cars or something.

“Yeah?”

“Graham was drunk and congratulated me on my breakup with that treacherous skank, said she hit on everything with a dick. I mean, it wasn’t news to me, I know that she cheated on me. Saw it with my own eyes. But suddenly every guy I know has a story about how she hit on him and how lucky I am to be rid of her. And it got me thinking . . . every guy I know has a story. But not you. You never once said anything—good or bad—about her, and I was just wondering, you know. Did she ever hit on you?”

“What difference would it make if she did or didn’t?” Mason asked cautiously, hating that bitch for putting him in this position.

“Well, you’re my brother, and I reckon you would have warned me about her if she’d ever put the moves on you, right? You wouldn’t have let me just go on seeing that cheating bitch?”

Shit.

“Yeah, she hit on me, Spence,” Mason admitted, taking a deep sip of his now-lukewarm coffee, and watched his brother’s shoulders tense as he absorbed the blow.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, Mason?” Spencer asked, seething frustration in his voice.

“I was going to, I was trying to figure out how, but then you caught her with those guys and everything went to hell. Telling you at that time would just have poured salt on the wound and telling you afterward seemed unnecessary. You’d already heard about her from other guys, hearing it from me wouldn’t have made any difference. It would only have hurt you more. You get that, don’t you? I didn’t want to make it worse for you.”

Spencer didn’t say anything; he kept his gaze focused on his coffee.

“I feel like such an idiot,” he confessed after a long silence. “I thought she was the one, man.”

“I know.”

“So last night was a colossally stupid idea.” The abrupt change in subject threw Mason, and it took a moment for him to regroup.

“Things didn’t go too well with Daffodil McGregor, did they?” he asked with a slight grin, and Spencer huffed.

“I don’t know, man, at times she seemed to really enjoy dancing with me, but afterward it was like she didn’t even know I was there,” Spencer said.

“Pretty much like it’s always been, then?”

“Yeah, sorry again for saddling you with the other one.”

“Daisy,” Mason reminded, and Spencer nodded.

“Yes, her. I felt like a bit of an asshole when she overheard our conversation,” Spencer admitted, and Mason’s brow lifted.

“Only a bit? Spencer, the whole messed-up situation didn’t sit right with me from the beginning. She’s a nice lady; she didn’t deserve any of the shit we piled on her last night.”

“I said I was sorry,” Spencer grunted defensively, and Mason swallowed down a surge of irritation. His brother was a clueless idiot, but he was a hurting clueless idiot at the moment.