Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

Eventually she came out of the bathroom. She was dressed—no more sexy, curvy ass on display, though it was burned into my memory now—and she still had my shirt on. She had no bra on, I knew. I had spent a lot of time with braless Evie, considering I’d just met her. I approved. Her tits were smoking hot under there.

“You answered my phone!” she said, her cheeks flushed.

I had. Why had I done that? Curiosity, maybe. Also, I had half hoped it was Bank Boy calling. “It was just your mom,” I said. “No big deal.”

“No big deal!” She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, and I realized she had her uptight expression back on, her jaw tight, her brows furrowed. That expression had disappeared right before the shots last night, and I didn’t like the fact that it was back. “My mother doesn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” I asked, pushing a piece of buttered toast across the counter at her. “That her grown up, single daughter might fuck a guy? It seems pretty understandable to me.”

“I did not fuck you,” she said.

“Believe me, I kno

w.”

“She thinks I’m bringing you to dinner on Sunday! I was supposed to bring Josh, and now somehow I’m bringing you!” She glanced away, panicked. “It’s fine,” she said. “I can control this. I’ll just make up an excuse.”

“Wait a minute.” I leaned a hip against the counter. “Why am I coming to dinner? You actually said yes?”

“No. I didn’t. I mean, I said—” She blew out a breath. “I didn’t say anything, and she just assumed you’re coming. That’s what she does.” Her gaze traveled down my bare chest, my stomach, and sort of froze there, distracted. Then she pulled herself together and dragged her gaze away. “It’s a bad idea, right? Like, really bad.”

“Yeah I’d fucking say so,” I said.

She pulled her gaze back up to my face. The corner of her mouth twitched. “Never been to a girl’s mom’s for dinner before, huh Nick?”

That was putting it mildly. I’d rather go to Guantanamo Bay. “No,” I said.

“Yeah. You’re right. I’ll just tell her you have leprosy. Or that you’re an astronaut, and you took a five-year mission to Mars. Otherwise she’ll bug me about you until Christmas.”

“Or just say Hey, Mom, I’m a grownup, none of your business,” I said. “What does it matter what she thinks?”

That just made Evie look panicked again. “What my mother thinks is important,” she said. “You don’t understand.”

She had sounded like a normal enough lady to me. But I knew nothing about having parents, since mine never talked to me if they could help it. “Never mind,” I said. “I’m not the guy to ask for advice. Do you have anything on your phone from Bank Boy?”

“No,” she said, taking a bite of toast. “Why?”

“That’s what last night was about, right?” I said. “Making him jealous? I think we did a pretty good job, considering we didn’t even make out.”

Her cheekbones flushed red again, and I knew she was remembering last night, just like I was. We’d put on a hell of a good show. We’d been close, flirty, intimate. It had been very relationship-y. I hadn’t thought it would be fun, but with Evie—especially drunk, relaxed Evie—it was easy. I knew that the Asshole News Network had been busily broadcasting everything to Gina. I already had six texts from her on my phone, but I didn’t tell Evie that.

“It was pretty good, I guess,” Evie allowed, swallowing her toast. “We really did toilet paper his place, didn’t we?”

“Your idea,” I pointed out.

She bit her lip. “And we let the air out of his tires, and I really did call him at three a.m. and make porn moans into his answering machine. Right?”

“Also your idea.” A pretty funny one, in my opinion.

“And now I have to work with him.”

“Not if you call in sick. Or quit.”

“I can’t do that. You don’t understand anything, do you?” She was probably right about that. I’d understood the girl who did shots and made porn moans into the phone, but I wasn’t sure I understood this version of Evie, wild-eyed and panicked like someone might brand an A on her forehead. “Right,” she said to herself. “I’ve got this under control. I really do.” She checked the clock on her phone. “Speaking of which, I’m almost late.”

“You can’t go to work yet,” I said. “I can see your boobs.”

“What?” She stared down at herself in alarm, as if she’d actually been topless this whole time and never noticed.