Dirty Sexy Inked (Dirty Sexy 2)

It was a total lie. She was a wreck inside, and with Connor back, dredging up old memories, making them feel like current ones, she didn’t know how she’d ever be okay again.

* * *

Mason had no idea what was going on with Katrina, but their relationship had gone from an amazing high to an all-time low in a matter of days. From her spending every night at his house to her making excuses that she had things to do, she was tired, or she wasn’t feeling well and she wanted to sleep in her own bed.

The first few days, it was no big deal. But now it was Friday, the start of the weekend, and while he’d normally be doing something with Katrina, instead he was sitting at Kincaid’s nursing a beer and waiting for Connor to join him for a drink because she’d blown him off with the pretense that she needed to work on a commissioned design for a client. That might be true, but the fact that she’d insisted on staying home alone to do it was the frustrating part for Mason.

He could feel her withdrawing from him both emotionally and physically, isolating herself, and he was at a complete loss as to why. When he asked, she always assured him she was fine, but he’d been Katrina’s best friend long enough to know that she wasn’t being honest. Even the times he’d tried to give her a spontaneous hug or kiss, she’d stiffen against him. The whole situation was scaring the shit out of Mason because he didn’t know what was wrong, or what he’d done to make her so distant.

All he did know for certain was that something had to give, and soon.

“You ready to raise some hell tonight?” Connor asked as he finally arrived at Kincaid’s and slid onto a barstool next to Mason’s. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Just like old times?”

Mason glanced at the other man, welcoming the distraction from his troubling thoughts of Katrina, and forced a grin. “I haven’t raised hell in years.” At least not like they had back in high school, when his teenage b

ehavior had been fueled by anger, and his only goal had been to be as reckless and defiant as possible—just to piss off Clay, his teachers, and anyone else with authority.

“I think my wild days are pretty much behind me,” Mason added, and it honestly felt good to be in a stable place in his life to say that and believe it. Without a doubt, he knew Katrina had a huge part in taming that wild and careless man he’d been.

“Naw, I think I could coax it back out of you,” Connor said confidently, and waved Tara over, even though she was crazy busy with the Friday evening crowd.

When she arrived, Connor ordered two shots of cheap-grade tequila and downed both drinks as soon as Tara put the two glasses in front of him. “Getting wasted is a good start to the night,” he said with a smirk, and glanced around at all the customers in the place.

The tables were filled up, as was the dance floor. People were having a good time, and suddenly Mason wanted to be anywhere else, but he didn’t want to ditch his friend so soon after he’d arrived. It really was great seeing Connor again, and there was no doubt that the military had somewhat straightened him out. But over the past few days of Connor spontaneously stopping by the shop and meeting him at Kincaid’s after work to reestablish their friendship, Mason was aware that he was still arrogant and cocksure, and even a bit of a hothead.

Just last night, some guy at the bar had accidentally bumped into Connor, and it was like a switch had been flipped, and he didn’t hesitate to shove the other kid so hard that he’d landed on his ass. Even when the other guy had tried to apologize, Connor had gotten all up in his face, and Mason had had to step between them before he’d pummeled the customer for no good reason.

So, yeah, there were still traces of that volatile kid Connor had been. Mason would have thought that the military would have taught him how to curb those angry outbursts. And that’s exactly what they were—sudden explosive impulses that seemed to come out of nowhere, and then in the next moment, he was fine again.

A part of Mason felt bad for Connor, because he knew that the guy had no family, and he was trying to renew old friendships so he had people to hang out with. And from the few stories that Connor had shared with him about being in Iraq, there was no denying that he’d been through hell and was hopefully just trying to find his footing again, and those anger issues would lessen in time.

“So, I know someone who can get us into an underground fight club,” Connor said, bringing Mason’s attention back to his friend again. “You interested in going tonight and placing some bets?”

As a teenager, Mason would have totally been on board. Hell, he probably would have been the one to suggest the idea. Now? The thought of watching gratuitous violence held no appeal to him. “I’ll pass,” he said with a shake of his head. “It’s really not my thing.”

“We could always go score some blow,” Connor continued as he caught Tara’s attention again and indicated he wanted two more shots of the same tequila. “What’s a Friday night without a little nose candy?”

It had been years since Mason had touched the stuff. He had a good life now, a reputable business, and there was no way he’d jeopardize any of that for a quick high. “I’m not into that shit anymore.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Connor said, an edge of irritation in his voice that he washed down with both shots of liquor, one right after the other. “When did you get so damn boring? Is pussy still your thing? Because there’s a helluva lot of it right in front of both of us, and I wouldn’t mind taking advantage,” he said, indicating the women in the bar who would be easy conquests.

“Yeah, it’s still my thing,” Mason finally snapped back with a glare while trying hard to tamp down his annoyance at Connor’s persistence. “But I’m not interested in anyone but Katrina. I told you that she and I are seeing one another.” And despite whatever she was going through right now, his feelings for her weren’t going to change.

“She’ll never have to know,” Connor said with a careless shrug, his eyes a bit glassy as he grinned at Mason. “I won’t say a thing.”

“Not interested,” Mason said again, this time more succinctly.

“I get it,” Connor said after a moment, a smirk curving his lips. “Gotta say, she’s a hot piece of ass.”

Mason’s entire body tensed at Connor’s crude, disrespectful comment, and his hand balled into a tight fist on the surface of the bar. “Excuse me?” he said with more calm than he was feeling inside. The guy was damn lucky that Mason hadn’t clocked him in the face for his crass remark.

As if realizing he might have gone too far, Connor held up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation. “Jesus, that was a compliment. Relax, dude.”

“I don’t give a shit if it was a compliment,” Mason replied heatedly, and he also didn’t care if it was the alcohol in Connor’s system that was responsible for his unfiltered statement. “Don’t fucking talk about Katrina like that. Ever.”

There was a smug look in Connor’s gaze that unsettled Mason for a moment, and then it was gone. “I gotta piss,” the other man finally said to break up the tension swirling between them, then slid off the barstool and headed toward the restrooms.

Mason was grateful for the reprieve. He exhaled a harsh breath and scrubbed a hand down his face, knowing that the entire situation with Katrina had him on edge, which didn’t help his disposition with Connor tonight. And until they were resolved as a couple, he was going to be a gutted mess inside.