Beautiful Crazy Part 12

"So you did bang her." Jax slowed and glared at him, veins bulging in his neck.

Mason threw his hands up in front of him. "None of your business, bro."

"It is my business, bro. Her koi wraps around her back and over her rib cage. No way you can see it with her clothes on. Motherf.u.c.ker, I should kick your a.s.s."

"She's a grown woman, Jax. And I'm pretty sure I've got at least twenty pounds on you, so relax."

"Like I couldn't kick your white-bread, beamer-driving a.s.s." Jax sneered and then laughed humorlessly. "I'll back off, for now. But if you hurt her, I will make you suffer." Then he turned and looked him in the eye as they approached their line of vehicles. "The last guy who messed with Kevan will never forget his f.u.c.kup. My upbringing affords some moral ambiguity. If you get my drift."

A wave of dark anger surged through Mason at the thought of another man hurting her, causing her pain. So unexpected. These odd, possessive feelings toward Kevan were frustrating and uncomfortable. He needed to get her out from under his skin.

"Point taken. She's not going to give me the chance, to be honest. I don't know what the f.u.c.k is up or down with that woman. But I have no intention of hurting her. I promise you."

"Make sure it stays that way."

As they cooled down and stretched, Mason's thoughts kept drifting back to Kevan.

While she might be inexperienced and a little naive, she was definitely creative and inspired. She was more about action and less about the hype and bulls.h.i.+t that tended to get attention in their industry. She would make an excellent employee. That is, if he got to keep his job. Too bad he wanted to screw her again so badly. Unfortunately, he had a strict no fraternization policy. Since he didn't date seriously, he couldn't have a string of one-night stands working for him, now could he? Too messy.

Mason didn't like messy. He liked neat and tidy. Kevan was as complex as they came. And the more he discovered, the messier she got. Jax's information was proof. It was probably best for him to keep his interest in her strictly horizontal. No, vertical. He'd like to take her up against the wall with her long legs wrapped around his hips. Oh, the dirty things he'd like to do to her. No. Maybe he should think about backing off a little. Yes, she was s.e.xy, and yes, he would love to get her back into bed. But Jax had had a point. And despite how obsessed he was with her body, he'd meant what he'd said to Jax. He didn't want to hurt her.

It was all becoming so much more complicated. And messy.

Outside the RV, he was in the middle of his final stretch when he heard a loud crash from inside the bus, followed by some m.u.f.fled yelling. He skipped the steps and burst into the RV, colliding with a sleepy-eyed Kevan.

"I seem to always be falling on you or cras.h.i.+ng into you." She lifted her hands from his damp chest.

"You okay? I heard a noise." His heart raced from his run and the sudden close contact with Kevan.

She laughed. "I'm fine. I was trying to make breakfast and dropped a plate." Her eyes suddenly turned gla.s.sy as she took in his sweaty T-s.h.i.+rt and the board shorts.

He peeled off the wet s.h.i.+rt and wiped his brow.

"I'm food," she mumbled.

Ha! She was frazzled. He couldn't resist taking advantage of her discomfort just a little. "You're food, Kevan? Like a tasty ripe strawberry?" he teased. She was fl.u.s.tered and distracted. Affected by him. He liked that. Oh yeah, he liked it a lot.

Shaking her head, she stepped back to the stove to stir something. "I'm making food. For you. For us. Remember, I said I would." Her words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush.

"Dammit. This is your fault." She pointed her now-blue fingernail at him.

How many times a day does she paint her nails?

He looked down at her bare, very s.e.xy feet. And toes? The purple polish on her toenails matched the outline of flowers tattooed on one of her feet.

Mason pursed his lips. "What's my fault?"

"You. That body. It's distracting. And turning me into a dork." She looked back toward the scrambled eggs on the small stove. "Go take those clothes off and take a shower. Oh, s.h.i.+t, that's not what I meant." He caught a glimpse of her flushed crimson neck when she moved to stir the eggs.

"Wouldn't you rather get creative with kitchen utensils?" He winked before she turned around to wash the dirty spatula.

"You're such a perv," she mumbled as he stepped up behind her, not touching, but desperately wanting to.

He bent over her and whispered, "What do you mean, darlin'?"

She spun and pinched her nose. "I mean, you stink. Go get cleaned up so I can feed you."

When he rubbed his slick chest up and down her arm, she feigned indifference and pushed him toward the bathroom, but her hand shook, and her breath hitched. "Gross. Just go, you dumb, sweaty man. Get cleaned up."

"Yes, ma'am. Sure you don't want to join me?" He lowered his voice to the level that always got her eyes a little hooded and her breath raspy.

"Don't try your magic Texan voodoo on me. Go."

He winked and followed her command, wondering how he could possibly last another week in such close quarters with her. Didn't his wicked little pinup know she was the one casting spells on him?

Chapter 12.

Mason couldn't concentrate. Actually, that was only partially true. For the first time in his professional life, he couldn't focus on work. Instead, he was hyperaware of Kevan as she sat across from him at the RV table. After breakfast, they spent their day typing on their laptops and occasionally stepping outside to use the phone. There was something about having her so close he found both rea.s.suring and unsettling. Her presence seemed to fill those empty s.p.a.ces he'd never noticed were there. The ones he'd filled with nonstop work and the occasional s.e.xual tryst.

That afternoon, when Kevan's phone starting playing Metallica's "One," she stared at it buzzing on the table and covered her mouth with her hand. She punched the answer b.u.t.ton and sucked in a deep breath. "Bo?"

Mason glanced up from his laptop when she sniffled. Watery tears filled her eyes, and she nodded her head in response to whatever her brother was saying.

She looked at Mason with a raised brow and pointed to the back room. Her smile was weak, hopeful, but hesitant. He smiled and mouthed "of course." When she ran back to the bedroom and shut the door, sealing herself away from him, a shard of sorrow unexpectedly ripped through him. If only he could be there for her.

He tried hard to give her the privacy she deserved, but caught bits and pieces of the conversation through the thin door. The RV was a pretty small living s.p.a.ce, after all.

After his conversation with Jax earlier that morning, and hearing a few things slung around backstage about Kevan's brother, Mason doubted Bowen's chances of getting and staying clean and sober. Over the years in this business, he'd seen a lot of talented people throw it all away when their addictions consumed them. He hoped for Kevan's sake that Bowen took his recovery seriously. She needed dependable people on her side, people she could count on. b.u.mmer it couldn't be him.

He forced the feeling away before it took seed in his conscience. No; he was here to do a job. He wasn't making promises he couldn't keep or falling for a woman who was wrong for him on every level. Nope. Not gonna happen. Sure, he'd like to get her back into bed, maybe even a few times, to get her out of his system. But long-term wasn't his thing, and Kevan deserved something real. She may play up the provocative vamp act, but Kevan had white picket fences and happily ever after written all over her.

Sign the band. Bang the girl. Get out of Dodge. No harm, no foul.

Kevan was still on the phone, listening intently, when she walked back into the room, and Mason was struck by his intense reaction to her. He suddenly realized cutting his losses and moving on was easier said than done. No makeup, and the girl was a stunner, all glorious curves and creamy pale skin with a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Had he ever spent this much time with a woman and still felt like it wasn't enough? No. Never.

Mason loved women, but he was a man focused on his career. With work overshadowing everything, he lost interest in relations.h.i.+ps quickly. And after bearing witness to the twenty-year civilized existence of his parents' cold, clinical marriage, he could never see himself settling for that type of business arrangement. So he was always up front and honest.

The more time he spent with Kevan, the more he felt compelled to peel back the layers of her quirky personality. f.u.c.k, peel back the layers of her crazy clothing. He wanted more. More of her. If someone had told him he'd feel this way after a onetime hookup, he would have laughed hysterically. Yes, she was a stunner, but he didn't have room in his life for a complicated woman like her.

Kevan walked back into the room as she ended her call. She stood in front of the window next to the built-in couch and stared out the window, lost in thought. He would have never chosen this near obsession with her. He must have snorted or laughed aloud, because her gaze snapped to his, and she looked at him strangely, with her eyes soft, her head c.o.c.ked to the side. He would always a.s.sociate that stance with Kevan. Even when this tour was over and they'd both moved on.

She tried to smile, but it looked more like a sad grimace.

"How's your brother?" he asked.

The smile spread on her beautiful face but didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, just peachy."

"Not very convincing. Tell me. I know he's a big part of your life, but what happened with him? Really? I hear he's a phenomenal artist and a great guitar player. Although, I guess he has a bit of a wild side. That's what they say anyway."

"Them. That amorphous blob of gossipers." She took two short steps, stationed herself against the kitchen counter, and toyed with her hair.

"No, it wasn't gossipy. People really like him. It sounds like he's going through a rough spot."

She snorted. "Yeah. A rough spot."

Kevan breathed in deeply. Maybe she was debating how much or what she could tell him. She could trust him. Didn't she know that? No, dips.h.i.+t, she didn't, considering they were going after the same goal. So, no, she couldn't trust him. But for some reason, he really wanted her trust.

"Tell me. I want to know you better," he said before he realized what he was saying.

"Oh, really," she said, dragging out her words in disbelief. "The only thing you need to know about me is I'm going to kick your a.s.s and send you home wiping tears from your face with your Hugo Boss tie."

Regret burned in his gut. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, would she ever lower her guard? "Tell me."

"No. G.o.d, you're the bossiest man I have ever met." She frowned. "I don't work for you."

Pus.h.i.+ng his laptop aside, he stood and grabbed her hand. It was small and soft in his much larger, rougher palm. When she pulled back slightly, he held firm. "Tell me."

She sighed so deep and long he could almost see the fight leave her, an unwelcome ghost that she nevertheless clung to out of habit.

"Bowen is awesome. After my mom died and my dad was anywhere but at home, my brother practically raised me. He sounded so much stronger, healthier on the phone, but addicts are natural liars. Fish swim. Addicts lie." She tried to hide the tears welling in her eyes again by pivoting toward the window, but it was too late. "I'm so afraid I've lost him this time. He's terrified he's like our dad. And I think he might be right." She turned back and glared like she expected him to agree or condemn her for her honesty.

He moved to the built-in couch and patted the seat next to him. When she sat, he covered her bare knee with his hand, the action meant to comfort, but instead it felt more intimate. She didn't respond, but she didn't pull away this time. He squeezed gently, the familiar zing traveling between their touching skin. Come back to me, Kevan. She faced him with a small, shy smile.

"Go on, darlin'."

"My dad turned into another person after my mom died. He was never superdad or anything, but after mom pa.s.sed away, he was always drunk or on pills. And he could get mean. Bowen tried to s.h.i.+eld me from my dad's toxic bitterness, but..." Her haunted gaze drifted back toward the window.

What she didn't say filled the RV with more truths than the few short words she had said aloud. Mason ground his teeth and felt like punching the wall. Knowing his rising anger would send her skittering away, he schooled his features and waited for her to continue.

As if in a trance, she said softly, "The anger wasn't as bad as the unpredictability. We never knew when he'd go off, or if he'd forget to leave money for food, or if he'd show up at school totally wasted. More than once he stole the money Bowen made cleaning up nights at the Tatuaggio."

Lost in the past, she didn't speak for a minute. He covered her hand with his and rubbed his thumb over her delicate bones, tracing each b.u.mp and fighting the urge to take her into his arms and wrap her in his warmth. If only he could go back in time and ease her suffering.

"His abuse was mostly verbal." She looked up and smiled weakly.

Mason tried not to hold his breath and asked, "Mostly?"

She nodded. "One time. About ten years ago. He was probably coming down, tearing up the house looking for booze money or a hidden stash. He started choking me, when Bowen came in and beat the s.h.i.+t out of him. Told him to never come back or he'd kill him. Haven't seen him since."

Motherf.u.c.ker.

"And now you're afraid your brother is turning into your dad?"

She shook her head and then nodded slightly. "He's so lost right now. When my dad left, Bowen promised me we'd always have each other. That he'd never leave me. He worked hard to take care of us. He sacrificed a lot, and now it's kind of taken its toll. He's had a drinking problem for a while, but the speed is new." She shrugged.

"Booze and speed? That's why he's in rehab? To straighten out and be there for you?"

"I guess. But it's h.e.l.la expensive. And he's having a hard time."

Cold fingers of dread wound around his heart, making it difficult to breathe. "Are you paying for Bowen's rehab?" he asked quietly.

"Yes. And the first full payment is due soon."

Mason sighed. It was getting worse and worse. He wondered if the reason Tina was her former a.s.sistant had anything to do with her money problems. On top of that, Kevan was struggling to help the one person she loved get well-and Mason knew he stood in her way.

Kevan smacked Mason's knee and jumped up before he could stop her withdrawal. She grabbed his hand to tug him after her. "Let's get the show on the road, Gloomy Gus. I've got to start getting ready. Need to look my best while I'm kicking your a.s.s and signing Manix Curse." She winked and started off toward the tiny closet pretending to be a bathroom.

"Hey, Bettie?" he called after her.

She turned, hip pushed out and her eyebrow c.o.c.ked.

"Go to dinner with me." So much for keeping his distance.

"Are you asking me out on a date?"

d.a.m.n, the warmth was creeping up his neck, again.

"Yes, I suppose I am." Her agreement meant everything.

"Like a date date?" She raised her eyebrows in confusion.

"Yep. Well, no. Just as colleagues." When her face dropped, he added, "Whatever you want it to be. No expectations, I promise." He placed his gla.s.ses on the table and scrubbed his hand down his face. Maybe it hadn't been such a great idea after all.

She looked at the ceiling of the bus and tapped her plump bottom lip. "I'm not saying no, but how would that work? I mean, we don't have an off night for a couple of days."

A warm glow filled his chest, feeling something like hope. "We have a night in San Francisco. We can go to dinner or go dancing or walk along Pier 39 and eat shrimp. Well?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

"Yeah? I'll take that maybe." And he smiled, even though he knew he was breaking every one of his d.a.m.n rules. And for once, he didn't really care, as he stood and stepped toward her with one long stride. Her eyes widened-either in fear or arousal-it didn't matter. Instead of giving in to his maddening desire to pick her up and drag her into the back room, he wrapped his hands around the sides of her face, cradling her head in his palms and caressing her jawline with his thumbs. Her clear blue eyes softened as he leaned forward and brushed his mouth across hers, sending s.h.i.+vers of arousal straight to his c.o.c.k.

Kevan's dilated pupils and breathy sigh betrayed her rigid stance. She was all in, just like he was. But he didn't want to scare her off-because he finally realized that's exactly what she was. Scared. He wanted only to give her a taste of what they'd been missing since that first night. So he kissed her lips fully and pulled free before pressing his mouth to the heated skin of her forehead.

"You are so beautiful," he said. Then with the strength of a circus strongman, he turned and walked into the back room, shut the door, and dropped his head forward with a thud against the hollow wood of the wall.

An hour later, Mason read emails while Kevan put the finis.h.i.+ng touches on the night's look, when his phone rang. Without looking up from his computer screen, he hit the speakerphone b.u.t.ton. "Dillon."

"This is Cora Taylor from h.e.l.lfire Energy Distribution, Mr. Dillon. I'm calling to confirm your meeting with Mr. Carver. He'd like to meet you at the armory back door at six." Mason glanced at his watch. He had ten minutes.