Needing time to gather her emotions and her composure, Katrina sat down in the leather chair behind Mason’s desk. She honestly didn’t care who suspected that they’d just indulged in a little afternoon quickie, but she appreciated that Mason cared enough to make sure that she was okay.
So much had changed between the two of them in the three weeks since they’d returned from Vegas. They’d gone from best friends to lovers to something that was beginning to feel a lot more intimate and permanent. She finally felt like she was in a really good place with Mason, and she couldn’t be happier—even if there was a tiny part of her that was still guarded about their relationship.
It wasn’t as though Mason had done anything to make her feel insecure. No, it was her own stupid doubts and uncertainties that kept rearing their ugly head with questions she had no answers for. Like, would Mason get tired of her and realize he preferred being single because that’s all he’d ever known and she’d be left with a shattered heart? Or, was he ready for something more committed, like marriage, and then a family, or was that not even on his radar? And most importantly, was he capable of loving her as more than just an intimate friend?
She’d like to believe that was possible, that in time he’d realize she was a woman he could spend his life with. She didn’t doubt his sincerity in this relationship, and she knew that he cared deeply for her, but there were always those fears that kept her cautious with her heart, when she wanted so badly to tell him how she felt—that she’d loved him for years. Unsure of where he was emotionally, she wasn’t prepared to take that risk. Nor did she want to put him on the spot and force him to say something he wasn’t ready to admit or say back.
So, for now, she was trying to just enjoy the excitement of having Mason’s attention, of knowing that she was the woman he brought home every night and slept with. Even though she’d been in love with him for so long, she had to take into consideration that this whole relationship thing was new for Mason, and she needed to give everything time. She’d already seen a huge change in him in the past two weeks, and as much as she appreciated Blake Cavanaugh’s job offer, she’d given him a call and declined the position. He’d been disappointed, but let her know that if she ever changed her mind, the job offer would still stand.
Right now, she was content. Her issues about working at Inked, and looking for another job, had never been about wanting something more, but rather had been a result of her inner conflict with Mason and how difficult it had become to work around him day after day. But that was no longer a problem, and she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Figuring that enough time had passed that she could slip out of the office without all eyes on her, she headed back into the main area of the shop, all too aware of the fact that she had no panties on, and that they were still in Mason’s pocket. He was so bad, in the very best way, and she couldn’t deny that she liked him knowing and thinking about her being completely bare beneath the skirt. By the time they got to his place tonight, he’d undoubtedly be hot and bothered and would probably pin her against the nearest wall the moment they walked into his house.
She shivered at the delightful, sexy thought as she glanced over at Mason’s station. He was talking to a big, buff-looking guy with broad shoulders, tattooed arms, and sandy-blond hair that was cropped close along the sides—she couldn’t see the man’s face since he was turned away from her—but the happy, expressive look on Mason’s face and the occasional laugh she heard told Katrina that it was someone he knew.
Before Katrina reached the front counter to talk to Jasmine, Mason called out to get her attention. “Katrina, come on over here,” he said enthusiastically. “You’ll never guess who’s back in town.”
Curious to know who the person was that Mason was so excited about, she started toward his station. As she stepped into the cubicle, the man turned around, and when Katrina looked up at his face, she came to an abrupt, apprehensive stop a few feet away from him.
Everything inside of her flashed hot, then ice seemed to run through her veins as she met Connor Stevens’s cool gray eyes. The man who’d been one of Mason’s friends in high school. The guy who’d sexually assaulted her right before graduation, without remorse or guilt or an ounce of regret. No, instead, he’d called her a whore and a tramp, had told her she’d asked for it, then threatened her so she’d never tell a soul what had happened.
And she hadn’t. But now, after eight years of being gone, he was back, and she had to forcibly swallow the sick feeling rising in her throat as all those horrific memories came flooding back as she stared at him. He no longer looked like a teenage boy. After being in the military for years, he was built and muscular and, to her, intimidating in size, and the very thought made her feel as though she suddenly couldn’t breathe.
He gave her a friendly smile, and there was no trace of the cocky, younger version of Connor who’d been more of a delinquent than Mason had been. “Hey, Katrina,” he said amicably. “It’s great to see you again.”
She was so paralyzed by anxiety that she couldn’t speak or move, even when Connor closed the distance between them and hugged her as if nothing had ever happened. She flinched away from him and didn’t return the friendly embrace—she could barely stand to have him touch her without her having a full-blown panic attack. After a moment, he pulled away and stepped back, and if he’d noticed how stiff and unresponsive she’d been, his expression didn’t show it.
“Isn’t it great seeing Connor again?” Mason asked her, oblivious to the turmoil roiling inside of her. And why wouldn’t he be? Mason had no clue what his friend had done.
Katrina’s head swam and she felt light-headed. She couldn’t bring herself to answer Mason and say something that wasn’t true. All she knew was that she had to get away from Connor before her legs gave out on her and she either passed out or threw up. Hell, both were a very real possibility.
“I need to make a phone call to a client about a commissioned drawing,” she lied as she backed away.
“No problem,” Connor said easily as he leaned against the counter in Mason’s station and crossed his arms casually over his solid chest. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
Katrina managed, just barely, to suppress a full-body shudder. She hated the way that sounded, because she didn’t ever want to see him again, yet here he was. And for how long?
“Yeah, we’ll all have to get together again, like old times,” Mason suggested, clearly looking forward to hanging out with his old friend again.
Trying desperately to maintain her composure—because she refused to let Connor think he affected her in any way—Katrina walked back to the office while Mason and Connor resumed their conversation. She closed the door and sat back down on the chair behind the desk and took deep breaths to calm the anxiety trying to claw its way to the surface. Along with the shame and humiliation she’d thought she’d left behind. Obviously not.
Her stomach was in knots, and she couldn’t stop the awful memories of that night with Connor as they played in her mind like a horror movie. Fifteen minutes ago, she’d sat in this same chair and felt hopeful about her future. Now, she was filled with dread, because if this grown-up Connor was anything like the teenage boy he’d been, he had the ability to ruin her, and the power to destroy the fragile relationship she’d just begun with Mason.
She rubbed her sweaty palms down her skirt, trying to give the situation a positive spin, as she’d been taught to do by her therapist all those years ago. Katrina believed that people had the ability to change their behavior or actions if they truly wanted to—Mason was proof of that. Maybe after spending so many years in the military, Connor was now a changed man from the belligerent, hostile, arrogant kid he’d been. Maybe with all that rigid discipline, he’d become a better person.
It was a possibility, and Katrina hoped it was true. But unless Connor acknowledged what had happened between them, and apologized for what he’d done and she believed he was sincerely regretful, then there was absolutely no way she could be anywhere near him. The fear and anxiety inside of her was too real, and right now, she didn’t trust him any more than she had back in high school.
Once Katrina felt like she was back in control of her emotions, she retrieved the laptop she used for payroll and accounting and turned it on to get some work done in the safety of the office—where no one would bother her and she wouldn’t have to overhear or watch the bromance between Connor and Mason.
About an hour later, Mason walked into the office, his eyes bright and his expression cheerful. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk, clearly wanting to talk.
“Wasn’t it great seeing Connor again?” Mason asked, but thankfully didn’t wait for her answer, because obviously he was excited about seeing his old friend. “I can’t believe how long it’s been and now he’s back in town.”
“For how long?” Katrina asked, praying that it was a temporary stop for Connor and he’d be moving on soon.
“He was discharged from the military a few months ago and decided to move back to Chicago,” Mason said, and Katrina felt that pressure in her chest return. “He’s working at a friend’s motorcycle shop until he finds something more permanent, but as far as I know, he’s staying in the area.”
Katrina knew that Connor didn’t have any family, so yeah, he was probably getting in touch with old friends now that he was a civilian again. He’d been raised in foster homes most of his life, and the last she’d heard, right before he’d left for the Marines, was that the family he’d been with had been relieved to see him go because he’d been so much trouble. According to Mason at the time, Connor had gone into the service because it was either join the military and get a steady paycheck, or become homeless, since at eighteen he was an adult and no longer a ward of the state.
“He asked if I wanted to go hang out at Kincaid’s with him tonight,” Mason said. “Want to go with?”
She immediately shook her head. While she hated that Mason would be spending even more time with Connor, she wasn’t about to be one of those girlfriends who didn’t let her man have time with his guy friends. Nor did she want to explain her own aversion to being around Connor, because if Mason ever confronted him with the truth, Katrina already knew what Connor’s twisted version of events would be. And her biggest fear was that Mason would look at her differently, and treat her differently. Or worse, he’d believe Connor’s lies as her mother had believed her stepfather’s. And that would ultimately destroy her.
No, it was better all the way around if she just avoided anything that had to do with Connor, including hanging out with him in any way, shape, or form.
“I think I’ll pass,” she said as nicely as possible so Mason wouldn’t question her decision. “I have some errands I want to do after work and some things I need to get done at the apartment, so you go ahead.”
He tipped his head to the side, his eyes warm and caring. “I’ll see you later tonight, then? I’ll come over to your place afterward.”
She nodded. “Sure. That sounds good.”
But later that evening, the more Katrina thought about Mason spending time with Connor, then coming over and talking to her about Connor, she knew she wouldn’t be able to handle any part of that conversation.
So, instead she sent Mason a text. I have a headache and I’m going to bed early. I’ll see you in the morning.
A few minutes later, he replied. Are you sure? Do you need me to bring you anything? I can leave right now and be there in a few minutes.
Her throat closed up with a wave of emotion at how thoughtful Mason was being, that he was willing to leave the bar to be with her—she only had to say the words. But honestly, after the day she’d had, she just wanted to be alone tonight. I’m good. I promise.
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 behavior 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.
It took every ounce of willpower he possessed not to head over to her place tonight and confront her, because he’d learned over the years that Katrina was the kind of person who internalized things for a while. Sometimes longer than he was even aware of. And he was honestly afraid that if he pushed her too hard, too fast, too soon, she’d withdraw even further, to the point that it would do irreparable damage to their new and fragile relationship.
The thought of losing her, in any way, struck at the heart of his fears and insecurities, which made it difficult for him to give her the space that she seemed to need right now. As much as it killed him, he’d allow her the rest of the weekend alone, to hopefully come to the conclusion to trust him with whatever issue was driving this goddamn wedge between them.
But come Monday, they were going to talk and hash out the problem, whether she wanted to or not.
