Page 11 of A Little More Hope

I glared hard at him, hoping to freeze him to stone, but only succeeded in making him chuckle even more. They had me backed into a corner. If I didn’t do as Sawyer had so succinctly put and stake my claim on Mason, the very concept sending a shiver of awareness down my spine, Flynn would be all over him like a rash. He was my friend, and I hadn’t seen him in four years, but I remembered how he acted in high school. The faintest whiff of a hot guy and he’d be off like a shot, and he always got him too. He may look sweet and innocent, but the boy was a man whore, plain and simple.

“Asshole.”

Sawyer placed his hands behind his head, linking his fingers. “Yep.”

“So what?” Flynn butted in, his gaze ping-ponging between us, eventually settling on me. “Do I have a shot or not?”

“Not,” I ground out, my answer getting me another chuckle from Sawyer, but I didn’t care. Mason wasn't some guy to mess around with. Whatever had happened to him had cut deep. He needed compassion, understanding, and as much as I wanted to rip his clothes off and get him naked, he needed me to be a friend much, much more. He was vulnerable and scared, and no way in hell would I let him get hurt any more than he’d already been.

“Shit,” Flynn grumbled, crossing his arms and flopping back in his seat, “I never get to have any fun.”

Cam laughed, long and loud. “The hell you don’t,” he scoffed, smacking him about the head. “Who was the guy you were getting cozy with down on the marina the other day?”

“How’d you—” Flynn stopped, clamping his mouth shut, scarlet filling his cheeks.

“Exactly,” Cam remarked smugly. “No fun, my ass.”

Smirking as the two of them bickered some more about Flynn’s hit rate, and Cam’s lack of, I finally relaxed. I’d arrived in town barely two days ago, and already I’d slotted into my old life like I’d never left. My friends were the same as they always were, treating me the same too, and never let me get away with any kind of crap.

Sawyer leaned in, his voice at my ear. “So, your next-door neighbor, huh?” He shook his head. “You work fast.”

“It’s not like that. He’s hurting, Saw. I’m not sure why, but he is, and I want to help him.” I took a sip of my beer and released a sigh. “He’s straight, of course. You can smell it a mile off. But he needs a friend, not a fuck, and I want to be one for him.”

He rolled his eyes at me. “You always were a softy.”

I snorted indignantly.

“It’s true. I remember when you were younger, you rounded up injured animals almost daily and tended to every single one of ’em.”

“Mason isn’t an animal,” I countered.

“No, he’s not.” He paused and then sighed. “But you’re gonna help him get better anyway, aren’t you?”

I huffed. “Yeah, yeah, I am.”

“Just do me a favor, okay?” His bright blue eyes locked on mine. “Protect yourself too, will you?”

I frowned at him.

“I remember how happy you’d be when the animal got better. More to the point, I also remember how upset you got when you released them, and they ran off into the forest.”

He’s right, I did. I’d often find squirrels, mice, wild rabbits, even a raccoon one time, injured by the side of the road. I’d wrap them up in whatever I had and take them home. Sort out a cage and bedding for them, making sure they had water and food. I’d check with the vet too if they were badly injured. When the time came to free them, I’d always get upset watching them scurry away. I meant nothing to them, after all. I’d grown up with the knowledge that people, my family, didn’t stick around. Not until Aunt Mary Ellen had come into my life. But the memories had stuck, nonetheless. I was always the one who got left behind. Always.

“I will,” I promised Sawyer.

He stared at me for the longest time. “Welcome home, Ash,” he said quietly, raising his beer.

*

The soft voice of a female singer floated to my ears, her mellow tones serenading me as I walked down the pathway running between my house and Mason’s. My pulse instantly picked up, a shiver of excitement sliding down my spine at him being awake this time of night. I generally preferred mornings, as they were so calm and peaceful when walking along the beach as the sun rose, getting time to be alone before the town woke up and intruded on the day.

Peering toward his deck, I noted Mason rested on one of the recliners, head back, eyes closed, hair gently tousled by the warm night breeze, half a glass of red wine dangling from his fingers. His muscular frame, clothed in a polo shirt and shorts, was leisurely stretched out. My gaze traveled hungrily down his body, noting more faded bruising on his arms and legs, and I again tried to figure out what on earth had happened to him. Perhaps he’d been in a car accident? Maybe that was the reason? Not wanting to dwell too much on Mason being in any type of pain, I continued my visual journey down to his bare feet. His toes, moving in time to the music, were so sexy my stomach clenched as hot desire rolled through me, making my heart beat harder behind my ribs.

Quashing my arousal, I tried reminding myself a friend is what he needs, not some guy leering at him, but damn, it was hard, and so was I beginning to be—and getting harder by the second.

His head turned toward me, and he opened his ice-blue eyes. I’d memorized the color this morning. “Hey, friend,” he welcomed me, his voice low and sleepy. The gruffness went straight to my cock, forcing me to bite back the groan forming in my throat.

I bet he sounded like this first thing in the morning. I shivered thinking about it. Fuck.

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