Page 53 of Boundaries

I could see behind his shoulder that Nixon was in the process of dismounting.

“And that’s where you’re wrong. I didn’t, we didn’t and it’s probably for the best, Amy. You don’t have to look so pissed. You were with me one hundred percent and you know it.”

Before I could stop myself, I had to ask the question that had been dying to push itself out there since he’d arrived.

Giving into that need to drill him, I said, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His thick brow threaded, and his eyes were glued to mine, “About what?”

I took a deep breath.

“About what happened at the beach, what we did? I thought you were going to tell Alex.”

He rolled his eyes, “I don’t kiss and tell, Amy. It’s not my style.”

“But you just did, in front of Nixon?”

“That’s different, he’s, my brother. I tell Nixon everything.” Great, and no doubt he’d love the next fucking instalment!

I digested his words, regretting that niggling desire to have brought that subject up when I had almost gone to the next step with him seconds ago.

In a sad voice, I said, “You don’t think much of me, do you?”

He closed his eyes in a God give me strength motion before his lip curled. “To be honest, I don’t think about you at all. Not usually. Maybe I’m going through an early mid-life crisis? Maybe we both are?”

“Mase, a hand please,” Nixon shouted, his voice booming with impatience.

My shoulders slumped and what I really wanted to ask died in my throat, “Look, whatever. I have nothing more to say to you. We’re done.”

He dashed a hand through his hair, “Fine, be like that. But we both know this isn’t over. Not really.”

I recalled his words by his truck that day. The ones I couldn’t decode and echoed.

“It never even started Mason,” I repeated his own comment back at him. Anger now boiled my blood again.

“Your strength is arousing Amy, but so is the thought of breaking you. You’d do well to remember that.”

“I’m not one of your fucking horses Mason,” I growled annoyed that his words made that place between my thighs sing.

Nixon shouted at Mason again for assistance and after a look that could have fused metal, he growled and went to help his brother with Tiny’s saddle.

I stood there leaning against the gate in my socks with my arms folded over my breasts. Watching them in brooding silence. Mason recovered well as he laughed and joked with his brother.

Before they left, Nixon said he’d put a deposit down and that he’d be back before the weekend to see Mr Lonsdale about a price.

As he spoke to me, he didn’t make any gibes of any kind and I wondered what he thought had just happened between his brother and I. Mason didn’t even look at me as they left and at that point, I had never felt more alone in my life.

I inhaled a shaky breath and after putting my wellies back on and retrieving my cap, I finished rubbing Tiny down and locked the horses in for the night.

Wishing for it to be true, I silently chanted my Mantra, I hate Mason, I hate Mason. It only made me feel worse.

I felt like he was punishing me in some way by having turned our relationship into something else. He was the one who started it when we were by his truck that day and then in the pub. I remembered his sex worker comment and how his eyes had roamed up and down my body.

Why was I suddenly allowing the guy to ruin my life? Yes, I had gone out of my way as a child to make his life a living hell, but shouldn’t that be left in the past? Surely, he should have been able to bury the hatchet by now, it was almost like he had some type of grown-up sexual vendetta. Unless he actually liked me?

Snorting to myself, I pushed that thought away. What was there to like when I was so prickly all the time?

As I walked home, I reminded myself of all the mean things we’d said to each other over the years.

---