Page 43 of Boundaries

Dragging my eyes away from his body, which was a prime example of masculine perfection, I glanced around the room. My phone was on the side and I retrieved it. I had a quick search for the SD card Mason had confiscated the night of the fight, but couldn’t find anything.

After Mason grunted again, I left the room on tiptoes. I didn’t even have my shoes. I should probably have woken him, but the level of embarrassment I was reeling from was astronomical.

The décor of the house was traditional and farm-like, which was a surprise. I thought it would have been more contemporary due to it only being built a few years ago. The stairs were large and sweeping and I popped my head over the banister, praying for the coast to be clear. At least I knew I wouldn’t run into his parents, but it was his brothers that I was the most worried about. They’d probably thought I was there to steal stuff.

Each step seemed to screech under my weight, as if the house wanted me to be caught.

Spying the door, I sighed with relief. I was going to make it.

As my hand circled the knob, I pulled the heavy door back and almost made a clean escape; almost.

“What the fuck…” Boyd McKenna said and I turned and shot him a glare. He was standing by the door that must have led into their kitchen with a beer in his hand. I didn’t even know what time it was, but it was dark outside.

I shot from the house like a bullet from a gun. I didn’t stop running until I passed the meadow and splashed barefoot through the river, the stones biting into my feet. That half-erected fence looked sad now and I felt bad for damaging it.

I knew it had to be late but how long had I slept there, in Mason’s bed? As I rounded the corner, I could hear voices. The BBQ was still going on. Shit. A surge of adrenalin powered through me. I was surprised and annoyed that Mattie had gone ahead with the party, considering his betrayal!

Changing direction, I set off toward the back of the house. I needed to find my room without being seen half-naked, wearing what was obviously a man’s T-shirt.

I got to my room, locked the door, and slipped the tee over my head, throwing it into the corner at the far side of the room. The fact that I’d worn it was like some type of surrender.

And that so wasn’t the case. Mason may have been there when I needed him, but he was and would always be, my nemesis.

The attraction I felt for him could do one.

Eight

I assume you’ll want your clothes back was the text message I woke up to the next morning. That and several missed calls from Mattie. I also had a WhatsApp message from Alex saying sorry and that we needed to talk. Really?

Even though there was no caller ID on that first message, I knew it was from Mason. Great, now he had my contact details and could torture me from afar. He must have taken my number from my iPhone whilst I was unconscious in his bed last night. The sly fox. I reluctantly saved him into my contacts under ‘Dickhead’

I re-read his message. Why did he have to be so condescending, couldn’t he have just said, ‘How are you feeling,’ or something nice like that? Even by text message, the boy wound me up.

Chewing my lip, I thumbed in. Please burn them. I don’t ever want to be reminded of where I was last night. Ungrateful of me I know.

Mason’s reply shot straight back which was a surprise, usually, boys took forever to respond to texts, but not this one.

That’s not very nice, considering I saved your arse. Don’t you even want your Converse back?

Drat, I’d forgotten about my trainers. I decided against replying as he was right. He had looked after me. I was now indebted to him and I hated that. Maybe I could make him a cake or something and then call it even? I managed not to laugh at that thought. Me, in a kitchen, was never a good thing. I almost set the oven on fire once. Maybe if I was lucky, he’d choke on one of my burned signature black bits.

I suddenly regretted my ungracious reply. From what I could remember through the haze of last night, Mason had been attentive and thorough, to the point where I’d felt cared for, special almost. When I’d undressed, he had been a complete gentleman. I wished I could take the message back, but of course; he’d read it now.

To put things into perspective and stop me from feeling like an ungrateful cow, I reminded myself of what had happened at the beach, and how he’d treated me afterwards. That hadn’t been so nice.

I pushed the thought of Mason’s hands down my bikini bottoms aside. It was one of those memories that just kept circulating, topping up my shame, and now I’d slept with him. Well, sort of.

After I had showered and brushed my teeth, I pulled my hair into a ponytail. I then pulled on denim shorts and a pink T-shirt that said ‘You Wish’ on the front. After pushing my feet into my sliders, I set off for the kitchen. I was starving and needed food. Fortunately, my head didn’t feel too bad, but my skin was still bright pink.

As I entered the room, a huge hulk of a man stood by the sink with his back to me. His shoulder blades were flexing with what he was doing. Fucking Nixon McKenna! What the hell was he doing in my kitchen, tainting it with his man smell? Jenna was sitting at the kitchen table and had just finished breakfast. I felt shocked. Nixon could cook? Like me, Jenna couldn’t cook for shit. My sister glanced up at me with a smile. Not a shred of apology on her face after allowing her nightmare of a husband into our living space.

“Amy you’re very red,” she observed. No shit!

With sure feet, I walked into the room and dropped my phone onto the table with a clatter. The sound encouraged Nixon to turn around.

He really was a terrifying sight. Big, hard, and well-muscled, his arms covered with tattoos. He was wearing combat trousers and a black T-shirt, darkness encapsulated. My sweet Jenna sat at the table wearing a white dress, looking stunning as usual. She was pale, so feminine and soft; she almost didn’t belong in this century. Nixon and Jenna really were total opposites in every way.

“You should wear sun cream outside Amy, you look like shit,” Nixon commented with a flick of his head. I ignored him. Like I gave a crap what he thought.

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