Page 4 of Boundaries

Mason had been under his Toyota pickup as I’d approached from the long driveway. To get to their house, you had to pass two large barns where Mr McKenna stored feed for his livestock. It was also the place where the workshop was located, and so any farming equipment that needed fixing was brought there for attention. Hence Mason’s current location. I’d once seen him bare-chested doing pull-ups off the door frame there. That would have been the first time I’d admitted that, whilst he may annoy the hell out of me; Mason was now an attractive man with a body made for sin. I remember that contraction of his biceps as he’d moved, the flat plane of his washboard stomach and the broad expanse of his chest. It was tongue-hanging-out stuff, but I’d soon managed to wind mine back in. His repugnant personality easily held me at bay from those types of thoughts.

And now here we were, stalemate as usual. As I’d spied his booted feet sticking out from under the vehicle, I’d almost turned and legged it, but he’d heard the crunch of gravel under my feet. Mason had dragged himself out from under there like he was suddenly under attack. And of course, he wasn’t, well, not today anyway. Today, I had just come to talk to Boyd.

After dusting off his jeans, he’d stalked around the side of the car, standing in front of the raised bonnet, doing that glaring thing he did so well. A look that must have taken years to master. Out of all his brothers, Mason was the proverbial beast of the threshold. The chances of me getting to see Boyd, had just dropped from slim to not happening.

At least he’d stopped what he was doing and had faced me. I usually had to have a conversation with the back of his fucking head. The guy was never still. Mason was a doer and was always tinkering with something. Today, it appeared to be his truck, a battered Toyota Tacoma. It was the same one he’d had years ago when I used to let his tyres down. Until he’d cottoned on that it was me. Ooh, how the shit had hit the fan.

“Did you hear what I said? Do one.” He adorned his comment with a jab of his thumb toward the main gates into his property.

Scrunching my nose, I crossed my arms over my chest and stared at him through squinted eyes. “That’s not very neighbourly,” I pointed out in a frosty tone, coming to a standstill in front of him. Not within touching distance though, that would be way too ballsy.

He quirked me a sardonic look.

“I wouldn’t say I ever feel neighbourly around you, Amy. Pissed off, mind-numbingly frustrated maybe. But neighbourly, nope,” he drawled out in a gruff voice. It was the type of sound that you could almost feel; like the pitch had the power to reach out and touch you. It could also tune into that frequency which communicated with one’s lady parts, apparently. Not that I knew that first-hand.

Built like a tank at well over six feet tall, with a bronzed body stacked with rock-hard muscle and a boy band-worthy face. Mason McKenna physically, was a gift to womankind. They regularly celebrated him in the village as being one of the hottest of the McKenna brothers and they were all pretty fit. He had one of those smiles that sat somewhere between a sneer and sexual suggestiveness. He probably could encourage a girl to drop her knickers by thought alone. Not mine, of course. Where Mason was concerned, my underwear was welded on. The guy was no doubt riddled, and I cared too much about personal hygiene to go there.

Yep, Mason was a looker all right, it was just a shame that the guy needed a massive personality transplant.

I stood there feeling defensive as his eyes roamed rudely over my body. “Nice outfit,” he sneered with a condescending edge. “What there is of it. I’m surprised Daddy let you out dressed like that.”

I dropped my arms and looked down at my clothes. The cheeky sod. I was wearing shorts and a top. It was summer for Christ’s sake. Annoyance coated my insides.

He cleared his throat. “You look like a sex worker.”

My gasp left my body like it was squeezed from me. “I do not look like a sex worker.”

He shrugged his huge shoulders, “I’m just saying, you’re asking for it dressed like that,” Mason stated confidently with a flick of his head.

“Asking for what?” I blasted back, feeling thoroughly offended.

“I don’t know. Being taken from behind, maybe?” Mason suggested, with an evocative quirk to his eyebrow.

This had become a regular thing over the last few weeks. Mason’s usual staid banter had turned more sexually suggestive, and I didn’t know why. What the heck had changed? He’d probably realised how taunts of that nature knocked me out of my comfort zone. Especially coming from him.

“You are such a disgusting pig.”

His lip curled in the semblance of a smile. “I try my best.” He was totally unperturbed. My mardy monitor kicked off like a Geiger counter.

I adopted my best snooty face. I had polished it to perfection over the years.

“It’s hot. I’m dressed for the weather. It’s a practical outfit,” I muttered in my defence.

Mason snorted. It wasn’t a pleasant sound. “It’s not fucking practical at all, having half your arse showing, and you don’t have a practical bone in your body, Amy.”

What the actual fuck. He hadn’t even seen my arse in my denim cut-offs. I hadn’t shown him my back. I’d been standing, facing him the entire time. It was probably all in his imagination, the dirty-minded sod.

Light danced in his eyes, and I could see he was messing with me. Irritating bastard. He knew exactly what buttons to press. I was very particular about my appearance. What can I say, I was eighteen and at that age when everything was about how you look. It also didn’t help that I had a sister who was much prettier than me.

Mason’s mouth was still moving, “Honestly, I’d go and change if I were you.”

Here we go again. I was so sick of sparring with this guy. It hadalwaysbeen this way, ever since we were children. Although without the recent sexual ingredient. That one was new.

“Well, you’re not me, so piss off,” I grunted.

“Witty comeback,” Mason deadpanned.

“Up yours. You know, the world wouldn’t end if you were to be nice to me for two minutes, Mason,” I replied, almost losing the will.

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