Play - Scott Kylie - Страница 17
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“Hard not to think less of you there.”
“Why?”
Mal took a sip of coffee, eyeing me over the rim. “You like the douche. You like him a lot.”
I filled my mouth with food. Such a great excuse for not answering. If I chewed really slowly it could kill the entire conversation.
“Even with you giving me crazy eyes, I could tell,” he unfortunately continued. “You’re just lucky I’m not the jealous type.”
I choked down the mother load of food in my mouth. “Is that why you started up with the sex adventure stories?”
He laughed, low and mocking. But who he was laughing at exactly, I couldn’t tell.
“Mal?”
“He shows up here, fresh from a night out drinking and fucking, fully expecting to find you waiting with open arms … I didn’t like it.”
“We’re just friends.”
He looked away, licked his lips. “Anne.”
The disappointment in his voice stung. I wanted to make excuses. Roll out the old standards. I wanted to protect myself. But I didn’t even know what I was protecting myself from. Mal hadn’t attacked me. His quiet reproof slipped past my guard in a way Lauren’s lectures and demands never could.
“Thing is, you’re both straight,” he said. “Men and women as friends doesn’t really work. One person’s always into the other. Fact of life.”
“Yes, I like him,” I admitted. “I have for a while now. He, ah … he doesn’t see me that way.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. He sure as fuck didn’t like finding me here.” Mal set down his cup and leaned against the corner of the faded gray kitchen counter, arms braced on either side. His damp hair slid forward, shielding his face. “Were you planning on using me to make him jealous?”
“Manipulating him and being an asshat to you? No, I hadn’t planned on doing that. But thank you for asking.”
“No skin off my nose.” He shrugged. “And he’s a douche who deserves what he gets. Turning up here, acting like you owe him something.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “I’m sorry he was rude to you. I had a word with him. That won’t happen again.”
He snorted out a laugh. “You don’t have to protect me, Anne. I’m not that delicate.”
“Beside the point.” I took a sip of coffee.
“You know, I can live with you using me to get at him. Hell, we’re already using each other, right?”
Something in the way he said it stopped me. If only he wasn’t hiding behind his hair, I could see him better, gauge where this was going.
“No reason why we can’t milk this baby for all it’s worth,” he said.
“You’d do that for me?”
He half smiled. “If that’s what you want. Pushing asswipe’s buttons is too easy but I’m willing to make the effort. Hell, this body was born to make mortal men jealous.”
I smiled back at him, cautiously. Not committing to anything. This situation called for serious thought. The temptation to leap was huge.
“I do think he’s right about one thing. You can do better.” Green eyes stared me down. There was amusement there, as always. He seemed to be daring me, pushing me to see what happened. I really wanted to push back.
“But whatever,” he said, rolling his shoulders back in some sort of overdeveloped shrug. “Your call. After all, you’ve known this guy for how long?”
“Two years.”
“Two years you’ve been into him and never done a thing about it? You must have your reasons, right?”
“Right,” I said, sounding not the least bit believable.
He laughed and right then, I disliked him just a little. I’d never openly admitted my thing for Reece to anyone and here was Mal, ever so sweetly rubbing my face in it. Thing was, the status quo with Reece was infinitely preferable to anything I’d had since I was sixteen. If he settled down with someone else, my heart wouldn’t be broken. But who knew, we might get together one day.
Why act when doing so little was serving me so well?
The big blond guy mocked me with his eyes, smirk in place. He knew. I don’t know how he knew, but he definitely did. Man, I hated being a foregone conclusion, especially to him. Hated it with the passion of a thousand fiery hells.
“Alright,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
He stopped laughing.
“I’m serious. I want to make Reece jealous. If you’re still willing to help me, of course.”
“Said I would not a minute ago. Didn’t think you’d actually go for it, but …” He picked up his cup of coffee and drained it. “This should be interesting. Exactly how much do you know about being a heartbreaker?”
“I need to be a heartbreaker?” Across the other side of the living room, the bathroom door stood wide open. A wet towel sat forgotten in the middle of the floor. Mal’s boxer briefs lay abandoned alongside.
I needed to do some cleaning today.
“Problem?” he asked.
“No.”
Funny, when Skye had lived here, I’d usually wound up doing the bulk of the tidying for her too. It hadn’t occurred to me at the time. A leftover habit from running a household early, most likely.
“What is it, Anne?”
“Your towel and dirty clothes are on the bathroom floor.” I pointed to them, just in case he’d forgotten where the bathroom was.
“Random change of topic.” Mal sidled up next to me, standing closer than he needed to. “But you’re right. They are indeed decorating the floor and doing a lovely job too.”
He said no more.
The dirty laundry lay there, taunting me. And I’m pretty sure that Mal in his silence did the same. Either that or I was a neurotic mess. It was a close call.
“Whatcha gonna do about it, pumpkin?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“I really don’t like you calling me that.”
He made a dismissive noise in his throat.
I sighed. This was one war I’d likely never win. If taking over the care of a thirteen-year-old had taught me anything, it was to pick my battles.
“That’s not my problem,” I said.
“No?”
“You need to tidy up after yourself,” I said firmly.
“That a boundary I’m hearing there?”
I stood taller. “Yes, it is. I’m not your mommy. You need to pick up your shit, Mal.”
He grinned. “I’ll get right on that.”
“Thanks.” I smiled back at him, feeling lighter already. “What was that about being a heartbreaker?”
“You’re going to smash me in two, after showing the jerkwad what a momentous girlfriend you make, of course.”
I’d only ever been on the receiving end of heartbreak. But fuck that too. Bad habits could be broken. “I can do that.”
Mal looked away.
“I can.”
“Not doubting you, pumpkin. Not doubting you at all.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lauren barged in a bit before six in the evening. Or she tried to. The door rattled. Next came the swearing and banging.
“Anne! What’s wrong with your door?”
I undid the new sliding bolt and she thundered into the room.
“Your door’s broken,” she said, her brow creased.
“No, Mal had a new lock put on it. He was worried about security.”
A bald, muscular man had appeared after Mal disappeared off to band practice. Apparently, rock stars outsourced household chores to the head of their security team. This guy had the new sliding bolt installed in no time. He was eerily efficient and uberpolite. The whole experience had weirded me out a little.
“Hey, wow. You look great.” I said, taking in her slick dress and hairdo. A beautiful white orchid sat behind her ear. “What are you all dressed up for? Where are you off to?”
“What, this old thing?” She smoothed a hand over the slinky caramel-colored silk dress. “Thanks. And can I just take a moment to say, awesome job landing Malcolm Ericson. He probably doesn’t deserve you, but go you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“When he told me the story, I couldn’t believe it. Love at first sight. That’s beautiful.” Shit, her eyes actually misted up. “I think you’ll be wonderful together. And why aren’t you dressed, by the way?”
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