“Who are you?” the girl demanded.
“Who are you?”
Inexplicably, that made The Ex laugh. “You’ll find out.”
“Then I guess you’ll find out who I am too.”
“Oh, it doesn’t really matter. I know what you are.” If the disdain in her eyes as she looked Macy up and down could have wounded, she would’ve dropped dead on the spot. “You’re his fucking fantasy, see, and you’re everything I hate, so that makes you nothing but his revenge fuck. And not just revenge on me but on some other rich bitch who put him through the ringer a long time ago. Once he throws you away, he’ll be back where he knows he belongs.”
“Jesus. Don’t skip your next dose,” Macy muttered, pushing away from the door to resume her hunt for the bathroom. She found the door closed with a strip of light glowing at the bottom. Great. Add to that a sudden burst of commotion and the sight of The Ex bearing down on her in the hallway despite her friends’ restraining hands, and it was turning into a real shitty night.
This was what he was attracted to? Then what the hell was he doing with her?
It was all too ridiculous. She stood with her arms crossed and calmly watched the girl yell and sob while her friends tried to hustle her away, marveling there were people who still behaved that way over the age of twelve. Candace managed to sneak past the melee and came up to Macy’s side, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Are you okay?”
Macy nodded toward the closed door. “Just waiting for the bathroom.”
“Oh. Forget that. Here, I’ll show you where there’s another one. Get away from all this insanity.”
Focusing on her breathing and taking one step at a time, she followed Candace’s lead. Just because she didn’t shrink from confrontation didn’t necessarily mean she liked it. Especially when the other person looked ready to do physical damage to her. From behind her, she could hear Ghost join the fracas, telling the girl in a low, controlled tone to calm the fuck down. It apparently worked. She dissolved into sobs.
“What is that banshee’s name?”
Candace led her into what looked like the master bedroom. “Raina. I’ve only met her a couple of times myself. They broke up way before Brian and I got together. But she, ah, still has feelings for him, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“She comes to the parlor sometimes. Brian has made her leave before. I even tried to talk to her and pretty much got the same reaction you did since I’m only a stupid rich bitch too, and Brian really doesn’t give a shit about me and he’s only going to dump my ass so why should she listen to me, and blah, blah, blah. Ghost has changed his cell phone number because of her. Apparently, when they broke up, she made threats about killing herself.”
“Lovely. And you were knowingly plotting to put me in the middle of all this?”
“Just ignore it, Mace. Bad luck that she showed up here tonight. She doesn’t come around that much. It’s not a big deal.”
Macy raised her eyebrows as a fresh wave of shrieking burst from the hall outside. Ignore that? She sighed. “He comes with quite the baggage, doesn’t he?”
Chapter Nine
So, yeah, it was mostly his fault this had been delayed. But Ghost didn’t think they were ever going to get back to Macy’s apartment.
She’d made him proud tonight, though, and it had been worth it. “See? They’re not so bad.” He braked to turn in to her building’s parking lot and chuckled. “At least, not all of them.”
“No, not all of them.” A little movement out of his peripheral vision caught his eye, and he glanced down to see she had twisted her purse strap practically into knots.
“Hey, I’m sorry about that. I really didn’t think there’d be any danger of her being there tonight. I saw that a couple of her friends were there but ordinarily, that’s not her crowd.”
“Maybe her friends let her know you were there with someone.”
“That’s a possibility. You okay?”
“Yeah.” Her voice was bright. Too bright.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “But I do want you to know that I left the whole fighting-over-a-guy thing back in middle school.”
“Okay…”
“I don’t know what the deal is with that girl, but I don’t want any part of it.”
“There’s no deal with that girl.”
“Well, just so we’re clear. If that’s some ongoing off-and-on thing—”
“Hell no. It’s off. It’s been off.”
“—I don’t need the drama.”
“You think I do?” He pulled to a stop in the same space he’d taken earlier. “What, are you having second thoughts?”
“No, but frankly? I don’t see how you can go from that to…me.”
“Yeah, I’d love to get a look at whatever dude you hooked up with last too. See how we compare.” He gave her arm a nudge and grinned when her jaw snapped closed, but he knew it wouldn’t stay that way.
“But…well…it leads me to wonder if something she said might hold at least some merit.”
“What did she say?”
“Basically that I was a rich-bitch revenge fuck for you.”
He hoped she didn’t notice—or that she couldn’t see—the way those words made his jaw clench. Damn you, Raina. “Yeah, that sounds like something she would say. Don’t worry about it.”
“Well…am I? I just want to know what I’m getting myself into here. I don’t like surprises.”
He sat back and stared straight out the front of the windshield, sighing heavily. “Macy, I can tell you with absolute honesty that you are not a ‘revenge fuck’. I don’t screw people indiscriminately, so the very fact I’m here means I like you. Beyond that, I don’t know what to tell you. Am I going to put a ring on your finger any time soon? Hell no. But you strike me as the type who wouldn’t be looking for that from a guy like me, so it’s all good, right?”
She only lowered her head, watching her fingers toy with the purse strap, and something surged in his chest.
“Macy? Is that cool?” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wondered if it was cool with him. A minute ago “no strings” would have been music to his ears. But in that split second when he’d asked and she’d faltered…a world of dreams had exploded in his head, an entire universe of what ifs.
But whatever alternate universe had just infringed on their reality receded back into place, and she looked at him. “No strings, just fun?”
Now she made it sound so casual, too casual. There was nothing casual about the intensity of his want, his need, for her. Sitting in the dim light, she was stunning. Absolutely cover-girl gorgeous, and he knew in his heart this was another girl who could shred him all over again, really do a number on him. She could stamp her number right in the middle of his fucking forehead, and laugh about it.
Was he a fool of the biggest magnitude?
“Yeah.”
“Cool,” she said, sounding relieved. He was relieved by her relief. Whatever it took them to get out of his car and into her bed. Apparently his dick didn’t care how big a fool he was.
“Sit tight.” He felt her gaze on him as he jumped out and ran around to open her door, but hopefully she wasn’t watching so closely that she could tell it almost pained him to walk. Excited was an understatement. He was threatening to bust the fly on his jeans. It was almost embarrassing.
After she got out of his car, she took his hand. Something about the simultaneous simplicity and enormity of her supple fingers curling around his fucked him all up inside, made something wild and protective ignite inside him.
Trust. She trusted him. Everything about him and his world was the opposite to her and hers, but she was willing to take this crazy gamble on him.
“What is it?” she whispered when he’d only stood there staring down at her like a dope for the last ten seconds.
He snapped out of it and shook his head. “Nothing.”
“You can come in,” she said, as if afraid he thought he wasn’t welcome now or something. She dug in her purse with her other hand and came out with a jumble of keys. Together, they strolled toward her first-story apartment door.
For a second, he hoped things wouldn’t get weird. Then he bitched himself out for acting like a little girl.
Of course things were about to get weird. He lived for weird.
But nothing prepared him for the “weird” that greeted him when Macy flipped on a lamp inside her place.
Okay, in all fairness, this was Texas and the country-and-western décor was, if not the norm, then pretty damn acceptable. But not among anyone he associated with. Everywhere he looked was leather and brown-and-white cowhide patterns. And the trophies. Jesus. She had a special lighted display case for them. He knew she rode horses a lot, but she must have been competing since she could walk to accumulate all of those.
Rows of them. Trophies. Medals. Framed pictures of her holding them as a snaggle-toothed little girl, then a gangly teenager, finally the gorgeous woman he knew. An older couple beaming with pride flanked her in most of them. Parents, probably. She bore a striking resemblance to the woman.