Doomed for Eternal Embarrassment
1201 Words
“Oh my god! Aria I am so sorry! Are you okay?” My eyes widen taking her in. Tara’s arms are full of paper bags that are clearly from a liquor store. Did she bring the whole bar?
She doesn’t wait for me to move out of the way or invite her in. She shoves herself past me before I can even think to warn her about Mason. “Woah.” She gasps, halting in the threshold of the kitchen.
“I’m fine, Josh called hired me back! He watched the security cameras, says you can see Claire tripping me. He doesn’t want any problems so I’ll be there Monday morning!” I figure if both of them can pretend like I don’t have a voice or an opinion on who can be in my home or not I don’t bother with the introduction of the questions that are spoken but clear across Tara’s face.
Moving past Mason she sets the bags on the counter before she starts unloading the bottles, lining them up so we can read each label. “Josh gave you your job back?”
“Yup said Lauren, and Claire isn’t allowed back anymore. He doesn’t want a lawsuit on his hands if they try something like this again.” I smirk at Mason, hoping his grimace means my declaration will give him at the very least a minor headache.
Finally, a small win for me.
“No more Lauren? Did you get your job back? And you’re baking? This is not how I saw this night playing out!” I laugh moving back to the sink so I can wash my hands again and get back to the peaches.
“How about I bring you some leftover cookies and Mousse tomorrow after I drop these off at the Soup Kitchen. I don’t feel like company tonight and I have a lot of work to do.”
“Umm, I’m sorry but if you think I’m going to walk away from any of your desserts you clearly need to get to know me better.” She says with a laugh. “Plus, I bought like $100 in Vodka and Whiskey and ordered a pizza.
“There’ll even be enough for Maverick. Which I’m still curious as to why there’s a sexy billionaire in your kitchen?” Tara doesn’t have a filter, she’s entertaining in her effortless authenticity. Her words are rushed and playful but they make my cheeks redden.
I avoid looking at Mason as I try to follow along with her rushed speech. “Is it the desserts or her constant determination to push you away that got you? It’s definitely the desserts for me!” Her words spew out of her mouth like vomit as she searches for cups in random cupboards instead of asking.
“I haven’t had the pleasure of any of her baked goods just yet. Pizza sounds great, I’m starving, my late lunch ended up on my lap.” I throw a slice of peach at his stupidly smug smile, it slides down his cheek, through his brittle stubble.
Chuckling I grab another peach, my knife sliding through the skin a tad slower. Obviously, there is here to stay, maybe it won’t be too bad.
Curiously I’m glad they aren’t leaving. I’m glad Tara is here to break up some of the tension between Mason and me, maybe providing some opportunity to get to know him better.
I don’t want to get to know him better.
Do I?
***
My alarm woke me at 6:30 AM, too early after last night. Tara and Mason stayed well past midnight, no matter how much I protested they stayed. I had an early morning but after my third glass of Vodka and water, it didn’t seem to matter so much.
We ate pizza, followed by some delicious Peach Mousse Trifle, Mason was practically moaning the whole time, I had to excuse myself before I had an ultra embarrassing orgasm then and there.
After they helped me make endless Candy Cookies, way more than we needed. I did different batches, with slight variations on the ingredients, more M&M’s in some, less brown sugar in others. They even helped package them up for the Soup Kitchen this morning.
I can admit to myself, having them here helped a lot. It was annoyingly fun. That’s what scares me. None of this is a part of my plan.
By the time they left we were all pretty drunk, the bottles all having a good dent in them.
We played cards, had some great conversations, somehow managing to avoid all talk I deemed too personal. And I laughed more than I have in a really, really long time.
I felt so good, so comfortable that I lost my already weak will and gave into Mason’s suggestive touches.
Leaning into his side a few times, or the side of his leg while he ran his fingers through my thick waves. None of which went without Tara’s notice. Her eyes were burning with questions I was surprised she didn’t ask the both of us while she had us cornered together.
Like a ghost haunting me, or a vampire stalking its prey he’s here waiting next to a different expensive-looking car than the one we drove in yesterday. I spot him almost as soon as I walk out the foyer doors into the parking lot, my hands full of boxes with delicate cookies inside.
“Mason, I hope you have some kind of business to attend to and that’s why you’re here.”
“Sure. How are you feeling this morning?” I walk past him and his car looking for my own ignoring his question. He should attend to his business and forget last night ever happened.
“You’ve got to be kidding me! Move!” The cocky bastard parked his car right in front of mine, blocking me into my spot.
“Here you can put them in the back.” He pops the trunk of his fancy car, looking at me in waiting. He’s so assured of himself, just showing up, blocking me in, assuming I’ll just do as I’m told.
“Get to your business but first get out of my way,” I growl, really, really not in the mood for this. I don’t drink often; I definitely don’t drink like I did last night. Regardless of the water, he made me drink before he’d leave my head hurts and my eyes are still heavy.
“My business involves helping in the transport of a beautiful woman and her out-of-this-world cookies.”
“That girl doesn’t need nor want your help.” I want to stomp my feet. Truth be told I don’t wake up well. Mornings aren’t my thing but the additional hangover and now this has me seeing red.
He gets closer. Grabbing for the boxes.
I glare. Jerking them back into me.
He smirks. Grabbing them out of my grip with ease.
I stomp my foot in irritation. Coming to the conclusion that I will never ever get my way when Mason Maverick sets his mind to anything.
He’s trouble. I’m in trouble.
- Writer
