Part 14 (2/2)

It took all of Kevan's self-control to keep from looking for him again, to not dwell on the constant heat in his eyes and the s.e.xy glower she knew was on his face. ”He's watching me? How?”

”Like he wants to eat you up.” The two women dissolved into girlish giggles. Then Lynn's smile faded, and her brow furrowed as she leaned in close to Kevan. ”How's Bowen?”

Though they hadn't stayed together after Lynn had left Portland for college, Lynn and Bowen had stayed friends. Her brother was so charismatic it was difficult for anyone to dislike him for too long, even a jilted ex. Until he'd bottomed out, of course. Then it had been pretty easy to stay p.i.s.sed at him.

”He's okay. In rehab. Hopefully, it'll stick.” Kevan pasted on her best smile and tried to ignore the look of pity Lynn wore. Thankfully, that was a look Mason never gave her. But it was time to get to work, since the day was about the new homeowners and her band. Not rehas.h.i.+ng past tragedies or her f.u.c.kwit brother.

All around Kevan, volunteers were getting grouped into specific activities. One for painting walls and trim. Another for landscaping duty. Mason and Jax, along with blondie, appeared to be in charge of digging the hole for the mailbox. And when did those two become so chummy? The one thing missing was the reporters. Strange.

”Why don't we meet the family,” Lynn said as she grabbed her and dragged her over to the couple and their three kids.

After speaking with the family for a few minutes, Kevan called the rest of the group over and introduced them. The unbridled appreciation and excitement infected the band and the volunteers. These people deserved this home and were ready to get dirty to make it happen. Kevan checked the time, again. Anxiety chipped away at her cool demeanor. What if no one showed? What if Tina had given them the wrong location? This wasn't just about Manix. The family and Lynn's organization deserved the recognition. The more PR they received, the better the organization did. The better the organization did, the more people they could help.

After checking her voice mail, Kevan called Sindra and left her a message. A dense, uneasy sensation began to settle heavily in her belly. Where the h.e.l.l were the reporters? The heaviness began to grow as her phone rang. Kevan marched away from the group and answered her cell.

”Hey, it's Sin. Got your messages. I did follow up with the media outlets yesterday. What should I do now?” The usually soft, steady voice of her graphic artist was breathy and panicked.

Kevan let out an aggravated sigh. What the h.e.l.l was going on? Her pulse raced, and her temple began to throb. Pull it together. Act like a boss. ”Why don't you call the list of reporters again and find out why none of them are here? It's still early enough in the day that they could run a decent feature.”

The long pause on the other end of the phone was not a harbinger of good times. ”Yeah. I did call them before I called you back. They all said they'd gotten calls from some guy at Jolt cancelling the coverage for the build.”

Some guy? Who would do that? Why? ”Weird. Did you tell them it wasn't the case and ask to have new reporters sent?” Hope bobbed tentatively to the surface.

”They were all either rea.s.signed or not in. I'm really sorry, Kev.”

The dull throb in her temple increased its tempo, and an icy chill of dread began to descend. Shaking off her fear, she took a deep breath. ”It's not your fault. Thank you for everything. I really appreciate your hard work.”

Frustrated and more than a little dejected, she ended the call. What the h.e.l.l was going on? And who had pretended to be from Jolt and cancelled her story?

It was hard to hide her emotions; she'd always worn them on her sleeve. Though she avoided Mason, he watched her while she struggled to keep tears from overflowing. It was like he could see through her, right into her heart. Or maybe he knew exactly what was going on and was gauging her reaction. Shaking her head and pus.h.i.+ng away suspicion, Kevan tried to swallow her disappointment. She looked around, and everyone seemed busy and happy. Megadeth blared from a sound system the family had set up, and the entire group-family, volunteers, community members, metal band-was hard at work.

The band was there. The house was getting built. The family had become instant fans of Manix and bonded immediately. Unfortunately, somehow the media had been cancelled. And though it looked as if she'd lost this round in the compet.i.tion for Manix, there was still good work to be done. She looked down at the phone in her hand, and the answer hit her. She'd cover the build herself.

She started taking shots of the family and volunteers and sending them to the band's Instagram and Twitter accounts. Then she added some interview videos and posted them to Vine and Facebook. Because that's how she was. Hit over the head with disappointment after disappointment, Kevan continued to put one foot in front of the other and keep moving forward. Again and again, she adapted and overcame. She'd get the job done and figure out later who had sabotaged her event.

Eventually she tucked her phone away and picked up her hammer. She started pounding nails into her section of the framing, enjoying the freedom of just whacking something. Getting lost in the laborious work, she jumped when Mason's shadow fell across the plywood she was attaching to another board.

”What's up, Bettie?” he asked, the deep timbre of his voice dancing over her skin.

”Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over.” She smirked but checked her phone again by habit, sending another picture, this one of Conner and Marco lifting one of the walls into position.

He drew his knuckles up to her face and dragged them softly down her cheek. ”C'mon, darlin', what's going on? Maybe I can help.”

A s.h.i.+ver ran down her neck. Oh yeah. He could help all righty. She leaned into his hand before remembering she was in public at a charity event. And not his frigging s.e.x toy. He was on the enemy. Abruptly, she pulled away.

”I doubt it,” she said, wondering again if he'd had anything to do with the missing media. He certainly had motive. ”And what makes you think anything's wrong?”

”You keep looking around for something. And you've been on and off your phone all morning. What's up?” His sincere smile was not what she needed right now. Or ever. If she didn't grow some courage, she was going to lose this battle.

”I'm fine.” She swung her hammer high, struck the nail, and pounded it into the plywood.

”Why won't you let me help you?” He frowned. But he already knew the answer. She could see it in his eyes, reflecting back like a mirror.

She tossed the hammer to the side of a stack of wood and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. ”You're the compet.i.tion. You want what I need. Your success is my downfall. Get it?” Stupid man.

Mason scowled, a tick in his jaw pulsing, and leaned in. He was so close, his warm breath vibrated on her cheek. ”Jesus. You think I'm such a heartless d.i.c.k I'd screw you silly and then throw you under the bus at every opportunity?” When she didn't answer, he said, ”I guess you f.u.c.king do.”

He glared at her for a moment before he shook his head and stomped off. Kevan stared at his retreating back, wondering if he was the culprit or if she was just too jaded to let anyone close.

Mason half listened to the tall, willowy blond giggling about the hammer and nail she was slamming into a wood block. He smiled at her. Why would she volunteer to build a home if she didn't know the difference between a hammer and a saw? So not like Kevan, who was hammering away with a look of raw determination on her beautiful face, completely oblivious to the ogling of every male on the work site, including the group of gym-rat volunteers. Not that he gave a s.h.i.+t. She'd made it clear-he was good enough to screw, but she refused to trust him.

And while Kelli was very attractive and not unlike the women he'd dated in the past, Mason's gaze kept drifting to one curvy brunette with blue streaks and gray eyes, and the most squeezable a.s.s in the history of round, squeezable a.s.ses. The sordid things he wanted to do to that perfect a.s.s. f.u.c.k. She'd ruined him. No other woman even compared to her suns.h.i.+ne and f.u.c.king light. No other woman could spin on a dime so quickly and go from angel to devil either.

Mason decided to pull his head out of his own b.u.t.t, engage Kelli with an ”i,” and put on his CEO charm. He was, after all, on this tour for a reason-to save his d.a.m.n job and get back to normal. Normal. He rolled the word around in his head.

”What's normal?” she asked, and he realized he must have muttered it aloud.

”Exactly,” he mumbled. And when she looked up at him with a quizzical expression, he smiled. ”Never mind, hon.”

Really, though? What is normal anymore? Kevan had f.u.c.ked up his whole reality as well as his vocabulary. Normal-nothing was normal post-Kevan Landry. Nothing. What did he want then, besides her back in his bed? Nothing. Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that. Maybe Dan was right. Maybe he did want more with her.

Looking around, he suddenly realized why Kevan was so upset and had gone on the attack earlier. The media hadn't shown up. Why weren't they here, and why did he have more sympathy for her than he felt success for himself?

The rest of the afternoon, she did her best to avoid Mason. She even bolted up the RV's steps and vanished into the back for her pre-show routine. Like magic, she transformed into a bizarre, whirling dervish of swirly skirts, stockings, powders, hair spray, and makeup.

Usually, Mason was fascinated by her dressing-up ritual. Loved watching the process of her going from fresh-faced punky girl next door to vampy, vixen queen of the night. Not tonight. Tonight he needed to know what had changed that morning. They'd made so much progress the night before, when she'd opened up to him about her brother. When she'd let him stroke her cheeks and kiss her gently. And then later, when she'd let him make love to her. And then she ran. Now, she couldn't stand to be near him. Did she blame him for the lack of media at the build? f.u.c.k that.

Mason let her flutter around the RV from bathroom to bedroom to her curtained bunk and back through a cloud of cursing and powder, accentuated with cupboards slamming and frustrated growls. He figured it was best to let her complete her rituals, slam stuff around, and have her temper tantrum before he confronted her. When she finally came to rest thirty minutes before they needed to get into the club, she slowed and turned to him.

”I'm gonna go a little bit early and see...”

Patience was overrated. He walked within inches of her and looked down, forcing her to look up and make eye contact with him. Her scent surrounded him, her usual vanilla accompanied with the simple smell of roses.

”What the f.u.c.k, Mason,” she muttered. He grabbed her chin and rubbed his thumb back and forth over her glossy bottom lip, staring into her eyes.

”Shhhh,” he murmured. Her chest heaved up and down rapidly, then slowed as she took a deep breath. They stood there like that for several seconds.

Mason wrapped his arms around her and pulled her pliant body up against his. Her head pressed against his chest. One hand rubbed lengthwise up and down her back, feeling her rigid muscles soften and relax under his fingers. When she sighed, he felt so triumphant he expected doves and b.u.t.terflies to fill the RV at any moment. He wanted to push her but knew he had to wait. He continued to soothe her with his body and kissed the top of her head.

That woman is under your skin. Dan's words ran through his head. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l, she was getting to him.

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