The Accidental Girlfriend Read online

  It fell over and mostly…rolled.

  “I think that bottle needs to lay off the liquor,” I whispered loudly.

  Mason laughed and shut the front door. “I think I need to make sure you don’t do that on the way to bed.”

  “Pish. I’m not that drunk. I’m just a little on the tip-side of tipsy.”

  He took the water with a smirk. “I tried to warn you about my family.”

  “I tried to say no,” I reminded him. “You’re the one who talked me into this nonsense.”

  “Ah, but you had such fun.”

  I stared flatly at him. “Don’t push it.”

  “There’s the Lauren I know. Am I getting fed to your white tigers now?”

  “You might have too much muscle on you. They might prefer Dr. Evil over a cut-price Thor.”

  “A cut-price Thor. You wound me.”

  “Not as much as my tigers will.”

  “You’re pretty confident in your ability to take over the world for a girl who’s the worse side of tipsy after three tequila shots.”

  I pulled a stool under me and sat back, almost missing it before I quickly righted myself. “Look, mister. The best plans are made while under the influence.”

  “Didn’t you put your ad online while drunk?”

  “I think you should go now.”

  He burst out laughing, a sound that warmed my belly in ways it shouldn’t have.

  No. Bad Lauren. I had no business crushing on this man. That was my boundary, the line that’d been drawn between us.

  No intimacy.

  No real feelings.

  No relationships.

  Neither of us wanted that. I needed to remind myself of those things.

  Mason Jackson wasn’t the kind of itch you scratched only once; he was the itch that kept coming back in the place you couldn’t reach.

  The last thing I needed was for that itch to embed itself into my heart.

  Wow. The tequila really was doing a number on me.

  I turned and opened the drawer, pulling out the bottle of aspirin. I tapped out two pills and tossed them back, swallowing them down with the water.

  That was how I knew I wasn’t totally drunk. I’d thank myself for this tomorrow.

  “You’ve gone quiet. Are you thinking?”

  I looked back at Mason. “Sorry. I thought I’d won that one.”

  He smirked. “You wish.”

  “Did you reply?”

  “If you didn’t hear me, I’m not saying it again.” He shrugged a shoulder.

  “So no,” I said simply. “And yes, I thought I’d thank myself for that aspirin tomorrow.”

  “Your mind must be a wonderful place.”

  “You have no idea.” I grinned. “So, what are the plans for Saturday?”

  Mason’s eyebrows shot up. “You still want to go?”

  “I don’t think I have a choice, but it’s nice of you to offer one anyway.”

  “The party starts at eight. They’re old, you know.”

  “Right. I think I can manage that. Weekend off and all that.”

  “I forgot.” He paused. “You sure you’re good to walk yourself down that hall?”

  I gave him a withering look. “Yes. I can manage, thank you, Prince Charming.”

  He held his hands up. “Just checking.”

  “Your chivalry is noted and appreciated. You’ll do well as the head of my knights.”

  “Now I’m the head of your knights?”

  “I’m still figuring it out. How are you with swinging long, deadly weapons around?”

  Mason said nothing. His tongue darted out and wet his bottom lip, but there was a flash of laughter in his eyes.

  “Um.” My cheeks burned. “I didn’t mean—I meant a sword. Maybe a lightsaber if I can convince Yoda to share the force.”

  Still silence.

  “Yep, you really should go now.” I got up and practically ran to the door.

  Mason turned and left his half-finished water on the island. His strides to me were long and purposeful, and he stopped when he was in the doorway. Spinning to me, he said, “I don’t think Yoda controls the force, but I’m not really up on Star Wars.”

  “Me either.” My mouth was dry.

  He was standing right in front of me. Everything I’d missed earlier tonight was now super in focus for me. From the blueness of his eyes to the fullness of his lips that were surrounded by super-spiky stubbles of beard; the white shirt that hugged every goddamn builder-built muscle of his upper body.

  I dropped my gaze for a second. “The last one I watched was the one with Jar Jar Binks. My dad bought me this little rubber Jar Jar whose tongue stuck out when you threw him at the wall and he just kind of hung there. One day his tongue broke, and I was devastated. But I had a Jar Jar toothbrush and everything. I really loved him. Not really sure why.”

  “What?”

  “Oh.” I focused on him and saw that he was looking at me with a mix of attraction and something darker—something that held a hint of sexiness. “It’s not important. I’m rambling.”

  “Right.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry. I should get going.”

  “Sure. Of course. You have to work tomorrow.” I gripped the door handle and leaned against the door. “Tonight was fun… In a weird kind of way.”

  “See if you feel that way tomorrow when the hangovers kicked in.”

  “I won’t be hungover from three tequila shots.” I snorted. “I’ll sleep in a little late at most.”

  “Right. Well, you text me in the morning and see how that’s working out for you.”

  “I’ll make sure I do.”

  “Good.” His lips curved up in an unfairly sexy way. “So…goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  What did I do now? Shut the door? Kiss his cheek? Wave? What was the polite thing to do?

  Good Lord, someone needed to write an article for Cosmo on fake relationship etiquette.

  Mason leaned down at the same time I leaned up. I aimed for his cheek but—

  Well.

  I missed.

  A lot.

  Instead of hitting the rough stubble of his left cheek, my lips brushed against his full, soft ones. Neither of us moved for what felt like for-freaking-ever—we just stood there, lips together, not touching anywhere else other than there.

  It was simultaneously the most awkward and best kiss I’d ever had. It was so painfully innocent, yet at the same time, tingles cascaded over my entire body, from the base of my neck and down my spine, over my arms and to the tips of my fingers where I was gripping the door.

  Gripping the door.

  Mason was leaving.

  And now my lips were on his.

  This had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

  I yanked myself back, drew in a sharp breath, and shoved at his chest. He stumbled backward just enough for me to slam my front door and flatten my back against it.

  Oh, my God.

  My heart was beating like mad, thundering against my ribs, and my entire body was tingling. Tequila and kissing was a dangerously heady mix, and I was right in the middle of that high right now.

  Except the high was mixed with the complete and utter embarrassment of accidentally kissing someone you swore you wouldn’t kiss—and by total accident.

  “Lauren?” Mason said from the other side of the door.

  I squealed. “What?”

  “I left my phone in your kitchen.”

  Shit.

  I pulled the door open, keeping myself flat against it and, incidentally, hidden behind it.

  “Got it.” His footsteps paused. “You want me to just walk out so you can slam the door again and pretend that just didn’t happen?”

  “Yep.”

  “You got it.” A few more seconds and then he said, “I’m outside. Go ahead.”

  I ran backward until the door clicked shut. “Thank you!”

  “Night, Lauren.”

  “Night, Mason.” I locked the door b
efore he could come in again and, after grabbing another water and my phone, ran to my room where I could put yet another barrier between us in the shape of my bedroom door.

  It didn’t matter that he was probably downstairs and out of the building, meaning he was nowhere near me right now.

  I couldn’t believe that had happened. That we’d accidentally kissed.

  This was why cheek-kissing was bad.

  It could go really, really wrong.

  And now it had.

  Because even as I stripped to my underwear and climbed into bed, pressing the covers against my mouth, all I could feel was the warmth of Mason’s lips against mine.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN – MASON

  Few things rattled me and got under my skin.

  Blood? Not at all. Gore? Not really. Women crying? That I struggled with, but I could cope. A little. I’d survived my sister going through puberty, after all.

  Accidentally kissing Lauren Green?

  That rattled me.

  It was fucking terrifying to think that was the truth. To think that this woman was getting under my skin.

  The thought that I was so shaken by a simple brush of her lips, an accidental touch, one that meant nothing at all, had me driven to distraction.

  I didn’t know what bothered me more: the fact that we’d kissed or the fact that it hadn’t been enough for me.

  Because it hadn’t. It simply fucking hadn’t. That one tiny touch had consumed me; it was making me obsess over and over what it’d be like to cup her neck with my hands and kiss her until she melted against me.

  Knowing that I couldn’t do just that made it worse. It made me want to kiss her more. Out of nowhere. Accidentally. Mid-laugh. Mid-sentence. The first time I saw her. Just before goodbye.

  Any one of those situations would work, but I couldn’t.

  It was off-limits.

  Intimacy was. She’d made it clear. I’d agreed. I respected her wishes on that, and I figured she was probably mortified at the fact she’d accidentally kissed me.

  She blushed at the slightest thing as it was—something like last night probably had her cheeks on fire all damn night.

  The thought of that made me snort. I didn’t care what she said. She looked fucking adorable when she blushed, and I wouldn’t change my mind no matter how many times she argued with me.

  There wasn’t long left of this charade. After the party tomorrow night, we only had two or three weeks left, and we didn’t even really have to see each other.

  It wouldn’t be hard to get through. All we had to do was keep our distance. I had a feeling that would be a lot harder for me than it was for Lauren. She was controlled, and I… was not.

  At all.

  I was definitely more of an impulsive person, which made it all the more impressive that I hadn’t grabbed her and kissed the fuck out of her last night. That was what I really wanted to do, and it was a damn good thing that we had today to not see each other at all.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I put down the sandwich I was halfway through unwrapping and pulled it out, brushing dust from my jeans.

  LAUREN: So… About last night.

  I grinned. I should have figured this would come sooner rather than later.

  MASON: What about it?

  Her response was immediate.

  LAUREN: It never happened.

  MASON: What never happened?

  LAUREN: You know.

  MASON: I definitely don’t.

  LAUREN: Don’t fuck with me, Mason.

  MASON: I’m not. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  LAUREN: The kiss, jerkface.

  I shook my head. She was usually as sharp as a knife, but fuck me dead, sometimes she wasn’t all there.

  MASON: I know what you’re talking about.

  LAUREN: Then why would you say you didn’t?!?!?!

  MASON: You said it never happened. I was playing along.

  LAUREN: Oh.

  LAUREN: Well, this is awkward.

  MASON: Not as awkward as what didn’t happen last night.

  LAUREN: True. Look, it was an accident. I went for your cheek.

  MASON: I know. Don’t sweat it. I’m not going to jump your bones because we both went for the cheek, Lauren. I’m capable of controlling myself.

  LAUREN: I never said you weren’t.

  MASON: If I weren’t able to control myself, I’d have fucked you ten times already.

  I tore a bite from my sandwich with a grin as time ticked by without a response from her. I couldn’t touch her, sure, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t screw with her a little. In fact, messing with her was becoming a favorite hobby of mine. One I’d miss when this little charade was all said and done.

  She was the easiest person to wind up—it was like hitting a light switch and boom, she was riled. And when she got like that, her eyes shone, and she turned into a little spitfire.

  Fuck.

  I had to stop thinking like that.

  How had I gone from being vehemently against a relationship to this? To thinking about Lauren this way?

  Thankfully, my phone buzzed again, which meant I didn’t have to think anymore about it.

  LAUREN: Is that really appropriate here? If you’re trying to rile me, it’s not working. All you’re doing is making this more awkward than it needs to be.

  MASON: You sound riled to me.

  LAUREN: I’ll rile my foot into your balls.

  MASON: Feisty.

  LAUREN: You’re insufferable. Don’t you have anything better to do?

  MASON: No. I’m on my lunch break. Don’t you? Or are you binge-watching on Netflix again?

  LAUREN: I don’t have to explain myself to you.

  MASON: You’re binge-watching Netflix.

  LAUREN: I was. But Henry’s sitting on my head and I can’t get the remote.

  MASON: You really need to do something about that cat.

  LAUREN: Absolutely not. He’s a great judge of character. The head-sitting is a thing.

  MASON: What does it mean?

  LAUREN: That he’s an unruly little fucking asshole.

  MASON: How does that play into him being a great judge of character?

  LAUREN: Omg can you stop dissecting everything I say? You’re a builder, not a psychologist. Go and fix it, Bob.

  MASON: Did you just use a Bob the Builder reference on me?

  LAUREN: Depends if you can fix it or not. Does your digger talk like Bob’s?

  MASON: I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. It’s impossible.

  LAUREN: That is the word on the street. For a difficult and impossible conversation, call Lauren Green.

  MASON: I’ll be sure to write that on the wall of the next public bathroom I use.

  LAUREN: Don’t forget my phone number.

  MASON: It’s already on the internet.

  LAUREN: I need a new number.

  MASON: Good. Get one in two weeks. That’s how we break up. You get a new number and ghost me.

  LAUREN: Done. Now go and build a wall or whatever it is you’re doing. I have to shower and go to work.

  MASON: How are you gonna do that with Henry on your head?

  LAUREN: He’s a cat. Say the word ‘shower,’ and it puts the fear of God in him.

  MASON: True enough.

  MASON: I have to get back to work. I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow. We’ve been roped into helping decorate the party room.

  LAUREN: As long as your Uncle Charlie doesn’t offer me another checkbook full of sexual favors, I’ll do it.

  MASON: Cannot guarantee, but Mom insisted, so sucks to be you.

  LAUREN: Yeah, but as my fake boyfriend, you get my complaining. Sucks to be YOU, actually.

  MASON: I didn’t think this through.

  LAUREN: :D :D :D :D :D

  ***

  I tugged on the collar of my shirt. The pristine white collar was stiff and uncomfortable, and there was no way I was going to last all night wearing this.

  T
his was why I didn’t wear the clothing my mother sent. Why I’d even thought this was a good idea was beyond me. There was no chance in hell I was going to keep this on a second longer than necessary.

  More to the point: I was twenty-eight. Why the fuck was my mother sending me shirts?

  I unbuttoned the shirt and tossed it over the back of the armchair. Two knocks at my door made me pause. I needed a shirt, but if my neighbor heard that knocking…

  “Two seconds!” I called, running for my bedroom.

  I pulled a white, short-sleeved shirt from my closet and shrugged it on, masterfully managing to button it halfway before I tugged the door open.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  Claudia shuffled from one side to the other, pushing her blonde hair behind her ear. “Can we talk?”

  “No,” I said firmly. “I’m on my way out.”

  “Please, Mason?” She wrapped some of her hair around her finger. “Just five minutes.”

  The lock clicked from across the hall, and I did the only thing I could—I let her in. “Five minutes. I have plans tonight.”

  “With your new girlfriend?”

  “What I do is none of your business. What do you want?”

  “I want to talk to you.”

  I buttoned the rest of my shirt and tucked it into my pants. “Talk, then.”

  “I messed up,” she said in a small voice. “I never should have cheated on you.”

  I stared at her flatly. “Try again.”

  “Mason, please!” She stepped forward, reaching for me, but I moved back out of her grasp. “You can’t tell me that woman is more important to you than I am.”