Freefall (The Indigo Lounge Series, #5) Read Free Page A

doesn’t work for me.” There’s a hard command in his voice that impresses the seriousness of his dislike for the nickname.
    “Okay, Mason. If you knew me better, you’d know I’d never do that to Beth, and especially not by drowning myself. She...she has a history with water...” I stop, knowing I was verging on being indiscreet about my best friend’s past.
    “I know,” Mason says.
    I turn my head, meet his eyes. “You know?”
    He nods. “Zach asked for my help last year in how to assist Bethany to tackle her fear of water.”
    My eyes widen. “Are you some sort of doctor?”
    His eyes gleam again, and he sluices the water from his face and beard. “I’m a lot of things. Are you warm enough?” he asks.
    I nod absently, and he reaches out to shut off the water. There are stacks of towels on a shelf next to the shower. He grabs two and hands me one. I quickly mop up the water in my hair and slide the towel over my wet clothes. But it’s no use. I’m still dripping and getting chillier by the second.
    He grabs two more and tugs one around my shoulders. “Let’s get you changed before you catch pneumonia.”
    He steps back and indicates the house.
    Still reeling from the fact that he knows about Bethany’s near drowning and the fear she’s had of water since then, I start walking before I realize that he’s still commanding and I’m obeying.
    We reach the steps leading to the house, and I stop.
    “What?”
    “My room is upstairs.” There are only two ways to get to my room—the kitchen and the front entrance. Both will be filled with guests, and I don’t want anyone to see me like this. Like Mason, I don’t want anything to ruin Bethany and Zach’s night.
    “Come on, I’m staying in the pool house. You can use my bathroom,” Mason says.
    I hesitate. Because, hello , I’m from Brooklyn. Only stupid-ass women in B movies accept invitations like these. “No, thanks.”
    He inhales. “If I wanted to harm you, I’d have done it on the beach, where I was less likely to be discovered.”
    “Maybe you like toying with your victims first,” I challenge.
    “You see yourself as a victim?” he asks with a touch of amusement.
    “Only one way to find out. Try something,” I dare him.
    He tunnels his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “This is why I hate these things,” he mutters beneath his breath. There’s a genuine bitterness in his tone that fans my interest higher.
    “What things?” I ask, in spite of myself.
    He shakes his head and starts to walk up the steps. “I’m sure you know where the pool house is. If you’re interested in getting out of those wet clothes, feel free to come inside. If not, it’s been...interesting meeting you.” He walks off and leaves me standing in the sand.
    I swear I’m not going to follow him. That I’ll find a way to sneak inside the house and go up to my room without alerting anyone to my wet, disheveled state, or the frightening turmoil in my soul.
    But then I look up and see Bethany and Zach standing at the kitchen window, their eyes devouring each other, the sheer depth of their love a living thing I can almost reach out and touch. And I know I can’t wreck their night with even a hint of my own personal drama.
    For one thing, I suspect Bethany already knows there’s something up with me. She just hasn’t had the time to tackle me about it because she’s been busy getting things ready for the party. If I show even the smallest hint of distress, she’ll be on me in a flash. I can’t let that happen. My emotions are too close to the surface for me to hide them adequately enough to fool her.
    So, I retrieve my shoes from the steps and trudge after Mason Sinclair.
    I reach the pool house door and knock. He doesn’t answer for several minutes. I curse under my breath and start to turn away.
    The door opens, and he fills the space. Larger than life and wearing only a pair of boxer briefs. In the brighter light I see that his hair is a