Sin In Blue Jeans Read online

  “Get lost, asshole.” The man spat, looking like he was ready to take on the entire bar to reclaim his money. Something that wasn’t acceptable in any form to Mason. “This is between me and her.”

  Mason glanced toward Ryleigh. He arched a brow her way as if to ask if he should butt out.

  She gave a subtle shake of her head. She was obviously willing to let him step in - before all hell broke loose. That was all the permission he needed to loosen the reins on his protective side.

  “Sorry, no can do.” He took two steps closer to Ryleigh - close enough to snag her wrist with his fingers. He needed to get her behind him in case this did go to hell in a handbasket. His not-so-gentle tug had her stumbling towards him in surprise. She landed with a soft thud against his side. “See, I don't like seeing my girl roughed up by anyone - besides me.”

  The fool got so red, Mason was surprised that his head didn't explode. “What self-respecting man lets his woman hustle another man?”

  Mason gave a drawn-out sigh, then stared down at Ryleigh, who had the audacity to blush. “Again, sweet pea?” He gave her bottom a soft swat as if he had every right to paddle her ass - when in reality he wanted to light her ass up for putting herself in harm's way. “How many times have I told you that hustling pool was gonna land your pretty neck in trouble?”

  She froze for a second before relaxing against him. Obviously, she’d decided to go along with his charade, because she gave a mock pout, pretending to be a chastised little girl. “Maybe once or twice.”

  He almost laughed at the little minx, blowing their cover. She was anything but innocent. “How much money did you swindle out of him?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn't count, Daddy.” She looked up at him. “It wasn't my idea to wager anything. He's the one who pushed me to put my money where my mouth was. I just wanted to play pool.”

  He almost crossed his eyes at her cutesy Daddy reference. The little minx didn’t know what she was baiting by acting in such a manner. “Sweet pea,” he warned. She was coming close to crossing the line with her little taunt. He'd show her what a Daddy did to misbehaving little girls if she didn't straighten up. “Give me the money.”

  “But....” Her protest fell on deaf ears.

  “But nothing.” He slid his hand into her back pocket looking for the money but came up empty handed except for a handful of soft ass. He couldn't resist giving it a squeeze before withdrawing his hand. “Where is it, Ryleigh?” He asked softly, urging her to comply with what he hoped was the easiest solution to the situation. Give the asshole back his money, and hopefully he'd leave - without Mason kicking his ass and ending up in jail for the night. He raised his voice loud enough for the idiot to hear him over the pounding music. “Don't make Daddy frisk you, sweet pea.”

  She looked like she wanted to take a bite out of him. But she reached between them to tug the cash out of her front pocket when he intercepted her fingers.

  “Let me.” He slowly slid his fingers inside, savoring the soft give under the denim as he gently tugged on the folded bills. A soft rumble slipped free of him when he finally freed the money. It was an impressive amount of cash. He was torn between laying into Ryleigh for her foolishness, and wanting to knock some sense into Larry's head. No wonder he's fucking pissed. She probably won his entire paycheck from him. Working in construction, he had run across several men who had bookies and couldn't resist the lure of the ponies. But to wager your check on a game of pool? Fucking ridiculous.

  “Let it go, Ryleigh. He isn't worth it.” He brushed the cash over her cheek. He kept his gaze locked on hers before extending his arm out to offer the money back to Larry. He refused to let her drop her eyes. He was hoping that the supposed intimacy of their current embrace would lure Larry into leaving well enough alone.

  “I...okay.” She breathed out, her chest rising softly under the soft cotton tank she wore.

  It was tempting to look, but Mason refused to give into temptation. He wasn't going down that road again. She wasn't for him, no matter how hard she made his cock, or how much she stirred the side of him that he thought was dead. However, that didn't mean he wasn't going to take advantage of the opportunity to feel her pressed up against him. He wrapped his free arm around her.

  “Dance with me, sweet pea.” He drew her even closer, slowly rocking her against him, in time to the song blasting through the speakers above their heads. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Larry still watching them before he said something about being pussy whipped to one of his buddies. As he disappeared into the back of the bar once more, Mason continued to hold tight, reluctant to let her go now that he had her in his arms again.

  “Mason...” the word came out a thready sigh. “...we shouldn't.” But even as she protested, she didn't pull away. Her body relaxed into his, her soft curves settling against the hard planes of his body.

  This probably isn't a good idea, but damned if I'm gonna walk away.

  He rubbed his palm slowly up and down her back as they swayed in time with the music. “Shhh, just go with it. A moment out of time, Ryleigh. That's all this is.” And all it can ever be, he reminded himself. He rested his chin against the top of her head, ignoring the throb of his dick against the fly of his jeans. It'd been forever since he'd held this woman in his arms - and just like before, it felt right - even as it stirred things better left alone.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  ”I still can't believe it.” Ryleigh pointlessly stirred the iced coffee in front of her. It'd been three days since the bar incident. And three very long nights where she'd tossed and turned because the unrelenting need Mason had stirred inside of her had refused to abate. All it took was seeing a hard hat, or a broad muscular form in jeans to stir the embers. She'd thought that it had been bad last time. But this time was worse - because he wasn't just a sexy ass in a pair of jeans that could scratch an itch. No, by playing a tarnished white knight to her slightly naughty princess, he'd stirred more than her libido. He'd tugged at the heart that she'd thought was packed away. This wasn't good.

  In fact, it was so unnerving that she'd called up Emily and offered to treat her bestie to one of their little forbidden treats: lunch at Bad Apple Café. Situated in the Tribeca area of New York City, the casual dining atmosphere drew both professionals and vacationers alike. The comfy couches, eclectic décor, kick ass muffins and pastries reminded many of a popular coffee shop on a well syndicated sit-com from the 90s. Either way the Bad Apple was her and Emily's favorite because it was a halfway point between their respective jobs and they offered a menu of ‘to die for’ sandwiches that they served with true NY deli style chips. A bit pricey but well worth it - at least in Ryleigh's opinion. Speaking of which, her tummy rumbled. “Damn, I hope they bring our food soon.” She toyed with the crumpled napkin next to her drink.

  “Patience, grasshopper.” Emily took a sip of her diet cola, before bringing the conversation back around to Ryleigh's previous statement. “So, what can't you believe?”

  “Mason.” Ryleigh pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “After giving back the money I won, we danced a couple of times, had a few more beers, then he walked me home, and left me at the door without even a kiss.”

  Emily pursed her lips. “Wait - the guy you've been lusting after like forever - played the nice guy?”

  Ryleigh nodded. “I asked him in for a drink, but he said maybe next time.” Ryleigh wadded up the napkin between her fingers. “I don't get it. Maybe it has to do with my family? I mean Uncle Danny tried to throw his ass in jail back in the day.”

  “But you stopped that.” Emily reminded her. Which was true. Ryleigh wasn't about to let her uncle harass a guy just because she'd had a few too many, and didn't have the common sense not to make out with him in a public alley.

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “Do you think he's holding that against me?”

  “Doubtful.” Emily smiled up as their waitress appeared next to their table.

  “More coffee?
” Lola asked.

  “No I’m good.” Emily replied before the woman headed back towards the kitchen. Turning her attention back to Ryleigh, she looked doubtful. “It's been over five years. That's a long damn time to hold a grudge.”

  “Do you forget who my mother is? It's been nearly thirty-five years and she's still not talking to her brother.”

  “Momma Fagin is a whole different story. She's a hotblooded second generation Sicilian. They make an art out of grudge-ry.”

  “Grudge-ry? Is that even a word?” Ryleigh couldn't help but chuckle. Emily was always coining new phrases.

  “It is now.” Emily fished a piece of ice out of her glass, crunching on it. “But back to the topic at hand. We're talking about a man here. Most men can't hold onto a grudge for more than a couple of minutes. All it takes is a pair of double Ds and a fat ass to make them forget why they were pissed to begin with.”

  Ryleigh rolled her eyes before tossing her napkin at her friend. “You're too much, girl.”

  “Here we go. A Rachel with extra slaw.” Lola appeared next to their table, then set down a plate with thick roasted turkey, coleslaw, swiss cheese, and thousand island dressing goodness between two perfectly toasted slices of good Jewish rye bread. A handful of her favorite sour cream and onion chips, along with a juicy kosher dill pickle made the platter.

  “Thanks, Lola.” Out of all the waitresses at the café, Lola was her favorite. The spunky redhead had been a permanent fixture as long as they'd been coming to the Bad Apple. Normally Ryleigh loved chatting with her. She had such a unique view on life - probably from dealing with all the different patrons that crossed the Bad Apple's threshold.

  “No problem sweetie.” She slid the other plate in front of Emily. “And your ham-salad croissant - hold the pickles.”

  “You're too good to me, Lola.” Emily grabbed one of her vinegar and oil chips. “I know you had to probably smack Louie upside the head to leave the pickle off.”

  “Naw, I just batted my eyes like this.” She made an exaggerated show of blinking her eyes at them.

  Ryleigh almost choked on her own chip. “And that worked?”

  Lola giggled. “Of course, it did. Louie is a sucker for little ole me.”

  “Not surprising.” Emily shook her head. “Maybe you should ask Lola here about your issue, Ryleigh. Since you won't take my word for it.”

  “Ask me what?” Lola leaned up against the edge of the booth, staring down at Ryleigh intently.

  “If men can hold grudges.” Emily picked up her croissant and took a huge bite out of it. She groaned around the food. “I told her that flashing a pair of tits or ass usually cures the issue - but Ms. Difficult here doesn't believe me.”

  Lola's eyes widened. One would think that she'd be used to Emily's off beat, sometimes trucker inspired mouth. “Well....I certainly can't disagree with Emily, but if your man is ticked. Give him a few days to get over it before waving your...assets in his face.”

  “So, give him a week on the outset - and all things should be good, right?” Emily mumbled around another chip.

  Ryleigh grabbed her sandwich, then took a big bite out of it. It was either stuffing her face or choking her bestie. She nearly moaned at the tart bite of coleslaw followed by the creamy texture of aioli and moist turkey. The crunch of the bread was just icing on the cake. Damn they made a good Rachel.

  “Yeah, a week is usually long enough for most guys in my experience.” Lola grinned. “I can usually wear them down by then.”

  Emily nodded as she reached for another chip. “So, what would you say the possibility of a guy holding a grudge for five years is?”

  “It'd have to be something pretty fucked up.” Lola tossed her auburn ponytail over her shoulder.”

  “Like nearly getting arrested for making out with one of the Fagin girls?”

  “Emily!” Ryleigh's face flushed as her eyes darted around the café, praying that no one else had overheard them.

  “Well, it's the truth.” She pointed her finger at Ryleigh. “Miss Innocent over here let a ‘fresh outta of jail’ con pin her against the wall outside of O’Malley’s. And Uncle Dearest caught them red-handed.” Emily shrugged. “I told her to get over it. He probably doesn't even remember the incident, but Ms. Overthinker here thinks that he's holding it against her cause he refused to come up for a drink last night.”

  Lola shook her head, then nudged Ryleigh over and plopped her butt down on the bench next to her. She blew out a steady stream of air. “So let me get this right: five years ago, you made out with a con and got caught by one of your uptight cop uncles, and now after all this time, you've hooked up again and he's acting like a gentleman, so you think he's avoiding you ‘cause of your uncle?”

  Ryleigh's ears burned with embarrassment. “Maybe?”

  “Let me ask you this: have you been seeing him on the side during the five years?”

  “Ms. Careful over there has barely scratched her itch once a blue moon since she got “Mason-fied.”

  Ryleigh wanted to crawl under the table. She loved Emily but, at the moment, she wanted nothing more than to duct tape her mouth shut. “Emily!”

  Her friend shrugged. “What? It's true. How many boyfriends, one-night stands, or hookups have you had since tall, dark, and studly nearly rocked your world?”

  That was it. She lashed out and kicked her friend under the table.

  “Ouch!” Emily glared at her as she reached down to rub the offended shin. “Why the hell did you do that?”

  “I didn't ask you to spill my love-life...”

  “You mean your lack of one.” Emily narrowed her eyes at Ryleigh. “And you can't deny that you've been waiting for him to walk back into your life. That's why you're so pissed he didn't even give you a kiss Friday night.”

  “Bitch.” Ryleigh spat. “Just because I don't make a habit of taking guys home, doesn't mean that I don't have a scorching sex life.”

  “With who? Bob?” Emily spat back. “You know that batteries only go so far, right?”

  “Whoa....ladies. Time out.” Lola made the classic time out signal with her hands. “Or neither of you are getting a piece of our Chocolate Decadence pie - no matter how much you plead.”

  Of course, that immediately got both her and Emily's attention. Bad Apples' Chocolate Decadence pie was to die for. In fact, it was local lore that it’s so-called creator had perfected his signature dessert in the kitchen at Bad Apples before heading west to Wine country. Whether it was true or not, didn't matter. Neither her or Emily were about to risk Lola's wrath and lose the chance to buy a piece of one of the most decadent desserts on Bad Apples' menu.

  “Do I have your attention now?” Lola asked, her arms folded across her chest.

  “Yeah.” Ryleigh took a sip of her iced coffee before snagging a couple chips off her plate.

  “Emily?” Lola cocked an eyebrow in her friend's direction.

  “Yeah, I get it. No more fighting or no chocolatey heaven for us.”

  Lola gave a short nod. “Now apologize. You two are best friends. I don't want to see you fighting.”

  Ryleigh almost rolled her eyes at Lola's mothering tone. “Alright.” She glared over her glass rim at Emily. “I'm sorry I called you a bitch.”

  “And I'm sorry I inferred that you only got orgasms from a dildo.” Emily looked down before muttering half under her breath. “Even if it is true.”

  “Emily.” Lola's warning had Emily straightening up in her chair. “Fine. I'm sorry. I won't mention Bob again.” She looked at Lola. “Happy?”

  “Yes.” Lola shook her head. “I swear sometimes you two are worse than teenagers.” She pivoted a bit to face Ryleigh. “Look. It's obvious this guy means something to you, right? He did something more than fill out a pair of jeans or cast his bedroom eyes on yours.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. He...” she tried to put into words exactly what it was exactly that Mason had done - that she couldn't have done herself. True, she could've handled Larry
long enough for the cops or the bar’s bouncers to escort him out. Was it the way he'd gone all protective on her? Or was it the clash of his rescue with the bad boy persona he wore like a second skin? It just wasn't one thing she could put her finger on. Finally, she caved under the combined weighted stare of the two women. “Hell, I don't know what it is exactly. All I know is that he turned me down, and it pisses me off.”

  “Why?” Lola asked, brushing her shoulder against Ryleigh's. “Is it because he was the one who got away?”

  “No, it's because she wants him worse than a Mets fan wants a dog with mustard and relish.” Emily chuckled. “And not to mention she's not used to a guy playing hard to get.”

  Ryleigh rolled her eyes at the sports analogy, while ignoring the other half of her friend's statement. It was true she wasn't used to getting turned down during the infrequent times she wanted sex, but that didn't mean she was a prima donna when it came to the opposite sex. “Traitor. Only wusses cheer for the Mets.”

  “Of course.” Emily giggled. “But I made you smile.”

  “That you did.” Ryleigh put her elbows on the table between them. “Look, let’s just forget about Sin in Blue Jeans for the moment. I don't know about you but I really could go for a piece of Chocolate Decadence.”

  Lola stirred next to her, then slipped free of the bench. “Two pieces of chocolatey goodness coming up.” She smiled down at Ryleigh. “And take it for what it's worth: why not just ask him straight out why he didn't take you up on your offer. What's the worst thing he's gonna say? That he's gay or doesn't find you attractive?”