Beneath the Surface by Emily McIntire
Mason
Iwatch Lily leave just as a plate filled with steak fries and a turkey club is plopped down in front of me. I wasn’t planning on eating here, but this new waitress, Annabelle,is persistent and I can’t survive solely on black coffee and the craving for nicotine running through my veins.
The toothpicks are my half-assed attempt to curb the habit, but I’ll be honest, they don’t really do the trick. I’ve always been one to give into my vices. One of which is being offered to me on a very obvious silver platter in the form of a curvy, redheaded girl who I’ve seen in passing but never paid any mind to until this moment.
I’ve always had a thing for redheads.
“So, what ya in town for?” Annabelle asks, leaning her hip against the side of the opposite booth.
“Work,” I grunt, diving into my sandwich and taking a bite.
Her face scrunches up and her head tilts. “What kinda work is here in Raindale?”
I arch a brow. “The work kind.”
“Oh. Okay then.” Her mouth thins. “Well…” She leans in, her polo stretched tight across her chest, and my eyes drop, my dick twitching at the sight. “If you need some company while you’re here, you know where to find me.”
Her voice is low and breathy, and blood rushes into my cock, hardening it further. Fuck, I need to get laid.
Setting down my sandwich, I wipe my hands on a napkin as my eyes take her in, trailing up her curves and considering her offer.
I smirk. “I’ll think about it.”
The bell above the front door chimes letting us know that customers are walking in. She clears her throat and straightens, running a hand over her ponytail.
She’s occupied for the next few minutes, and after I finish my food, she comes back around to set down my bill.
She leans in much farther than necessary, her tits grazing against my forearm. “Don’t think too hard, handsome. Be a shame to miss out on a golden opportunity.”
I grace her with a wink and drop some cash on the table.
When I’m back at the motel, I fire up my laptop, pulling up the file I keep on Lily. Bypassing the photos I’ve taken—her walking with her son, and working at the diner—I drop down to the bottom of my notes and type in the new information.
My phone vibrates across the desk and I pick it up without looking. “Yeah,” I bark.
“What’s up, kid?”
A grin twitches at my lips. “Don, you big bastard.”
“Only big where it counts.” Amusement lines his voice.
I chuckle. “How’s retired life?”
“Boring as shit.” He sighs. “But the lady likes it, and if she’s happy then I’m happy.”
Rolling my eyes, I lean back in the chair. “Sounds thrilling.”
He laughs. “You’re still young, Mase. You’ll learn. How are things there?”
My eyes creep over the black-and-white photos of a younger Lily. Ones that her brother sent me. “Things are just fine.”
“Everything going okay?”
My stomach tightens. “Everything’s fine.”
“Mmhm.” He grunts. “You find what you were looking for?”
My jaw clenches. “Yep.”
“You on your way home?”
My chest pinches. “Nope.”
There’s silence on the line for long, stretched moments. “What do you mean, ‘nope?’”
“I mean there are some loose ends for me to tie up still. Some more information.”
“Ah, I see. He paying extra for that?”
My heart falters and for the first time, I consider lying to Don. But why? He’s retired. I can run things however the hell I want.
I clear my throat. “No. This is just to make sure he deserves to know where she is in the first place.”
Don sighs. “Kid, that’s not your problem.”
“Well, I’m making it my problem,” I snap back.
“Jesus. Fine.” He chuckles. “What is it you need to know that you haven’t figured out?”
Defensiveness swirls in my gut. “If I knew then I wouldn’t still be here trying to find out.”
He chuckles again and irritation snaps at my back. Most likely because he’s hitting me with valid questions that I have no answer for and we both know it. There’s no real reason for me to stay. There are a million reasons why I should leave. I’m being a fucking moron.
I groan, lifting my head to the ceiling. “I met her.”
“Yeah, and…”
“No.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Like… I fucking met her, Don. She knows who I am. She knows my face. Her fucking kid saw me.”
“What?” His voice is low and surprised. “How the hell did that happen, Mason?”
My chest pulls.“I don’t know it just… did.”
“You need to leave.” His voice deepens, a serious note taking over the timbre. “What the hell are you doing?”
I run my fingers through my hair, tugging on the strands. “Yeah, I don’t know.”
“Is there something you’re not telling me?”
I sit up straighter. “No, why would you think that?”
“Because this isn’t like you, Mason. You always know. You always have a plan of action. You never let emotions get in the way. Hell, I’m surprised you have any at all, to be honest. Your lack of them is what makes you so damn good at what you do.”
My teeth grind. There’s a difference between not having emotions and not showing them, but I don’t need to tell him that.
“You’ve always been thorough,” he continues. “But how much more can you even find out about her? And now she knows who you are? That’s a recipe for disaster and you know it.” He hesitates. “How long has it been since you’ve been this close to the West Coast?”
My body stiffens, squeezing the breath from my lungs. “Since I met you.”
He hums. “You watched the news lately?”
My eyes flick to the TV. “Not if I can help it.”
“Hmm.”
A tingle of warning skates down my skin. “Why, should I?”
He’s quiet, and I can picture his fingers rubbing across his bushy brows, trying to figure out how to talk some sense into me. “I think you should get out of that town and go back home.”
“You’re right,” I sigh.
“Always am. You need to be smart here, Mason. Don’t fuck around. Nothing good will come from talking to this girl, okay? What are you gonna do, tell her you’ve been hired to spy on her?” He huffs out a laugh, and my stomach sinks. What the fuck am I even doing?
“Listen, I gotta go. But be smart. And safe.”
I grumble a response.
“Talk to you later, Mase.”
He hangs up and I blow out a breath, my eyes still locked on the grainy photos of Lily. Don’s right. I don’t have any reason to stay here, other than the flimsy excuses I’ve made. And for what—to justify my curiosity?
But she knows me now. And that’s not a good thing, no matter how I try to spin it. That’s just me being shitty at my job.
I’ll call Chase in the morning and then I’ll leave.
Reaching in my pocket, I pull out my receipt from the diner, my thumb brushing over the phone number written hastily in ink. Annabelle.
If I’m leaving anyway, I might as well have some fun.