URGENT (Book 2 of the Soundcrush Series)

Chapter 37: Nice Guys Start Smoking Again

Adam

Mac has her back to me, but at my whispered words, her eyes meet mine in the full-length mirror. She blushes furiously, but she takes no step away from the blond, blue-eyed, wanna-be movie star that has his hands above hers on her naked breasts—both of them assessing and adjusting her cleavage.

Sawyer, the Lawson's PA, sees me too-and slides his hands off Mac's body. Both of his arms are covered in tats, even the underside of his forearms, which he raises in front of him, like a criminal surrendering under threat of force. Saywer used to be in a motorcycle club in his teens; he knows when to flex and when he's busted.

"Professional hazard, man," he says with a shrug. "I was just—"

"I know what you are doing," I snap, striding into the closet, tossing Mac a robe, and picking up the fashion tape from the bench beside them. "Taping her up for some outfit she wants to wear. I got it. You can go." I don't even try to make my words sound civil.

When Sawyer cuts his eyes to Mac for confirmation, that's when I lose my cool a little. "Get the fuck out before I lay you out, Sawyer."

"Hey man, I do what I'm paid to do," he grumbles, but he's sidling around me. When he shuts the door, Mac is glaring at me.

"Adam, that was rude. You would never talk to Riley like that." Mac throws down the robe and crosses her arms across her bare chest. She is still blushing, but her eyes have shifted from hazel to green.

Oh, you're angry? Whatever Shortcake. I'm fucking livid.

"Riley would have more sense than to cop a feel while he was doing his job," I snap back, squeezing the roll of tape, deforming it.

"It wasn't like that. Sawyer helps me with tricky outfits. Tamara doesn't work twenty-four seven, you know. You shouldn't be angry with him." Mac's voice is very controlled but her eyes are firing.

"Fuck Sawyer. I'm not angry with Sawyer," I growl, picking up the robe and throwing it around her shoulders. "Why don't you cover up and then you can explain what possible fucking reason you could have for this."

She steps back from me. "For what?"

" For leaving without any word, making me crazy. I thought either you changed your mind about moving in or worse. That you were having another flashback and left panicked. Then I find you naked with another man's hands all over you?" She's not actually naked, she's wearing booty shorts and fishnets, but she's most certainly topless. I pick up the scrap of a neon green top from the bench, putting the outfit in context.

"What the fuck? You just decided to go clubbing? You didn't have the courtesy to let me know? Was I supposed to figure out where you were from your Instagram or something? Jesus Christ!" I yell, striding out of the closet and slamming the door behind me.

I'm out the slider that leads to the pool, pacing around it, when she slips out into the night, fastening her robe around her. She watches me pace silently, until I stop on the other side of the pool. Subtle lights bloom in the landscaping, allowing us to see one another, but the pool shimmers like black oil between us.

"Well!?!?! WHAT. THE. FUCK. MAC!?!?!" I yell at her, flinging my arms open wide. The sound of my voice cutting the night surprises even me. It's dark and deep with rage.

She stalks around the pool like a lionness, her killer face on. "I want to punch you in the throat right now for yelling at me like that," she says coolly. "But I can see you didn't get my note."

"Note!?! What note?"

"The one I left on my pillow. The one that said I was hoping we could go out tonight and celebrate us," she says quietly. "The one that said Sawyer picked me up to get ready and that I would be back in an hour."