“Hunt,” Mason says, and my eyes dart to him. He doesn’t look up from his phone, as he continues, “You have a choice. Serena or Layla.”
“What?” Layla gasps. “You don’t get to decide who can be friends with me.”
Hurt by his words, I sit back and stare out the window.
So, I’m only here because of my friendship with Layla.
Well, that sucks.
“At least, now I know where I stand,” I mumble. “So much for thinking I was a part of the group and not just Layla’s sidekick.”
“Of course you’re part of the group,” Layla says, and taking hold of my hand, she squeezes it.
I give her a thankful smile and decide to let it go seeing as it was Mason, and seriously, does it even matter what he thinks?
When we reach CRC, and Lake parks the car, I open the door and climb out. My ankle has pretty much healed, but I’m still careful with each step I take, so I don’t go and sprain it again.
As we walk toward the entrance, Lake falls in next to me and holds his arm for me to take.
“It’s healed,” I remind him.
He smiles warmly at me, “I know, but let me be a gentleman.”
I grin at him as I take his arm and give it a quick hug. “You’re special people, Lake Cutler.”
“Yeah, with the patience of a Saint seeing as he has to deal with you,” Mason mumbles as he walks past us.
I glare at him as he tucks his phone into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
“Aww… Mason, cute as always.” I roll my eyes at him, even though he can’t see.
His voice rumbles as he walks into the building, “Always a pleasure, babe.”
“Asshole,” I grumble after him.
A damn hot asshole in the suit he’s wearing, but an asshole nonetheless.“This is nothing like the Thanksgiving function,” Layla whispers, where we’re standing to the side.
I lean closer to her, and whisper back, “Yeah, I know what you mean. It feels more intimidating with just the families.”
“Right? Talking about intimidating,” she mutters as Mrs. Reyes comes toward us.
Mrs. Reyes holds a wine glass in her hand, her pinky sticking in the air all dainty like. There’s a disgusted look on her face as if she just stepped in crap with her satin pumps from Prada.
“Miss Shepard,” she pauses and lets her eyes slowly sweep over Layla, “you’re here.”
Woo-oowwww!
“Mrs. Reyes,” Layla inclines her head as if she’s greeting royalty, “I hope you’ve been well.”
Mrs. Reyes’ eyes crawl over to me, and I actually have an eye-spasm when I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her snootiness.
“You brought a friend,” she sneers condescendingly.
Fight it, Kingsley.
You can beat the urge of the eye roll.
“Kingsley, this is Falcon’s mother, Clare Reyes,” Layla introduces us.
Yeah, and now I’m just plain stuck.
How do I greet this woman?
Can’t say it’s a pleasure…
I’d say you’re a cow, but that would be an insult to all the cows out there…
I have to suppress the grin brought on from the last thought, and instead, I just nod at her. It’s better for everyone here if I keep my mouth shut right now.
“From which family?” she demands.
“Hunt.” I let a wide smile spread over my face. “Doctor Stephen Hunt is my father. You might have met him already? He’s a plastic surgeon.”
Mrs. Reyes eyes narrow on me, which means she got the insult I subtly threw her way.
“The name is unfamiliar,” she sneers. “But it’s to be expected, seeing as you’re a friend of Miss Shepard.”
Falcon and Mason come up behind her. They must’ve heard what we were talking about because Mason throws his arm around Mrs. Reyes shoulders, and smiling at her, he says, “Don’t be so vain, Clare. No one will judge you for having some work done.”
Dude… bravo!
I want to high-five him, but instead, I settle for grinning at him.
When Mason actually smiles at Layla and me, my eyes widen, and I stare at him with surprise.
He should definitely smile more. It transforms him from beast to beauty… one hell of a sexy and fu –
My thoughts screech to a halt when he winks at me.
I start to blink as if I’m malfunctioning, which has him chuckling as he steers Mrs. Reyes away from us.
“Mason, how dare you!” she snaps at him while trying to shake his arm from her shoulders.
Mason tightens his hold around her and with authority lacing his words, he says, “Seeing as I’ll be taking over the finances soon, let's talk about how much you spend on your face every year.”
“Did he just wink at you?” Layla asks, sounding as surprised as me, then she takes a sip of her soda.
“Probably got an eye spasm,” I mumble. “It could be an allergic reaction to Mrs. Reyes, seeing as I had the same problem.”
Layla snorts when she tries to keep from laughing out loud and quickly covers her face. She rushes from the room, and I set after her, covering my mouth as laughter bursts from me because she just snorted her soda.