Page 54 of The Player's Club
After he reassured me he was fine, he padded to the bathroom but hadn’t turned off the light. I closed my eyes again, sleep wanting to claim me, when I heard Mac come back into my bedroom.
“Hey, Elodie,” he said, “what is this?”
My heart practically dropped to the floor after I opened my eyes. Mac held up a notebook—the same one I’d used when collecting information about him. And at the top was Dawn Morrison’s name and number.
ELODIE
My sleepy brain was now wide awake. Pulse racing, I sat up, scrambling for an explanation that wouldn’t make me seem like a total stalker. Or like I was a journalist digging for dirt.
“Okay, you caught me,” I said, keeping my voice light.
Mac raised an eyebrow, waiting for my explanation.
“I was curious about you, and I found out you went to high school with Dawn. So I wanted to hear about what you were like back then. I mean, can you blame me for wanting to know more about a preacher’s kid who gets into BDSM?”
Mac still looked uncertain, but then he let out a sigh that sounded relieved. “I guess I’d be curious, too,” he admitted.
I let out the breath I’d been holding.
“Did you talk to Dawn?” he asked, setting the notebook down and climbing back into bed with me.
“Yeah. She lives in Malibu and owns a pottery studio. When I found out she lived close by, I couldn’t help myself.”
“Well, shit. Now I’m not sure I want to know what she had to say about me.” Mac’s smile was amused. “I haven’t talked to her in years.”
“Oh, she was very complimentary.”
“We were each other’s beards, you know. She was gay, and I was into . . . other things. But she probably already told you all that.”
I nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”
“How was she? Dawn.”
“Um, she’s married now. She doesn’t look like she did in her yearbook photos. And she did a great job trying to teach me how to make a vase.” I chuckled at the memory. “Suffice to say, my attempt was a disaster.”
He chuckled but seemed a little lost in thought. I worried that he was thinking better of accepting my story so easily and that he might’ve been starting to doubt my explanation.
“I know what I did was intrusive, but curiosity got the best of me. Please tell me you don’t think I’m a stalker.”
Mac simply smiled, not granting me the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, he got up again and handed me a few bills, which also happened to have large OVERDUE notices at the top.
Now I blushed, feeling humiliated. “I ran a little short paying a few of my bills,” I hedged.
Mac picked up three other bills and cocked his head to the side. “Is everything okay?”
I wanted to die. I could tell he was concerned, but it irked me. I grabbed the bills from his hands and stuffed them into my drawer.
“I’m fine. I’m just a little behind. I had a book deal that fell through, so I’ve been doing extra freelance work that hasn’t paid yet. Don’t worry about me.”
Mac sat down on the bed next to me. “Do you need money, Elodie?”
I froze. I also bit my tongue nearly in half to keep from saying something I’d regret. He’s just trying to help, I reasoned.
“I don’t need your money,” I replied.
“Everybody needs help sometimes.”
“Well, I don’t.” Realizing how bitchy I sounded, I added, “Sorry. I’m fine. Really. Thanks for the offer, though. It’s just been tricky, too, because Todd and I were going to move in together, and obviously that didn’t happen . . .”