Page 44 of Lesson In Honesty
The beauty of him was—and it baffled Mack how the playboy pulled it off so consistently—none of the women got their feathers ruffled by his fuck ‘em and leave ‘em routine, orhis refusal to do any woman twice, no matter how well they connected.
In bed or out.
“You look like you could use something stronger than juice,” a woman commented, sliding into the seat beside him. Her thick as molasses accent was familiar; when he turned his head, he recognized the Mistress who’d been part of the first trio on stage last night. “Are you wishing the day away or just hoping to get away from the little monsters before they wake up?”
Pushing his empty glass to the side, Mack turned more comfortably in his chair. “Neither, actually. Musing over weird conversations with weirder friends. Ever wonder how some people wiggle into your life and end up rooted there?”
“All the damn time.” Grin flashing, she offered her hand. “Mistress Violet.”
“Maverick Morehead—Mack,” he added pointedly.
Violet purred. “Hmm, I remember you putting on one hell of a show last night with the delightful Sierra; I’m actually slightly jealous.” She laughed when his eyebrow quirked in question. “Straight as an arrow most of the time, except when I like to dabble out of curiosity.” Her gaze slid over to the Little pile, softening when it landed on Sierra. “She rouses a great deal of curiosity in me.”
“I think she has that effect on people.”
“Yes,” she agreed, her velvet tone turning to steel. “In too many cases, it’s a negative kind of curiousness. A cruel one. So many thoughts ofwhat is she? Why is she like that? Why doesn’t she do something about it?A lot of tongues that can’t keep themselves silent. How are you with your tongue, Mack?”
For ten long seconds, he actually thought she was asking him how hewaswith histongue, as in stamina, aptitude, flexibility in—or on—certain areas. Luckily, he caught himself before hegave her a very inappropriate answer. “I know how to hold it, Violet.”
“I hope so. I’d hate to have to hurt you.” The side eye she slipped his way was ominous. “She might not be mine, but she is what I consider a friend. Liam, too.”
“Friends are good.” Judging by the way this encounter was unfolding, he’d be better off with Violet as a friend instead of an enemy. God knew he didn’t want that molten brown stare lasering into his brain with any animosity; she’d fry every cell in there. “How blunt do you want me to be? I’m not an asshole, I’m not here to hurt anyone. Whatever my agreement is with Liam and the pixie, it’s none of your business.”
Now she faced him fully. “Is that as blunt as you get?”
“Without being unforgivingly rude,” he stated.
“And you’re not an asshole,” she repeated slowly. Patting his arm, she sighed lightly. “Yes, you’re right, it has nothing to do with me. As Sierra’s new friend, however, I feel protective toward her.”
“Maybe she instills that feeling in everyone who gets close to her.”
“Maybe.”
When the heap of sleeping Littles began to stir, Mack kept one eye on Sierra. She was a fucking sneak; if he lost track of her and she got into trouble, he doubted it would put him in Liam’s good graces.
“Another juice, sir?” The ‘bar’ tender of the Nursery gave him a fluttery smile. With her blonde hair pulled back in a long braid and big, bluebell-colored eyes, she might have piqued his interest if they’d met before last night.
“No, thanks.”
Her bottom lip poked out. “No worries. Mistress V?”
“Thank you, Mindy, I’ll wait for something stronger later on.”
“Of course, Mistress V.”
“This getting waited on hand and foot takes some getting used to,” Mack said quietly as Mindy walked off to talk to someone further down the line. “Does Ledston hire staff to light fires and bring breakfast to the cabins? Turn on coffeemakers?”
Violet blinked. “Ah…”
“Because when I woke up this morning, the fire was lit, there was breakfast waiting for me under a dome, and the coffee was ready.”
“Well,” she replied in a faux-sarcastic tone, “that must have been truly terrible for you. I’m assuming you opted for the full service when you booked your stay?”
Oh, what the hell had Tristan done? Mack’s mouth almost dropped open when he realized he didn’t have the first inkling of what preferences his friend had put down on the booking sheet. Dropping his forehead into his palm, he muttered, “Ask my friend, Tristan, who actuallyisan asshole. The biggest, hairiest fucking asshole alive.”
“I can’t say I’m familiar with that level of assholiness. What’s he done?”
He groaned until the sound reverberated in his throat and chest. “On the kind, nice friend side, he got me here. Booked and paid for the entire thing because he wasworriedfor me.” Now he was having serious doubts about the fucker’s intentions. “On the asshole prankster flip of the coin, it’s dawning on me he could’ve set all manner of shit up and not told me.”