Page 280 of Rogue Riders Duet

“If you don’t want to ask him…” he says quietly, “… or if he says no, we could get a hotel room together. You could sleep next to me.”

I blink. “Really?”

His eyes search my face in a way he did a few times already, asking silently for permission, and again, without knowing what he’s asking, I give it with a nod.

Mason steps forward, wraps his arms around me, and pulls me into his chest like he needs the hug as much as I do.

“I know I’m not Luc.” His voice is a whisper against my ear. “But if you don’t want to ask anyone for help, you can ask nobody. I can hold you through the night.”

I sag into him, all the tension melting for just a second as I slide my arms around his waist and bury my face in his shirt. When I breathe in his pine scent, everything doesn’t feel so heavy anymore.

“I’d love that,” I whisper, then pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Another beat of silence passes before I lift a brow. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Mason lets go of me, and I instantly miss his warmth. With a glint of mischief in his eye, he says, “I came to ask if you’re in the mood to sit and watch our boy play the drama queen during pit setup.”

My answering smile comes easily. “Oh my God, yes.”

He laughs softly, clearly pleased with himself for dragging me out of my spiral. The sound makes something loosen in my chest, but then I glance down at myself—oversized shirt, no binder, nothing even close to passable for being out in public.

Ugh.

“Give me a minute.”

Leaning his hip against the table, he crosses his ankles and arms like he’s got all day. He’s in all black, as usual, and somehow it still catches me off guard how fucking good he looks in it, which makes me probably check him out for a beat too long.

“If you don’t move, we’re gonna miss the show,” Mason mutters, but I catch the amusement in his tone.

I roll my eyes, cheeks heating as I grab a sock from the small storage bin and head toward the tiny bathroom cubby at the back of the bus. I brush my teeth, splash cold water on my face, put on some deodorant, and run my fingers through my hair until it looks slightly less like a bird’s nest. It helps. Not enough, but a little.

Afterward, I tuck the sock where it needs to be in my boxers, then step out into the main space again. I grab my binder from the overhead shelf, then give Mason my back when I pull my shirt over my head. No way I’m going into that bathroom again. It’s too cramped, the air too damp.

I fumble with the small hooks on each side of my ribs, my left hand straining to keep the tension with only three fingers, while my right hand tries to close each one. I get one, then lose it trying to do the second. Over and over.

I hear his boots before I feel him at my back. “Can I?” His voice is hesitant.

Yes, anything, my body seems to answer, because I nod without thought and let go, letting the ends fall to my side. He takes them without touching my skin. Doesn’t even brush against me as he works, just hooks the clasps and smooths the fabric into place, way softer with it all than I would’ve been.

“There.”

Goose bumps rise along my spine like a wave, and his knuckles graze along them, then travel over to my ribs and down my sides. The touch is light, almost accidental, but then his finger trails lower, over the scars at my hip.

Fuck, I forgot about them.

“You know, I was so worried for you back then. I wondered how you were doing. More often than I probably should’ve.”

“You were?” I look at him over my shoulder, searching his face. “We never even talked.”

He shakes his head, but doesn’t meet my eyes, almost seeming self-conscious. “Sorry about that. I was shy back then. You probably didn’t notice, but I watched you a lot.”

“I watched you too.”

His answering smile is a little crooked. “Told myself if I ever got on your team, I’d finally kick my own ass and say hello or… more.”

I reach back and take his hand, squeezing it. “Hello.”

His smirk deepens, eyes sparking as he squeezes back. “Hello, Alaina Crews.”

A spark shoots straight through me, but he gives me a tug, so I don’t dwell on it long.