“Then what are you worried about?”
What was she worried about? Although Ace could get angry and say some stupid things, he’d never been violent. She’d had almost no contact with Mack since they’d married—certainly not the type that should make Ace think Mack had interfered in any way. Besides, they were divorced. She could hang out with whomever she pleased. “Nothing. Never mind. So you’re putting it out?”
“Yep. Right now.”
She figured she’d talk to Mack, see what he thought. If he wasn’t comfortable going there, she’d drive over as soon as he returned so that someone would be home with Lucas through the night. As much as she’d tried to outdistance her past, she hated to risk losing her personal items for good, when she had so little from her childhood to begin with. “Okay, thanks,” she said and disconnected so that she could call Mack.
He answered on the first ring. “I just got the truck back,” he announced. “Heading your way now.”
“Have you already left the LA area?”
“Not quite. Why?”
“My ex-husband has a box of pictures and other stuff that means a lot to me. It’s all I have of my childhood, and I’m afraid of what he might do to it if I don’t get it from him right away. I know it’s late, so I feel bad asking, but he said he’d set it outside if—”
“You want me to grab it? Of course. Where does he live?”
Mack acted like it would be no big deal. And it shouldn’t be. Maybe she was reading too much into Ace’s response. Mack had nothing to do with their marriage falling apart—other than existing. “I’m a little hesitant to give it to you,” she admitted.
“Is it that far?”
“It shouldn’t be. It’s Burbank, but he was acting strange on the phone. I’m afraid he might give you a hard time just because you’re helping me.”
“Why would that be any of his business?”
“You know how messy divorces can be. Old feelings, resentment.”
“Well, if there are any hard feelings, I think it’s better that I pick it up instead of you.”
“Except I don’t want him to start anything.”
“I’m not worried about that.”
Should he be? She hesitated while weighing it all out in her mind. No. It should be no big deal. Mack was already in LA. If Ace set out her memorabilia, he could grab it and the two men wouldn’t even have to see each other.
“I’ve already turned around,” Mack said. “Text me his address.”
She crossed to her bed and dropped onto it. “Okay. I’m probably worried for nothing. You’d only be picking up a small box.”
“Right. I’ve never even met this man. Why would we have a problem?”
“Exactly.” Feeling better about the whole thing—and hoping she could get her pictures and other mementos before something happened to them—she provided Ace’s address.
Six
The porch light was on, giving Mack the impression Ace was expecting him, but he couldn’t find a box, a bag or anything else at the front door. He considered calling Natasha to ask for Ace’s phone number—he knew Ace had roommates and didn’t want to wake the whole household by pounding on the door if he didn’t have to—but he was afraid Natasha had fallen asleep, and if he disturbed her she’d be up for the rest of the night.
After checking one more time around the stoop and nearby bushes, he lifted his hand to knock, but the door opened before he could make contact.
“You must be Mack.”
A tall, slender man stood there in a tank top, cutoffs and flip-flops, someone who looked like the quintessential Southern California surfer, with gleaming teeth, a deep tan, a leather necklace and bleached bangs that were so long he had to keep flipping them out of his eyes. “Yeah, I’m Mack,” he said, instantly wary. Something wasn’t right: he could tell. What kind of game was Ace playing? Why hadn’t he just left the box outside, as he’d said he would? “And you’re Ace, right?”
“That’s right.”
In an attempt to be polite, Mack stuck out his hand, but Ace wouldn’t take it, so Mack said, “Can I get what I came for?”
“In a sec. First, I have something I’d like to say to you.”
Mack took a step back. He could hear the suppressed emotion in Ace’s voice. “What’s that? Because I don’t think there’s anything to say. We don’t even know each other.”
“For one thing, I’d like to hear you say you’ve never slept with my wife.”
That was a loaded question, one Mack knew he had to handle carefully. He couldn’t categorically deny any sexual contact with Natasha. What if Lucas turned out to be his? How would he explain that? He hadn’t touched Natasha since she’d been married, but clarifying would give away that he had touched her before. “I don’t see why that’s any of your business—not at this point.”
“She lived with you and your brothers for three years when she was only sixteen. I can’t believe none of you tapped a piece of ass that fine and that accessible.”
Mack felt his muscles bunch but told himself to keep a cool head. “As you’ve mentioned, she was only sixteen. I was twenty-five. Sleeping with her would not only have been morally wrong, it would’ve been a crime.”
“And you’re claiming that stopped you? When she was dying to fuck you and her mother was always so stoned she had no one to look out for her?”
Even Ace’s choice of words were inflammatory. “We were there to look after her,” Mack said, keeping his tone measured.
“You expect me to believe you didn’t do anything with her before she turned eighteen? You’re lying, and that’s why she’s so screwed up she can’t love anyone but you.”
“I didn’t touch her when she lived with us,” Mack reiterated. “It wasn’t like that.” But there were certainly moments when the situation nearly got away from him. The harder he’d tried to keep his thoughts and desires under control, the harder she’d tried to make him change his mind. Sometimes she wouldn’t close her door all the way when she was changing, if she knew he was the only one at home, or she’d purposely walk back to her room after a shower in nothing but a towel. Even when his brothers were around, she’d brush up against him at every opportunity. She’d kept him so sexually frustrated he’d slept with a lot of other women, just to satisfy that urge. By the time she’d moved out at nineteen, it had been all he could do not to give her exactly what she was asking for—until they’d both had their fill.