“So, is he the guy?” Jack asked, leaning away from the picnic table, his back resting on the railing of the deck, cigarette burning between his fingers. The sleeveless white t-shirt he’d yanked on before sitting down to eat hung low on his neck, tight over his chest, yet still loose at the waist, accentuating the cut of Jack’s torso in an almost maddening exaggeration. It took Mason a minute to drag his eyes away from the body that seemed even more alluring in clothing than it had naked.
“Who? What guy?”
Jack took a long last drag of his smoke, spun the remaining tube between his fingers until the heater dropped on to the lawn below, and shoved the spent butt back into the cigarette package. “The guy on the phone. Is he the guy that has you up here hiding with a w***e?”
Mason winced. “P
