Chapter Three
Mac
While Mac was out working in his shed, he heard the purr of an engine, signaling the approach of a vehicle. His workshop was more of a covered pavilion than an enclosed structure, as it wouldn’t be safe to operate gas- powered machinery or store chemicals in an enclosed space. And he didn’t need to worry about security or theft up on the mountain. If anyone did venture up here and was up to no good, his Remington 870 12 gauge shotgun would take care of the situation.
His mind quickly flashed back to the conversation with his cousin and he let out a grunt. It had to be her. He never had random visitors, and since he’d heard a car, it wasn’t a lost hunter or hiker. He didn’t want her snooping around looking for him, so he strolled around to the front of the cabin to meet her as she pulled into the paved area where he parked his truck. Crossing his arms, he stood and stared as she exited the vehicle, a racy, metallic red Mustang GT fastback. After watching her unfold herself from the low bucket seat and stand to face him, he was taken aback. He barely recognized this Marissa. First of all, she’d always been more of a Jeep girl. Secondly, she was wearing expensive designer jeans that hugged her body like a glove, tucked into western style boots that were a fashion accessory, not built for practicality. And the curvy hips and full breasts that he used to enjoy holding onto were gone. She looked so thin that he bet her ass was no longer more than a handful, either. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he stared past her in silence. What did he care what she looked like now?
She walked toward him with her fingers wedged into the tight front pockets of her pants, her fake boots crunching the gravel of the roadway.
“Hey, Mac.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“You could have called.”
“I tried that. Wasn’t able to reach you that way. Besides, it probably needs to be an in-person conversation.”
Even though he was starting to fall under the spell of the hoarse voice he’d heard in his dreams so many nights, he didn’t plan to make this easy for her. She didn’t deserve easy.
“What would you need to talk to me about? Seems to me, your feet did all the talkin’ when you walked away.” Before she could open her mouth to respond, he continued. “Say your piece real quick. I got things to do.”
He needed to get rid of her before he lost his senses and begged her to stay. It looked to him like she reared back and stood a little straighter before she answered him. She’s still a spitfire with a backbone. Not that it matters.
“I’m here as a last resort. I need a copy of our divorce decree and it doesn’t appear to be on file at the courthouse. Nor does the attorney you used have it.”
He scratched his beard, trying to appear as if lost in thought or confused. “You don’t say.” Actually, he knew exactly why it wasn’t available, but he wasn’t going to tell her that they were still married just yet. He was going to enjoy messing with her for a while. He knew just how to push her buttons.
He hid a clandestine smile when he noticed her tapping her foot in irritation.
“Mac. Help me out here, then I can be on my way. Do you have a copy you can give me? Or know how I can get one?”
“I’d need to look for it. You know I’m not organized when it comes to important papers. I’m not sure I can spare the time to try to find it right now. I’m busy.” And with that, he turned and headed toward the cabin. Once he reached it, he stepped inside and slammed the door, his way of saying kiss my ass.