Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Olivia
“ T his is ridiculous,” I muttered under my breath as I tossed a couple more items into the bag. I’d been muttering the words over and over the entire ride home from the lake house. It was finally Rosie who trumped me into agreeing because I didn’t want my daughter to be in danger, and if being with Mac meant she might be a fraction safer, Mac’s was where I’d take her.
All my frustration wove tightly around the fact that spending time with him had royally messed with my head. Independent woman? Yes, thank you. Horny and attracted to the silver fox that fathered her daughter? Also yes. Trapped in a situation that meant one of us could lose our jobs if something came of this attraction?
I shook my head because now I was being ridiculous.
I was more upset about what might happen if I was forced to spend time with Mac, and how that absolutely could not happen, than I was about being targeted by a killer .
Why?
Because just the minimal amount of time that we’d spent at the lake house had shown me that Mac was still as amazing as I’d remembered.
And everything he did made me want him more. Which was impressive considering I hadn’t had much of a sex drive in the past few… years, it seemed.
Being told she’s “frigid” would do that to a woman.
Old shame resurfaced at the memory of Tim and me trying—and failing—to talk through our intimacy issues. In the end, it had just been easier to forgo sex than to deal with the problems that came with it.
To him, it didn’t matter that my mind wouldn’t shut off, ever. Even when we were in bed. Especially when we were in bed.
He’d go down on me, and I’d start thinking about a grocery list.
Maybe part of it was that he just wasn’t a very skilled lover. But the other part was that I just couldn’t get out of my head long enough to enjoy sex.
And then my body had begun shutting down almost, and my doctor told me that if I didn’t use it, I’d lose it—meaning the ability to lubricate—and that just made things worse.
The last time we’d tried, Tim had made some snarky comment about my dryness and gave me an unceremonious squirt of cold lube right on my vagina without putting forth any effort to make the act even remotely romantic. Sex became a forced transaction between us, and I resented the hell out of it—and him.
I pulled the vibrator I’d purchased after the divorce from the bedside table. It was rather tame looking compared to the others in the store, but the clerk had called it the tried-and-true go-to. In the two years since the divorce, I’d tried to use it a couple times, had even proven to myself that I could at least experience sexual sensation again.
And absolutely none of that had anything to do with me packing up to go stay with Mac. Even if I felt a flutter of activity low in my belly at the thought of maybe using the vibrator in his house, in sheets that smelled like him. I dropped the vibrator back into the nondescript storage bag in my drawer. And instead, I picked up the small bullet that I’d gotten at the same time and buried it in the inside pocket of my suitcase before I could change my mind.
I zipped the bag and rolled it out to the door with Rosie’s. “Are you ready?”
“Almost.”
The front door opened, and Mac’s head and broad shoulders poked through. “This stuff ready to load?”
I hummed my assent, turning away so he couldn’t see the heat burning my cheeks.
Where was my badass attitude? My woman-in-charge mindset?
I was a horndog with zero focus, and he had really great forearm porn.
The real issue was the threats being made against me, and what that meant.
I took a fortifying breath, calling on the focus and intention that had gotten me through the last fifteen years. I could handle the threats and the way the mayor seemed to be sabotaging me. And I could handle staying with Mac for a few nights.
By the end of the third day, I could admit that I’d been lying when I convinced myself I wouldn’t be affected by pretty much constant interaction with Mac. The first night had been mildly awkward on my part, because despite my trying, I couldn’t forget about the toy hidden away in my suitcase, and watching Mac be all kinds of capable was a total turn-on. The second night had been equally as awkward, because being in Mac’s space while he was on shift just felt wrong. But the third day had been rough.
At work, it was easy to make it through the day without wondering what he and Rosie were doing after school.
Not .
If I stopped to check my phone for a message from him once, I’d done it a hundred times.
By the time I finished up my reports for administration and made it home, the sun was hanging lower, and the late-summer evening was starting to wind down.
Mac and Rosie were on the far side of the small pond in a little boat, fishing poles in the water. Rosie held hers down and out in front of her while Mac showed her how to cast. He demonstrated, and then she took a turn. Her sound of frustration echoed across the water.
I chuckled to myself because he didn’t know what he was getting into trying to teach the world’s worst sport how to do anything. My child was headstrong, just like me.
With them on the water, I had plenty of time to duck inside to change and get dinner started. I opened the door to the fragrant smell of spices and something in the kitchen. My nose led me to find a slow cooker on the counter, and I lifted the lid. Rosie’s favorite meal to make, probably the only meal that she could make—roast with potatoes and carrots—bubbled .
I checked the meat and realized we’d be ready to eat soon. They must’ve put it in right after school.
A tiny sliver of unease ran through me as I glanced at the two of them on the water.
Not even a week had gone by, and Mac was stepping up… or stepping in.
Already, he’d proven to be the one she was drawn to. They had the same contemplative look and some of the same mannerisms.
And now, he had my normally pristine, diva-ish daughter on the water, teaching her to fish, of all things. I shook my head at my own absurdity. Was I jealous of my fourteen-year-old daughter?
I pushed the troublesome thoughts aside. After changing out of my uniform, I poured a glass of wine and went out to the porch to wait for them.
Buster saw me and took off running, clearly over being left alone on the bank.
This was another thing I was getting used to. Having a dog. I could see where the draw was because he made a good companion. But it was a first for me. I’d never thrown a tennis ball more in my life.
I pitched the ball to him a couple of times and pulled out my phone to check emails. On impulse, I zoomed in and snapped a photo of the two fishermen—fisher people , I mentally corrected.
Mac was looking at Rosie, pride etched on his rugged features. Rosie had her arms extended and was intensely concentrating. The whole scene was idyllic and sweet, and it made my heart ache just a little.
The sun was just beginning to set when they docked the boat and made the trek to the house, Rosie hopping along to his steady gait .
Really. The man had no business being so attractive. But from this distance, it was safe for me to notice the way his long legs ate up the ground, the muscles of his thighs playing peekaboo with every step he took. He was steady and sturdy, and I understood the pull my daughter felt to him.
I stood to catch Rosie as she ran up to hug me, face the slightest bit pink from being in the sun. “Hey, Mom! Mac is teaching me to fish.”
“Looked like you were having a good time.” I gave her a peck on the cheek, smoothing a hand over her unruly hair. Times like this, she let her little girl shine. I’d take it over the surly teenager she could sometimes be.
She ruffled Buster’s fur and bounced inside. “I’m going to wash up and finish dinner. Did you see that I cooked, Mom?” The door closed behind her before I could respond.
A deep, masculine chuckle sounded behind me, the effect sending a shiver down my spine and straight to my lady parts. I looked over my shoulder to see him lean a shoulder against the post, his eyes cast down near my ass. Was he checking me out?
I turned to face him, and his gaze tracked up my body like a visceral touch.
“Hey, Chief. How’re things at the firehouse?”
He said it like he needed reminding of our situation. Like he was establishing the boundaries between us.
But the heat in his eyes as they met mine told a different story. For a moment, I wished I could bounce into his arms like Rosie had to me. I licked my lips in anticipation of what it would be like to feel that body against mine.
His gaze grew darker, and he pushed off the rail, stalking toward me. I was frozen to the spot, my breath shallow.
Like he’d read my mind, he got closer, close enough I could feel the summer heat coming off him.
“I’m gonna go grab a beer.” His arm brushed mine as he reached for the door, and then he was gone. That… was not what I was expecting.
I blew out a breath. Whew . He still had whatever it was that made me want him. And I absolutely could not think like that.
Taking a moment to gather my wits, I sank into my rocking chair and picked up the wine glass, draining the last few drops. I sat back with a sigh.
Twilight was one of my favorite times, right after sunset, when the world felt almost suspended. I nudged the rocker in motion with a toe and let the peacefulness of Mac’s place sink into me. Of course he’d have two houses on water, two houses situated to enjoy both the sunrise and sunset.
And if I could get past this feeling of want, this little forced vacation could be relaxing.
Suddenly, it hit me. I was feeling things, sexual things. I wanted him. My lips turned up at the realization that maybe I wasn’t broken after all like my ex had made me feel. I let the what-ifs run through my mind.
What if I’d leaned forward when he’d drawn close?
What if I’d pressed my lips to his and explored that delicious-looking mouth?
What if I’d brushed his chest as he passed by, or reached out to trail my fingertips across his waist?
The door creaked open, and the man himself stepped through.
What if I wasn’t his boss?
It was this last thought that sobered me as he settled into the chair next to me .
He passed me a cold beer and said, “Rosie says supper will be ready in seven minutes.”
“That’s a very specific time frame,” I noted.
The corner of his mouth turned up, his lips full and inviting, and I should not notice his mouth at all.
“She might be preparing you a surprise.” The twinkle in his eye did it for me.
“Mac…”
“I’m glad you’re both here.” He spoke over me. “She’s a good kid.”
Well, if his admission didn’t just stop my arguments right in their tracks.
I recalibrated by saying, “Looked like you two had fun out there.”
“Yeah, I’d forgotten how much fun a lazy afternoon of fishing could be. I suppose I owe you a huge thanks for letting me get to know her.” He met my gaze then. “I know it can’t be easy for you. I’m just letting you know I appreciate it.”
Dammit. He had to stop being so amazing.
Why couldn’t he be a jerk like Tim?
And how wrong was it to be wishing a crappy father on my daughter? I needed to check myself because this wasn’t healthy for anyone.
“She is a good kid. Thank you for noticing. And thank you for spending time with her. As you can tell, it’s made her very happy.”
Silence filled the void between us.
“She’s not the only one, Liv. I’m also glad you’re here.” He drew a long pull on his beer, my eyes drawn to the spot where his throat flexed as he swallowed.
I didn’t know what to say. No one had said anything like that to me in so long. Made me feel appreciated and seen .
Buster nudged my hand, his soppy head leaving a trail of dog hair on my hand. “Ew…”
Mac chuckled, low and sexy, and called, “Buster, come.”
Buster took two steps, stopped directly in front of me, and shook off his swim. A shower of doggy-scented pond water sprayed over my legs.
I squealed and drew them back, and Mac busted out laughing. A rich, deep, delicious sound that was worth its weight in gold. His big hand swiped down my leg, and he froze, hand just above my ankle. In slow motion, it seemed, his eyes went to my lips, and his fingers tightened on my ankle.
Every nerve in my body sat up and took notice. Warmth pooled in my belly. I was a breath away from sliding my leg through his hand, urging him to move it north. To touch me. Remind me again of how good it was between us.
“Supper’s ready,” Rosie called from inside, startling us both and breaking the spell.
Mac stood and offered me a hand to join him. I slid my hand in his and held my breath as I stood, coming so close it wouldn’t be anything to press my chest to his. I watched him swallow. Watched his jaw clench. And watched him take a step back to open the door for me.
I also didn’t miss the reflexive way his hand fisted as he let go of mine.
I didn’t know if I was going to survive staying here, but I was beginning to think going up in flames might just be worth it.