3. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 3
GRACELYN
M y back pressed against the door, I pull my cell out of my bag and the screen flashes to life.
Shit. It’s almost midnight, but I need to talk to Sloane. There’s no way I can sleep right now, not with the heady scent of Mack’s aftershave clinging to my skin and every nerve in my body still tingling from that kiss.
I need to talk this out right now, try to make sense of everything that went down tonight. And Sloane’s the only person in the world who will truly get it.
Gracelyn: BESTIE! You up?
I stare at the screen, willing a message to come through.
Bestie: Barely. What’s up?
Gracelyn: You’re never going to believe what happened tonight. Call me!
Not two seconds later, the phone trills in my hand and Sloane’s profile pic pops up. She always comes through for me, day or night. No matter how far apart we are, she’ll always be my bestie, and the very thought fills me with warm fuzzies.
“Ohmygod, you are not going to believe this!” I breathe into the speaker, stepping out of the tight stilettos and ambling over to the sofa.
“What happened? Are you okay?” Sloane’s voice tips up in concern and I feel a teensy bit guilty bothering her so late on a Saturday night. She probably was mid-coitus with her hottie football star fiancé, Cam.
“You’re not busy, um, with Cam right now, are you?” I loop a curl around my index finger, twirling it round and round.
“No. You’re okay, right?”
“Yes. Better than. Well, I did go on an epically bad first date with a guy from Blaze. He’s the most boring guy on the planet and the jerk had the audacity to bail – via text – while I was in the restroom.”
“Oh no. We talked about this, Gracelyn. I told you to stay off the dating apps. It literally never works out.”
“Not true, Sloane. Like one in three long-term relationships start on the internet these days. But anyway—I’m at the sink in the bathroom of Mustang’s and Jamie walks in.”
“No! Shoot.”
“I know! And she’s sticking to me tighter than a burr on a sock, I swear. I cannot shake the bitch. She follows me out of the restroom, begging to meet my date. Who already left the building, by the way.”
“No! So what did you do?” Sloane’s voice fills with concern. She understands just what an awful predicament I was in.
“The only thing I could think of. I homed in on the one person in the room I recognized.”
“Grace. Who was it? Not your ex, Troy?”
“Nope. You’ll never guess. So, in the interest of time, we’ll skip ahead to the good part.”
“There’s a good part here?”
I laugh, kicking my feet up on the sofa cushion and wiggling my toes to get the blood flowing back into my dogs.
“Definitely. I kissed Mack.”
She sucks in a sharp breath and there’s a long pause. So long I wonder if we’ve been disconnected.
“Sloane? You still there?” I tap on the screen. It appears I still have service.
“Mack? Mack-Mack? As in, my dad’s best friend Mack? The coach at the high school who watches every sport known to man on ESPN? That Mack?”
“Yeah. That Mack.”
“Oh. My. God.”
“I know. Crazy, right?”
“You always surprise me, Gracelyn. Do I want to know the rest of the details?” She drops her voice low, all the way down to a whisper. “Is he there with you now? Did you sleep with him?” There’s a mixture of horror and awe in her voice.
“No, he’s not here. And no, I did not sleep with him. We kissed at the bar. Strictly out of necessity, to get Jamie off my back.”
“Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?”
“He pretended to be my boyfriend and really sold the whole dating thing. I never paid too much attention to him before—I mean, he’s always seemed so much older than us, and he’s my mom’s neighbor and all.”
“Right…” Sloane draws the word out.
“But he’s low-key hot, Sloane. Like, built. I had no idea until tonight. The man’s kinda gorgeous. Scruffy and laidback, really manly. And he smells good. Did you know that?”
“No. I don’t go around sniffing my dad’s best friend. And do not start calling him Daddy. You do that and I’m hanging up right now.”
I giggle, warmth flooding through me thinking about Mack and the kiss.
“What, you have something against Daddies now?”
“No. It’s just, I don’t know—weird. He’s Mack.”
“Well, Mack is hot. And he’s not nearly old enough to be my daddy.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“Hey, not all of us luck out and land our high school crush,” I tease, and Sloane laughs.
“I don’t think you had a high school crush, Gracelyn.”
“You’re right. I had about fifteen of them. Hard to narrow it down to only one loser.”
Cam’s deep voice rumbles in the background and I know I should let my friend go and get back to whatever she swears she wasn’t doing when I called.
“I’ll let you go. I miss you.” A twinge of sadness pulls at my chest. “Love you, bestie.”
“Love you, too. I’ll be back in town soon. For Hoco.”
“Good. I’m going to need moral support. Jamie’s coaching the dance team.”
“What? Although that tracks. She’s perfect for the job.”
“I know, she has the kind of hair you can really whip around. Okay, night.”
“Night.”
The line clicks and I toss my cell onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.
Mack.
I wasn’t lying when I said I never thought about him in that way.
Until now.
I should have gone for it and invited him in. But I felt like I already pushed my luck pretty far this evening. The kiss was probably a one-time thing and I shouldn’t read too much into it. Sure, he kissed me back with the exact right amount of pressure. And sure, his chest felt solid up against mine, my heart pounding as he stared down at me. And I’d be lying if I said his hand on my ass didn’t send fire licking through me, wetness flooding my thong.
But Sloane’s right. He’s probably not right for me. And when things spiral downward—which, let’s face it, they always do—I’ll have to see him all the time. We’ll run into each other constantly and that will be terrible.
Best to shut this down before anything really happens between us.
Even if that lip lock was the best kiss of my whole entire life.
I should one-thousand percent pretend it never happened and move on with my boring, safe, single life.
* * *
Mack stars in my dreams all night long. I can’t stop thinking about the man and his beyond-kissable lips, the rough pads of his fingers as he brushed them across my cheek.
There’s only one thing to do about this.
Morning comes around and I roll up to my mom’s house, hoping for a Mack sighting. Throwing my car into park, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and crane my neck, searching for signs of life next door to my mom’s bungalow.
Dammit. Nothing.
He’s probably working out or something, sculpting those strong pec muscles for the next lucky lady.
Stop it, Gracelyn. Remember—Mack’s a bad idea. He screams ‘I’ve got Daddy issues.’
Which, to be fair, I kinda do.
But those have nothing to do with the Mack crush I’ve got going on right now.
Huffing out a breath, I stare at Mack’s front door for a few more seconds. Nothing happens. The blinds don’t open, he doesn’t walk out wearing only his boxers.
A girl can dream, right?
May as well go say hi to my mom, since I’m here and all. Hopping out of the car, I traipse up the driveway as slowly as I can.
Still nothing.
Climbing the stairs, I rap on the door twice before letting myself in.
“Hey, Mom!” I take a quick left, bypassing the salon portion of the house where I work with my mother. She’s an OG girl boss and together we’re Thunder Creek’s dynamic duo. Plumb Perfect is the place to get your hair done in this town and the surrounding counties. The only reason the dryers are off and the main salon is dark right now is because Sundays are the day of rest, the only day we’re closed all week.
I love what I do, giving my clients new styles. Helping women look and feel their best. Bonus points for being up-to-date on all the latest gossip and the short commute. And don’t tell my mom, but I really do enjoy working side-by-side with her.
Coming round the corner and popping my head into the bright kitchen, I about have a heart attack. My mom’s not alone.
A man with broad shoulders and sandy, wavy hair’s sitting at the small dining table. Even with his back to me, I recognize that thick neck, those corded forearms.
He swivels to face me, a smirk tipping up the corner of his full lips. Lips I know a lot better after last night.
“Morning, Gracelyn.”
Face flaming, heat rushes through me as I choke out an acceptable greeting.
“Morning, Mack.”