15. Mack
CHAPTER 15
MACK
I stay the night with Gracelyn.
The whole night. Lying next to her in bed, listening to her quiet, peaceful breathing. Watching her chest rise and fall, white moonlight spilling through the blinds and bathing her in an angelic glow.
Fuck, she’s beautiful.
Every once in a while, she stirs. Curling up closer, her arm flings over me. A leg twines with mine, her foot tickling my calf. By dawn, she’s got me in a tight grip, climbing me like a tree.
Surprisingly, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I like it. Although I’m gonna be tired today since I spent most of the night watching her sleep.
“Morning, Firecracker.” I brush a golden curl off her forehead as she blinks her eyes open.
“You stayed.”
I nod. “Told you I would. So I did.”
Her neck bobs as she swallows, cheeks tinting a soft shade of pink.
“Besides, I didn’t have much of a choice. The way you have me pinned down here.” I pretend to try to wriggle out of her grasp and she flexes her arm muscles, squeezing me like a boa constrictor.
She giggles and the sound washes over me like a gentle ocean wave. I’m more relaxed than I’ve been in ages.
I didn’t think I could do this again. But here we are.
Her delicate fingers feather over my bare chest, sending tiny sparks over the entire surface of my skin, and my dick twitches beneath the sheets.
“Well, good morning.” Gracelyn reaches down and strokes me, her eyes glimmering as she teases me. “This is the perk of the sleepover, you know.”
“In that case, you’ve convinced me to move in,” I joke, caressing her round ass.
I really could get used to this.
“Whoa, there, cowboy. Nobody said anything about moving in.” She pops up and straddles my hips, dipping her head down and kissing me on the lips. Soft and slow, her mouth moves over mine as I massage her bare bottom.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Gracelyn breaks away to silence her alarm. “Shit, it’s late. I have to get to work.”
“Too bad. Because I had much better plans for you.” I squeeze her ass and she shakes her head.
“Sounds more promising than Mrs. Humphries’s full color I have scheduled. But my mom will be pissed if I’m late. Would you mind giving me a ride to work? My car’s still at Mustang’s.”
“Sure. You want to pick up your car?”
“No time.” She rolls off me, already buzzing around the room getting ready. “I’ll worry about it later. I’m supposed to be there in ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Her head disappears into the closet, so I take that as my cue, climbing out of bed and gathering up my clothes.
Remarkably, she only takes eight. I pegged her as more high maintenance, seeing as how she always looks stunning. But she flits around and gets ready in record time. She locks the front door and I loop my arm around her waist as we walk out to my truck.
The movement’s natural, instinctive, and the realization hits me hard straight in the chest. Much as I’ve been fighting all things relationship, she’s a perfect fit beneath my arm.
“What’s on tap for you today?” She glances over the console and something inside me shifts, unlocks.
I want to be with this woman. Spend time with her, find out what she likes, what makes her tick.
I want to make her laugh and smile.
I want to make her happy.
But instead of going sappy on her, I drum my fingers on the worn leather steering wheel and play it cool.
“Not much. Figure I’ll work on fixing the salon chair.”
Her full, glossy lips break into a smile. “Okay, good. My mother will be happy about that. She’s super concerned we don’t have enough seating. Not sure why, considering I book the appointments and make sure we never need to use the eggplant throne—that’s what I call it …”
Her hands fly through the air as she explains the situation and I can’t help but chuckle.
“What? Why are you laughing?” She scrunches up her nose, scowling.
“Nothing. You’re cute is all. Did you always want to be a hairstylist?”
She nods. “Yeah. Well, mostly. I went through a phase in the fourth grade where I was obsessed with animals and wanted to be a veterinarian. Then a kid told me about his dog having cancer and taking him to the vet to get put down. Changed my mind real quick.”
“Oh. Yeah, that’s a tough one.” I sneak a quick glance at her, the apples of her cheeks rosy, a beam of sunlight dancing across her thigh.
“What?” She knocks me in the arm.
“Just admiring you.”
“St-op.” Gracelyn draws out the word, rolling her eyes and blushing. “What made you get into carpentry? Your love of drilling, pounding, and screwing?”
I chuckle. “Something like that. I always loved working with my hands and building stuff. I used to woodwork with my grandpa. Seemed like as good a job as any and I was pretty good at it.”
“I saw the bookshelf you built for Josh and Lindsey in their nursery the other day. It was lovely.”
“Thanks.” Pride fills my chest as I pull up to the curb, dropping her off directly in front of the salon. “I wanted the two of them to have something special. For the baby.”
She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “That’s so sweet, Mack.”
I shrug, playing down my emotions. “Don’t tell anyone. Can’t have my tough guy reputation getting tanked.” I wink as she hops out of the truck, slamming the door closed behind her. “How long you working today?”
She pauses on the sidewalk to check her calendar. “My last client’s at five. Should be done around seven.”
“I’ll call you after work then.”
In one quick step, she leans through the open window of the truck and kisses me on the mouth. She tastes like vanilla, her lips soft and warm.
“Have a great day, Mack,” she murmurs.
“You too, Firecracker.”
Then she sashays up the stairs and disappears into the salon, leaving me wanting more for the first time in as long as I can remember.
* * *
The weekend passes by in a blur of Gracelyn. We talk, watch television, eat some food. Mostly, though, we spend a lot of time kissing and naked in bed.
It’s the best weekend I can remember.
Monday rolls around and I feel like I have a Gracelyn hangover as I settle into the work week. I slog through the day, finally finishing the cabinets I’ve been working on for what feels like months. Then I go over to the high school for football practice. We’re wrapping things up when Carter asks Baker and me about our plans for the evening.
“You boys in for the game tonight?” Carter ties the mesh equipment bag and peers in our direction.
Nine times out of ten, at least one of us joins him for Monday night football. But hanging with the boys isn’t on my agenda this evening.
“I have tests to grade, sorry. Wish I could. See y’all later.” Baker jingles his keys and waves goodbye, not looking overly apologetic.
“Mack? You in?” Carter cuts his eyes at me, adjusting his ball cap.
“Can’t. I have to make a delivery after practice.” I scrub my hand over the back of my neck and avoid eye contact. Last thing I want here is an interrogation.
“That shouldn’t take too long. You could always head over once you’re done.” He shoves a hand in his pocket and waits.
Shuffling from foot to foot, I try to figure a way out of the situation. I don’t want to bring up Gracelyn yet—the whole thing’s too new, too fresh to be a topic of conversation. Not to mention I still feel weird dating the best friend of his daughter.
“May take a while.”
“Hmmm…” Carter presses his lips together, searching my face for answers.
I squirm under his intense stare, kick at a loose patch of grass with the toe of my sneaker.
“Where’s the delivery?”
“The salon. Plumb Perfect.”
“That’s next door to you.” Carter points out the obvious, and my gut churns as he waits for a logical explanation.
Because he’s correct—normally, a delivery to the salon would take five minutes. But now, with Gracelyn in the picture, I doubt that’s how things will go down.
At least, I really hope not.
“I might be getting a haircut.” I pull the lie straight out of my ass.
“Really? Interesting. Mrs. Reynolds paying you in haircuts?”
Heat creeps up my neck and I can’t make eye contact with Carter. “No, don’t think so.”
“Hmm. I didn’t think she’d be working this late.”
Damn, this guy’s not letting it go.
“Not her. Gracelyn.” I keep my voice neutral, not giving anything away.
“Gracelyn? Sloane’s friend?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Interesting.” The corner of his lip curves up and I’m grateful Baker already left. Carter’s discreet and probably won’t ask any more questions. Baker would never have let this go.
“We can catch the game on Sunday night, probably.”
Coach nods, picking up the equipment bag. “Okay.”
He starts walking away from me, toward the office. After a few steps, he calls over his shoulder. “Better check with Gracelyn.”
Then, smirking, he walks away.
Jackass.
That’s why I love the guy, though. He’s smart as hell, picking up on every little detail. But he doesn’t pry and minds his own business, which I appreciate.
The man’s a legend in my book.
Chuckling to myself, I hustle to my truck and drive home to pick up the chair.