17. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 17
GRACELYN
W ell, that was one way to break the news to my mother. Direct and to the point.
I catch a quick glimpse of Mack in the mirror, his expression blank.
Maybe I should have run this by him first.
It’s fine, my mom was going to find out anyway .
“Uh…” Mack stammers.
I’ve never seen him at a loss for words and if I wasn’t low-key freaking out inside, it would be kinda funny.
“Sure, I can stay.”
“Great.” My mom rubs her hands together with delight, her face lighting up like it’s Christmas day. “I’ll get started on dinner then.”
She beams at the two of us one more time before spinning and gliding out of the room, humming softly.
I huff out a long breath, shaking my head. “Sorry about that. We probably should have discussed if and when we were telling people about us. I don’t even know if we’re exclusive…” My voice trails off, heat flaming my face.
“Probably should have talked about it, yeah. But it’s absolutely fine, Gracelyn. Better to get everything out in the open.” Mack’s deep voice is calm and steady, the low timbre soothing my amped-up nerves. He locks eyes with me in the mirror. “And I’m exclusive, at least. I’m too old to play games. Other than football.”
Whew. I didn’t just blow it. Everything’s fine.
Warmth spreads through me at his reassurance and my entire body feels lighter with the weight of sneaking around lifted off my shoulders.
“Good. We’re on the same page then. Because I’m not seeing anyone else, either.”
“So no more frat bros for you?” Mack teases.
“Why? Were you jealous?” I run my fingers through his hair, resuming the cut.
“Hell yeah, I was. I don’t want anyone flirting with you—touching you—besides me.”
His eyes flash, then darken, and my belly gets all fluttery. I don’t think I’ve ever made anyone jealous before.
“Okay, Daddy,” I joke, fluttering my lashes, and his hand darts out from beneath the cape and grips my ass. He squeezes and my body instantly responds, my core throbbing.
“If you want me to make it through dinner with your mother, you better not call me that right now.” He growls the words and dampness floods my panties as his hands work my curves, caressing me.
“Fine.” I pop my lip out in a pretend pout. “I’ll save it for later, how about that?”
“Deal.”
“Now stop feeling me up so I can finish cutting your hair. Especially if you value your ears.”
With a throaty chuckle, he slides his hand away from my body and beneath the cape and I get back to work on his hair. A few minutes later, I’m all finished and dusting the strays from his neck.
“How’s that?” I offer him a hand mirror before spinning the chair around so he can inspect the back.
“Looks good, Firecracker. Thanks.”
Mack lowers the mirror and shakes the cape, sandy hair floating to the ground. Then he pulls me onto his lap. I squeal and slap at his broad chest, laughing and kicking my feet.
“What are you doing?”
He answers with a hot kiss, cupping my chin and claiming my mouth with his. I sink into him and get lost in the moment, his strong arms holding me tight against his body. After a long minute, he pulls away and runs his thumb over my lower lip, his gaze serious.
“Kissing my girlfriend.”
My stomach swoops.
Girlfriend.
It’s been a hot minute since anyone’s referred to me as his girlfriend. And it’s never been someone as gorgeous as Mack.
Be careful, Gracelyn. You’re not girlfriend material, not really.
A warning voice chides, but I silence the inner bitch. I’m tired of listening to her. Everything about this—about us—feels right. So, so right. Better than anything I’ve ever known.
Now’s not the time to stop taking chances.
“Oh, I like the sound of that, Daddy.”
Mack growls, his pupils growing wider and impossibly dark as he squeezes my upper thigh. A bolt of pleasure zings straight to my clit.
“What did I tell you about that? Pretty sure your mom’s gonna notice if we don’t make it to dinner. But if you keep it up, I’m not going to be able to resist burying myself in your sweet little pussy.”
Heat unfurls in my belly as a soft groan falls from my lips.
“Right, dinner. Let’s eat fast, okay? No need to play twenty questions with my mother. Besides, I’d much rather skip to dessert.” I trace my tongue along my lower lip seductively and now it’s Mack’s turn to groan.
“You really don’t want to get to dinner, do you, Firecracker?”
I giggle, wiggling out of his grasp and standing. “Not really. But I’ll never hear the end of it from my mother. C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
Unclasping the cape, I free Mack from the salon chair and sweep up as quickly as I can. Then I take him by the hand and lead him through the salon to the kitchen.
Rounding into the bright room, I immediately regret the impromptu invite.
My mother’s set out my grandmother’s good china and a bottle of champagne’s chilling on the counter.
Tell me it’s been forever since you’ve had a boyfriend without telling me it’s been forever since you’ve had a boyfriend.
“Mom, you didn’t need to go to all this trouble.” I motion at the decked-out table, the white linen napkins and the champagne flutes.
“What? Of course I did! It’s not every day that your only daughter brings home a handsome boyfriend!” My mom bats her eyes at Mack, and hot humiliation washes over me.
“Thanks, Mrs. Reynolds. I didn’t mean to put you out, though. Anything I can do to help?” Mack tips his head toward my mom standing at the stove, his voice sincere.
“No, no, definitely not. Have a seat and Gracie will get you a drink.” My mom waves her hand in my direction, not-at-all subtly directing me to open the champagne.
Good gravy.
This is beyond embarrassing. Honestly, I’d love to melt into the wooden floorboards right now and disappear until after dinner’s over.
Since that’s not a feasible option, I grab the wine from the counter and peel off the foil wrapper. Wedging the bottle against my stomach, I aim away from Mack and my mom and try to pry the cork out.
It doesn’t budge, not even a little bit.
“Shit,” I mutter, yanking at the stopper. I struggle for another solid thirty seconds and sweat beads at my hairline.
“Let me.” Mack stands and takes the champagne from my hands, wiggling the cork from side to side before popping it off. A tiny sigh escapes from the bottle along with an exhale of white mist.
Damn. He made that look easy.
I snag the flutes from the table, and he pours each of us a glass of sparkly champagne.
“Thanks.” I accept the beverage gratefully, downing half of the wine before he sets the bottle down. Figure I’m going to need the liquid boost to sit through this meal.
“So…how long have you two been together?” My mom screws up her lips and gives me a pointed stare.
Mack clears his throat and takes a big slug of his drink, so I field question number one.
“A little while. Not long really. Although if Jamie Ware happens to mention it, we’ve been together since this summer.”
“This summer?” My mom’s brows crush in confusion. “What?”
“It’s a long and twisty story.” I shake my head and Mack chuckles. “Don’t worry about the details.”
“Hmmm.” My mother shoots me a disapproving look, then pivots back to the saucepan. “Dinner is ready.”
Turning off the heat, she brings the spaghetti sauce and pasta over to the table. I grab the salad and a basket of garlic bread, and the three of us settle in for dinner.
“Smells great, Mrs. Reynolds. Thanks for cooking.” Mack spreads his napkin over his lap, perfectly at ease sitting down to a semi-formal dinner with my mother.
“Oh, my pleasure. I’m always happy to entertain Gracie’s friends.” She puts special emphasis on the word friends , beaming at him, and a tiny part of me dies inside.
This is so fucking awkward. Reminding me exactly why I don’t introduce guys to my mom and I sure as hell don’t have them over for dinner. Well, that and the fact that no guy ever sticks around long enough to get invited.
“Please, go ahead and start.” My mother slides the salad bowl across to Mack, and I reach over and pluck a piece of garlic bread from the basket. Shooting me the evil eye, she snatches the basket away and offers it to Mack instead. “Fresh bread?”
Oh geez. Now she’s acting like the perfect Southern hostess, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Dinner with my mom typically involves the microwave and some frozen entrée we shovel straight out of the plastic container onto paper plates.
Holding in my eye roll, I chug the rest of my champagne and pour another glass.
“Want some?” I slosh the bottle in the air at Mack.
“I’m good for now.”
“Suit yourself.” I sip at the golden bubbly and wait until Mack’s plate is full before I attempt to serve myself.
“So Mack, tell me about your future plans.” Mom twirls spaghetti on her fork as I turn the same shade as the tomato sauce.
“Mom—” I hiss, kicking her foot under the table.
Mack ignores the kerfuffle and the rattling plates, taking the interrogation in stride.
“What do you want to know?”
“Oh, anything. You’re planning on staying in Thunder Creek, right?”
He nods. “Yes, ma’am. I have no intention of moving anytime soon. Business is good and I’m happy at the high school.”
“That’s great.” Mom beams at him, her head bobbing up and down like a plastic bobblehead figurine on the dashboard. “And what about family?” She cocks a brow at him and it’s official. I’m literally dying. Call 911. Actually, please don’t. I’d rather not be resuscitated after this. I’m way too mortified.
“My family all lives in Augusta.” Mack dodges the question my mother intended—the one about his plans for a family—instead focusing on his parents.
Well played, Mack. Well played.
“Lovely area down there. Who all’s down there? You mom and dad? Any brothers or sisters?”
“One younger sister, a few years behind me.”
“Older than Gracie, though.”
Oh for fuck’s sake.
“Yes, older than Gracelyn. But only by a few years.”
“And do you want children? In the future?”
“Mother!” My fork clatters to my plate at her audacity. “Leave him alone.”
“It’s fine. I never seriously considered having a family before. But I’m not ruling it out.”
My mom’s mouth tips up into a slow smile. “Good to hear. Gracie’s my only child and I’ve been patiently waiting for a grandbaby.”
“No pressure…” I grumble, staring at my spaghetti. My stomach churns as I wilt with humiliation, way too stressed to eat. I thought the baby talk would be postponed at least one dinner, but I guess I overestimated my mother.
“I wanted more children…” Mom gazes wistfully into space. “But then Gracie’s father got sick and passed.”
“I’m sorry.” Mack shifts in his seat. Probably regretting his acceptance of the dinner invitation. We went from babies to death in one quick zigzag.
This is way more than he bargained for.
Mom waves her hand, the fork zipping through the air. “What’s done is done. It wasn’t meant to be. But I am looking forward to some baby Gracies running around.”
“Oh-kay…” I interrupt before she flat-out asks about a wedding date. “Mom, I saw Mrs. Gillingham at the drugstore. She told me the two of you were going to be playing pickleball together.”
“Yes, we are! She’s starting up a Ladies League. You should come—it’s great exercise and we have a nice group.”
A vision of chasing around after a yellow ball, sweating my ass off with my mom’s friends pops into my head.
“Thanks for the invite, I’ll keep it in mind.” I set my fork down, shoving my plate away. “Dinner was great, Mom. Can I help with the dishes?”
“No, no. You and Mack relax. I’ll put on some coffee and we can have dessert.”
“Oh, I’m stuffed, Mrs. Reynolds. The pasta was fantastic, but I can’t eat another bite.” Mack folds his napkin into a tidy square.
“Same. I hate to eat and run, Mom. But I’ve got to get going.” I shove away from the table and start stacking plates.
“So soon?” Mom pops her lip out in a full-on pout.
“Yeah. It’s been a long day.”
“Alright. Leave the plates, I can clean up. It was wonderful seeing you, Mack. Don’t be a stranger!”
To my horror, my mother pops out of her chair and gives Mack a tight squeeze. He clumsily pats her shoulder with his huge hand.
“Great seeing you as well, Mrs. Reynolds. Thanks for having me.”
I rush to his rescue before my mother starts stroking his chest or doing something else equally embarrassing.
“Hate to break this up, but I’ve got to get going. C’mon, Mack.” I untangle the two of them and drag Mack out of the kitchen, saving him from the lovefest.
“Sorry about that,” I murmur as he laces his fingers with mine.
“It’s fine. I like your mom.” He squeezes my hand and I feel slightly better about the dinner.
“She can be a lot.”
“Y’all are so different.” Mack glances at me, chuckling, and I elbow him hard in the ribs.
“Not funny. You giving me a ride home or what?” I stare out at the street, remembering my car’s still in the lot at Mustang’s.
“Can you drive?” Mack asks and I remember the half bottle of champagne I chugged at dinner.
“Good point. Probably not.”
“You can stay over.” His voice is low, his pupils wide. Almost like he’s nervous to ask me.
Heart pounding hard, my stomach flip-flops.
Mack invited me to stay the night with him.
“You sure?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t sure, Firecracker. Or you can stay with your mom, if you’d rather.”
“I’ll stay with you.”
“Good. For a second there, I thought I might lose out to your mother.”
His lips quirk and I laugh, my chest light and my heart lighter. Despite my mom’s best efforts, Mack doesn’t seem like he’s changing his mind about us.
Us.
I really, really like the sound of that.