22. Gracelyn
CHAPTER 22
GRACELYN
M ack wasn’t kidding when he said football season is busy. Between work, practice, and games, the two of us have pretty jam-packed schedules. Since Homecoming, we’ve both been swamped and have had to squeeze in stolen late-night moments.
I’m between clients, sweeping the floor, when Mack wanders into the salon on Saturday morning.
“Hey.” He sneaks up on me, wrapping strong arms around my waist and nuzzling my neck. He smells like soap and freshly cut wood, my tummy swooping at his touch.
“Hey yourself, handsome. What are you doing over here? I still have a few hours left.” I lean back, giving him a quick peck on the lips.
“You sure about that?” His deep voice vibrates on my skin and a delicious shiver rolls straight down my spine. I unwind from his embrace to check the appointment calendar on my phone.
Scrolling through the rest of the day, I frown. “Weird. This never happens. I don’t have any more appointments. And I could have sworn I did, too. Sally Anne was coming in for a bridal consult.”
“Guess it’s my lucky day. Hang up your apron, I have something planned for us.” He reaches around and unties my cape.
I bite my bottom lip and narrow my eyes. “You do, huh? This is all starting to feel a bit too coincidental.”
He shrugs, the corners of his lips tipping up. “I may have asked your mother for a little help clearing your schedule.”
“Mack!” I swat at his broad chest, warm happiness surging through me. “Y’all conspired together?”
“Yep. Sorry, not sorry. I know we’ve both been busy. And I wanted to take my girl out on a proper date.” He grabs my hips, pulling me up against him. My cheeks flush as he kisses me softly on the lips, right there in the salon in front of Mrs. Smith and Mrs. Taylor sitting under the dryers.
“Aww, you’re so sweet. Let me hang up my cape and we can get out of here.” I sashay away, giving my mom a quick squeeze on the way out the door. “Thanks, Mama. Love you.”
“Love you too, Gracie girl. Have a nice time.” She beams at me and my chest aches a little. She’s the best mom, always looking out for me. She’ll have double the work today now, but she still wants me to go and have a good time with Mack.
“Ready?” Mack takes my hand, and I smile up at him as we head out to his truck.
“Where are we going? What are we doing?” My mind’s zipping at a mile a minute, whirring through all the possibilities. Excitement zings through me as he pulls away from the curb.
“Thought we’d have a low-key day, just the two of us. Hit the farmer’s market, then I’ll cook us a nice dinner at my place.”
“Sounds amazing.” I sit back in the warm leather seat, his huge palm on my thigh, perfectly content as we drive through the neighborhood. We pass house after familiar house, some decorated for the season with oversized autumn wreaths adorning the doors.
The more time Mack and I spend together, the better everything between us feels. Like we were made for each other. He complements me—bringing the calm to my storm, while I pull out the lighter side of him that’s buried way deep down.
A few minutes later, we pull up to the town square and Mack parks the truck. White tents dot the lawn, local farmers, florists, and craftspeople selling their wares.
“Oh, I love the farmer’s market!” I beam at him as he takes my hand and helps me down. “I hardly ever get to come, but when I do it’s always a good time. Hey there, Janie!” I wave to a woman and her toddler and she shoots me a friendly smile.
“Hey, Gracelyn. Great to see you! Love my new look!” Janie smooths her dark hair over her shoulders, and I grin.
“I cut her hair last week. It’s a new style and I think it’s working for her.” I point out the change to Mack and he nods.
“Nice.”
Looping his arm around my waist, together we walk across the grass toward the tents. About ten vendors fill the main square, with a few food trucks set up across the field.
“Let’s shop, then grab a bite. After, we can head back to my place and chill until dinner.”
“Perfect.” I lean into him and sigh contentedly, loving how his strong body feels against mine. We pass by face after familiar face. Faces I’ve known since childhood, yet the entire world seems different right now. New and shiny and full of possibilities.
“I picked steaks up from the grocery and I’ll grill them for us. But we need to get vegetables and maybe some bread, a dessert.” Mack steers us toward the fruit and veggies at the far end of the market.
Pumpkins of all sizes, squash and zucchini, green beans, tomatoes, and a variety of lettuce spill from large wooden milk crates.
“Hello, Gracelyn. Mack.” Beau Milford tips his head at us, touching the brim of his worn baseball cap. He’s farmed the land on the outskirts of Thunder Creek for as long as I can remember. The farm’s been in his family for generations, providing food to the local grocers in the surrounding counties as well.
“Hey there, Mr. Milford. What would you recommend today?” I survey the selection of tasty vegetables, plucking a bright yellow squash out of the crate.
“Squash is in season. Good choice this time of year. Also the best crop of apples we’ve had in a while.” He reaches into a round wooden container and tosses a shiny red apple to Mack.
“Oh, yes! I can make a good apple crisp. Let’s get some apples, and squash sounds good.” I peer up at Mack, gauging his response to the plan.
“That works, as long as you’re on the apple crisp. I don’t know much about baking.”
I laugh. “I’ve got you.”
Mr. Milford bags up the squash and apples for us and we move on, checking out handmade jewelry, crocheted blankets, goat cheese and milk, and a nice selection of soaps.
“I think we should grab a loaf of bread, too.” Mack stops at the bakery display, the table overflowing with fresh bread, homemade biscuits, and a nice selection of jams.
“Yes, love it.” I snatch a loaf of sourdough from the pile.
“That would go great with this peach jam. Try it.” Deb Hatter, one of my mom’s clients and the local baker extraordinaire, holds out a tiny wooden spoon. Mack takes the spoon from her and lifts it up.
“Taste it, Gracelyn.” Mack’s husky voice, the way his eyes gleam as he slides the jam into my mouth, sends an electric ripple straight through me.
“Mmm, good,” I murmur, licking the sweet jam from my lips as I hold his heated gaze. “Perfect.”
Ignoring Deb Hatter, Mack dips down and kisses my sticky lips. Trailing his tongue along the seam, the lingering saccharine scent of peaches mixes with his aftershave. I moan softly into his mouth, the farmer’s market falling away until it’s just me and Mack standing there, lost in each other.
Finally, he pulls away, swiping his thumb lightly across my bottom lip before turning back to a flustered Mrs. Hatter.
“We’ll take the jam and the bread.” Mack pays, loading our purchase into the shopping bags filled with produce. “You ready to get some lunch?”
“Sure.” I lace my fingers with his and together we cross the field toward the food trucks. We dodge a group of children in a boisterous game of tag, their arms outstretched as they race after each other, laughing.
“That’ll be Josh and Lindsey soon.” I glance over at the parents standing nearby, watching over their kiddos playing on the lawn.
Mack rolls his shoulders, his face staying neutral. “Yep. Hard to believe.”
“I know. Lindsey’s my first close friend to have a baby.” I sigh wistfully as one of the little boys runs up to his mom and hugs her at the knees.
Mack rubs his thumb across mine. “Do you want to have kids?”
“I think so. Not, like, tomorrow or anything. But some day in the future.” I bite my lower lip, suddenly feeling vulnerable. I haven’t really talked to anyone about this before—my previous relationships never lasted long enough to entertain a serious conversation like this.
I glance over at him. “What about you?”
He shrugs, his broad shoulders rising. “I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a dad.”
“Why?”
“No particular reason, really. I just feel like I’d mess a kid up.” The laugh lines around his eyes crinkle as he squints out at the raucous game.
“I don’t think that at all. I bet you’d be a great dad. You’re good with the football team. Plus, you have real life skills. Any child would be lucky to have you as a father.”
His face relaxes and he squeezes my hand. “Thanks, Gracelyn. I appreciate that.”
“I’m not just saying that, either. You have all the best dad qualities: you’re patient, relaxed, funny, and smart. And you know how to build stuff.”
He chuckles as we join the taco line. “I do know how to build stuff. I’m assuming you want tacos?”
“You know it.” I smile up at him as a tidal wave of happiness washes over me.
I love this man.
He’s strong, yet gentle. Warm, but tough when he needs to be. And he gets me, truly gets me. Because of course I’m picking tacos.
“I love you.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, a bolt of panic racing through me.
Because what if it’s too soon?
“I love you too, Gracelyn.” Mack snakes his hand around the nape of my neck, bringing his lips down to mine in a soft, slow kiss.
A kiss that means something.
This man is it for me.
Pure, unadulterated joy floods through me, and I’m soaring, my entire body light and airy and bright. I’ve never felt like this before, so free and happy.
“Thanks for an amazing date,” I murmur against his lips.
“You’re welcome. I know it’s nothing fancy, but I wanted to spend time with you. Just the two of us.” He cups my cheek with his large palm and I melt into him.
“Well, the two of us and half of Thunder Creek,” I giggle as one of the kids whizzes by, laughing and screaming.
His laugh rumbles through me, vibrating against my chest. “Figured I needed to let everyone in town know you’re off the market.”
He winks and it’s official—I’ve never been happier in my life.