29. Mack
CHAPTER 29
MACK
N ever have I ever endured a more painful dinner at the club than the one tonight.
Things started badly and spiraled down from there. The second I set foot inside the stuffy clubhouse—all oak, scotch, and old money—people rushed up to greet me.
Not the current me, carpenter and high school football coach me.
Nope.
The old me. College football star and eldest son of the McIntires.
Worse, Tinsley standing with the family sent all the wrong signals. Guess the town’s collective memory is long.
“Mack, so good to see you, my boy!” Dr. Franklin, my former pediatrician, hops up from the brown leather couch in the main lobby and slaps me on the back. “Tinsley.” He tips his graying head at Tinsley, and she beams at him like she’s Miss damn Augusta or something.
“Hello, Dr. Franklin. You’re looking mighty fine this evening.” She bats her lashes at him, and Gracelyn stiffens beside me.
“Why, thank you.”
I swear Dr. Franklin blushes at the compliment. Before I get a chance to introduce Gracelyn, he spins to my father and launches into a long diatribe about malpractice insurance.
“We should check in.” My mother glances at her watch, tapping the sparkly crystal-encrusted timepiece. “I hate being late for our reservation.”
“I’ll do it,” I happily volunteer. Anything to stay under the radar.
With one hand hovering at Gracelyn’s low back, we move away from the family.
“Wow. This place is historic, huh?” Gracelyn peers up at the light oak-planked, vaulted ceiling as we walk toward the dining room.
“Yes. One of the oldest country clubs in the South. Lots of out-of-date traditions abound.”
“I sense you’re a big fan.”
“Huge. Love the men-only dining room and the mandatory dinner jacket rule.”
“Seriously? That’s a thing?”
I nod. “Yep. Welcome to 1950.”
The college-aged blonde at the hostess stand smiles widely at me, teeth sparkling white under the light from the chandelier.
“McIntire.” I give the name and she bobs her head.
“Of course, Mr. McIntire. I recognized you when you walked up. We have your table ready whenever you are.”
Good grief.
The hostess gathers the menus, ducking behind the stand to grab silverware. Gracelyn leans in, her floral cologne winding around me as she whispers in my ear.
“How does she know who you are?”
“There’s photos somewhere around here.”
“Here?” Gracelyn scrunches her nose. “In the clubhouse?”
I shrug. “Won the father-son golf tournament two years in a row back in college.”
“Oh my gosh. You’re a local celeb.” Gracelyn grins, fanning herself. “I didn’t know I was dating a celebrity.”
“I assure you, you are not.”
“Are you ready, Mr. McIntire?” The hostess gazes up at me through her long, fake lashes.
I hate when people call me mister. Makes me feel a hundred years old.
“Yes.” My mother answers for me, the rest of the family appearing behind us.
“Right this way.”
The hostess leads us through the bar area into the main dining room. No less than five people stop me on the way, chatting and saying hello to me and my dad. By the time I make it to the table, everyone’s seated. My mother at one end with a spot for my father at the other. Tinsley’s next to my mother and Emma Kate’s beside her. There are two open spots left for Gracelyn and me. I hesitate for a moment, trying to decide where Gracelyn would rather sit—next to my mother or my father. My hand’s on the back of the chair next to my dad when my mom chimes in.
“Grace, dear. Have a seat next to me.” She pats the menu at the place setting beside her, and I swallow down my grimace.
Okay then. Decision made.
I pull out the chair and Gracelyn slides in, plucking the napkin from beneath the menu and spreading it over her lap.
A waiter appears and offers us water, then a sommelier stops by with the wine list.
“Yes, we’ll take a bottle.” My dad peruses the chunky folio of wines. “How about this one? The Cab from Sonoma?”
“Excellent choice, sir. I’ll bring it right out.” He scurries away and I chug my water, suddenly parched.
“I trust the guesthouse is acceptable.” My mother peers at Gracelyn, one of her brows arched.
Thankfully, she either doesn’t know I moved out there too or is brushing over it for the sake of peace. More than likely the former, but I’m not going to bring it up.
“Yes, thank you. The guesthouse is lovely.” Gracelyn smiles at my mom, but she’s already glancing down at the menu. Gracelyn ducks her head quickly, cheeks flushing.
Damn, this is fucking painful.
Mercifully, the wine materializes, and we all raise our glasses in a toast.
“To time with family—and friends who feel like family.” My dad nods first at Tinsley, then at Gracelyn, and my gut twists. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. Hopefully, Gracelyn didn’t notice the slight. She seems preoccupied with the menu.
“What’s good here?” she asks, setting her wineglass down.
“Everything,” Emma Kate says. Always so very helpful.
“I like the duck. Or the steak.” I point to both selections on the menu, and Gracelyn shoots me a grateful look.
“So, Gracelyn, what’s your family doing for the holidays?” Emma Kate swirls her wineglass around, the red liquid sloshing dangerously close to the edge.
“Um…my mom’s having Thanksgiving with her friend.” Gracelyn fiddles with the stack of silver bangles on her wrist.
“Oh. It’s only the two of you then?” Emma Kate forges on, digging for details like the nosy little sister she’s always been.
“Yes, just the two of us.” Grace shifts in her chair, leaning back a touch.
“No annoying brother then?” Emma Kate scowls across the table at me.
“No. I always wanted a sibling. But that never happened.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Emma Kate says, rolling her eyes at me. I know she’s teasing, but Gracelyn’s face falls. I quickly change the subject.
“Emma Kate, read any good books lately?”
She snorts, covering her mouth with her hand to catch any errant spray. “God, no. I haven’t read a book since college.”
I kick Gracelyn’s foot under the table, and she glances over at me, lips tipping up slightly.
“Have you, Mack?” Tinsley locks eyes with me across the table, her pupils wide and dark, and my gut clenches.
“Only if you count the high school playbook. I’ve been pretty busy.”
“You found time to date.” Tinsley runs her finger along the rim of her glass, then takes a slow sip of wine, her gaze searing into me.
I glare across the table at her, my muscles tight and my body cold. This night’s already been long and insufferable, and Tinsley’s presence is only making it worse. I’d love to take off my jacket, but that’s not allowed in the main dining room. Instead, I down the rest of my wine in one long slug.
The waiter appears, cutting the tension. Everyone places their order, wineglasses are refilled. A few people stop by the table to chat, clapping me on the back and talking about the football glory days.
From the corner of my eye, I watch as Gracelyn tries to join the ladies’ conversation. But Emma Kate and Tinsley start talking about a few of their sorority sisters. That leaves Gracelyn with my mother.
Not ideal.
“You and your mother work together?” My mom steeples her fingers.
“Yes, ma’am. We own a popular salon in Thunder Creek.” Gracelyn’s cheeks turn pink and she’s animated for the first time since we got to the club.
“That’s nice. What’s the name of the shop?”
“Plumb Perfect.”
“How quaint.” My mother gives Gracelyn a tight smile and a nod.
“It’s a sweet little spot. I enjoy what I do.”
“That’s lovely. Ulysses always says the same thing. Although we do wish he would have done more, with all the advantages he’s enjoyed.”
I tense, one fist clenched beneath the table. Ever since I moved to Thunder Creek, I’ve been hearing about what a disappointment I am.
It’s exhausting.
But now’s not the time for yet another confrontation. I gloss over the jab, pretending I didn’t hear. The food arrives and conversation slows, all attention on the entrees.
I’m cutting into my filet when I feel a slight bump against my leg. Then a bare foot snakes up my ankle, rubbing beneath my pants.
Is Gracelyn playing footsie with me at the club with my mother sitting next to her?
I sneak a quick glance over at her, but she’s engrossed in her Cobb salad. Stabbing a leaf of lettuce with her fork, she’s not paying any attention to me at all. I lift my eyes and Tinsley winks at me, so quickly I’m positive no one else saw.
What the hell?
Jerking my leg away, I ram my knee against the table. Hard. Glasses wobble and silverware rattles on the plates.
“Oww.” I massage my bruising kneecap, trying to ease the pain.
“Ulysses, are you alright?” My mother’s eyes widen with concern.
“Yeah, just a Charley horse. I’ll go walk it off.” I shove away from the table, eager to get some fresh air.
“I’ll come with you. I need to use the ladies’ room.” Tinsley stands before I have a chance to protest or escape alone.
Wonderful.
Gracelyn bites at her lip, shooting me a worried glance.
“I’ll be fine.” I squeeze her arm reassuringly.
“You need me to come with you?” Her voice tips up.
“He used to get those things all the time, Gracie. He’ll be fine,” Dad says, ripping off a piece of bread and cramming the carb into his mouth.
“Okay.”
I pat Gracelyn’s arm one more time, then limp out of the dining room with Tinsley hot on my heels. She inches closer to me, our arms brushing, and I step further away. When we pass the restrooms, I anticipate her ducking in, but she doesn’t.
“Thought you had to go to the bathroom?” I jerk my head at the restroom door.
“And I thought you were giving me a signal that you wanted to talk to me.”
I shove my hand in my suit pocket, jaw tense. “No. What I want you to do is leave me the hell alone.”
“Oh, c’mon, Mack. You can’t still be upset over what happened between us.” She flips her long hair over her shoulder. “That was ages ago.”
“I’m not upset. In fact, I don’t care at all. It’s over and done with as far as I’m concerned.”
Hand tracing her collarbone, she presses in closer to me. “You can honestly say you don’t have any feelings toward me still?” She brushes her fingers over my dress shirt, trailing across my pec, and I jerk away.
“Oh, I have feelings. But they’re not positive ones.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes and her lower lip quivers. “Really? I remember all the fun we had together. The night we swam in the fountain, then you took me to your dorm and made love to me.” She feathers her hand over my forearm and my stomach roils, steak and wine and anger churning together.
“Tinsley. I’m not interested in this walk down memory lane with you. I’m not interested in you at all. I’m with Gracelyn now and I’m happy.”
Her face hardens, jaw tensing and dark eyes going cold.
“You’re making a huge mistake, Mack. How can someone like you be with someone like her?” Tinsley’s voice rises, her harsh words echoing off the high ceiling.
“Mack? You okay?”
I spin to face Gracelyn, guilt flooding through me as I back away from Tinsley.
How much did she hear?