Chapter 6
six
brADY
The crowd in the main dining room of Carter Bistro was loud for a weeknight. Folks sat along the bar that curved through the center of the space. All the booths that lined the perimeter were full of people I didn’t recognize. Servers dashed in and out, balancing glasses of wine and trays of pasta, steaks, and Southern staples with a twist.
The restaurant probably had reservations until closing time for the next two weeks. But that was prime tourist season for you. The leaves were nearly at their peak, so visitors to Kirby Falls would be plentiful for the next little stretch, eager to take in our famed foliage.
Abby had a front-of-house shift at Carter Bistro tonight, and he’d told me to stop by for a drink. I planned on at least begging an appetizer off him. His chef made the best hush puppies and served them with this amazing chipotle honey butter.
Carter Bistro was just one of Cole Abernathy’s many business ventures. He had his hand in stuff all over town. But this restaurant was the first one he ever opened, and it probably meant the most. It had a prime location, smack-dab in the middle of Main Street, just across the way from the municipal courthouse. You could sit on the bistro’s rooftop deck and watch the Orchard Festival parade, the annual Christmas tree lighting, or someone you went to high school with reporting for jury duty .
Tatum Willis, Abby’s longtime manager and right hand here at Carter Bistro, waved me back as soon as she saw me elbowing my way through the leafers gathered in the restaurant’s narrow foyer. Tatum was in her mid-forties and terrifyingly capable. She’d helped Abby open each new restaurant, trained the staff, and then came back to handle her domain here at the bistro.
If she was here, I wondered why Abby had needed to come in at all.
I said hi to a few more servers as I walked back toward the office.
Abby was seated behind his desk in the small space. He was typing on his laptop, but there were two beers and a plate of hush puppies already waiting next to his keyboard.
“You are a sight for sore eyes,” I said as I shut the door and slid onto the only other available chair in the tiny room.
“Well, hello to you too,” Abby murmured without taking his eyes off the computer screen.
“I was talking to the hush puppies, Abigail.” I popped one of the delicious morsels into my mouth.
Abby snorted but finished up whatever he was typing and then closed the laptop. “Nice to know where I rank.”
I grinned. “I saw Tatum out front. Why are you on the schedule tonight?”
He took a sip from the glass that was already half empty. “She has to leave in thirty for her daughter’s dance recital. I told her I’d cover for her.”
“Gotcha. I’m working late tomorrow, too. Candy is organizing this paint-and-sip event at the orchard after closing. People apparently pay to drink wine and paint pumpkins. I told her I’d stay and help her close up.”
Abby nodded. “That’s a good idea.”
“Yeah. She’s been a big help bringing in customers this season. All of her ideas have been a hit so far, and this thing is already sold out.”
“You don’t mind the extra work?” Abby asked, eyeing me curiously as he reached for a hush puppy .
My sister’s plans for generating more profit at the farm had caused a bit of a stir. Joan had been grumpy about Candy’s involvement, but I’d support the new stuff if it made our parents more money and took some of the pressure off them.
I typically coasted at work. I went where I was needed and did what was asked of me. I never minded because I liked all of it. I could work with Mom in the refreshment stand. I could pass out u-pick buckets to the tourists. Or I could go work in the fields with Mercer and Joan, picking apples and tending crops. I was easily adaptable.
“Nah,” I finally answered. “It’ll be good in the long run, and I’m glad to have my sister home.”
“I guess it’s probably smart that Candace doesn’t have to close up alone. Especially since the vandal was never caught.”
I glanced at my friend. There was an amused edge to his tone like he was baiting me, but I just dipped my fourth hush puppy in an obnoxious amount of butter and agreed with him. “Yeah, she shouldn’t be there by herself at night.”
Abby raised a brow and made his move. “And you still think Mac had something to do with all that?”
I shoved the fried cornbread into my mouth and chewed slowly. I didn’t know what to think about Mac anymore.
She’d kissed me over two weeks ago. Kissed me. On the mouth. Like it was no big deal and then promptly flipped the fuck out and had been avoiding me ever since.
We had trivia the other night at Trailview Brewing, and she hadn’t even argued or started a fight. My team had won, and she’d calmly stood and gathered her things while the trivia host played the closing music. Totally out-of-character, unhinged behavior.
I’d watched her like a hawk all night, waiting for a glance of acknowledgement, a telltale blush, a screech of outrage—hell, anything.
But she’d sat stoic and aloof at a nearby picnic table with her back to me through eight rounds of trivia. That had never happened before.
Now I knew she’d been serious about pretending the kiss had never happened, and she was trying to avoid me as a result .
That was fine. I’d give her some time.
I needed to sort through my own screwed-up epiphany. Realizing you’d been secretly in love with your lifelong nemesis was not something I’d recommend. It would have helped if I’d had more than five minutes to think on it before Mac had popped up outside my window like a serial killer.
The timing could not have been worse. And then the kissing thing happened, and I’d been even more confused as a result.
The kiss had been ... a total surprise and a swift confirmation.
When Mac’s red lips had touched mine, I hadn’t even thought. I’d reacted. Instinct had taken over, and I would have done anything to get closer. My hands had reached for her before I’d given them permission. She’d smelled like cinnamon and woodsmoke, her cheeks cool beneath my palms.
If we hadn’t been interrupted, I wasn’t sure what would have happened. No part of me had wanted to stop, I knew that.
But her quick denial and refusal to discuss anything left me feeling heartsick.
I knew Mac, though, and the longer I thought about it, the more I realized she’d bolted because she was scared. I’d seen the flush on her cheeks and the way her hand trembled in her lap, how she’d slid unsteadily to the ground as she’d practically sprinted out of my truck. She’d been just as affected by that kiss as I was.
Mac was running scared.
And I’d let her go for now. She had a lead, but I had every intention of catching her.
“Hello. Earth to Brady.” Abby’s impatient words drew me out of my Mac-infused daydream.
“Sorry. Yeah. No. Maybe. I don’t know,” I finally settled on. “I don’t know if Mac had anything to do with the vandalism, but I still wouldn’t put it past her.” I paused and then murmured, “She’s probably looking to strike again right about now.”
Abby frowned. “Why do you say that? She was pretty chill at trivia night.”
I debated how much to say. While it would be nice to get someone’s perspective, I wasn’t ready to admit that my friend had been right all this time. Well, at least right about me. He’d been bugging me about MacKenzie Clark since we were preteens, so smug and sure Mac and I were destined to be together.
I still needed to figure out what my feelings meant. There was a ton of history between us—most of it not good—and I didn’t know if pursuing her was even an option.
An image of her cherry-red, bee-stung lips flashed behind my eyes, and I thought I might not mind the challenge.
Either way, I knew Mac would be reluctant. She would ignore me and then lash out. It was likely she’d try to explain away what had happened between us as a freak accident that had no meaning to her.
She would basically move through the stages of grief as a result of kissing me. That did not instill confidence.
But, on the other hand, I could still hear the phantom groan of approval from when I’d sucked on her bottom lip.
“You are extra distracted tonight,” Abby noted when I’d, once again, failed to answer him.
I noted he’d popped the final hush puppy in his mouth and I felt extra sad about it.
“Mac kissed me,” I admitted.
Abby sucked in a startled breath, which was unfortunate because he had a mouth full of appetizer. His eyes widened, and he started choking and coughing while I calmly sipped my beer.
“You did that on purpose,” he managed after he’d regained use of his lungs and his eyes had stopped watering.
I grinned. “Yes. Yes, I did.”
He rolled his eyes. “She kissed you? When? What happened?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Would you like me to braid your hair while I recount the story?”
“Sure. But be gentle. I’m tender headed. ”
I gave him a flat look but then confessed, “It was after the bonfire the other week. After the thing with that idiot Pritchard.”
Abby actually rubbed his hands together like a Bond villain. “You should have seen her face when she realized you’d stood up for her.”
I leaned forward without meaning to. Something very desperate and needy inside of me wanted him to describe her features in great detail, to leave absolutely nothing out.
Instead, Abby fist-pumped. “It’s happening. I knew it.”
“If you shout ‘in your face’ at me, I’m leaving.”
He abruptly snapped his mouth closed.
I sighed. “She followed me to my truck and then shocked the hell out of me by planting one on me. Then, she looked like she’d rather die than discuss it. She said we should just pretend it never happened. Then she ran away and has avoided me ever since.”
I wasn’t going to mention that Mac claimed she was trying to snap me out of my near panic attack. Abby would just ask what I’d been freaking out over, and, if he was smug now, I’d never hear the end of it if he found out that particular truth.
“Man, I knew something was up when we won on Monday,” he lamented.
“Yeah, well, I guess she was serious about never acknowledging it.”
Abby leaned forward and lowered his voice even though the door was closed. “Was it good?”
I glared because that was none of his damn business. But then I went and ruined the effect by shifting in my seat as I remembered her spicy vanilla scent, her touch, her taste.
He hooted out a laugh. “Ohh, that’s a yes. I fucking knew it. All this time.”
“Not all this time,” I argued. “She’s hated me all our lives. She hates me right now. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. What makes you think this changes anything?”
“This is just step one. Rome wasn’t built in a day. ”
I wanted to laugh at his optimism, but the part of me that was still smarting from Mac’s immediate rejection dulled the urge.
“You know what you need to do,” Abby said, oblivious to my conflicting emotions.
“Order another batch of hush puppies?”
He chucked a pad of Post-it notes at my head. “You need to try being nice to her. Just to see what happens. Test a hypothesis.”
“What’s the hypothesis?”
“If you treat Mac like she’s any other girl instead of a demon plague, then she might want to kiss your sorry ass again.”
Again, that voice inside my head made itself known. MacKenzie Clark would never be just another girl.
I swallowed with some effort. My throat was probably just dry from all the hush puppies. “Okay, so just treat her nice?”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t tease her or give her shit. Don’t try to trip her or accuse her of having back hair.”
“That was one time! And I was twelve.”
My friend shook his head in disappointment. “So when you see her again, maybe pay her a compliment. Tell her she looks nice or you like her outfit. Talk about the weather or other safe subjects. And for the love of God, don’t mention the paintballing incident or accuse her of destruction of property.”
I nodded. “Right. Okay. I can do that.”
Abby didn’t appear convinced.
“What? I can. I will,” I amended, standing.
“Keep me posted,” Abby said, opening his laptop. “And, Brady—” I turned from where I’d reached the door. “Good luck, man. You’re gonna need it.”
The following day, I got the chance to test the hypothesis, to put Operation Nice Guy into action.
It was funny because most people in Kirby Falls actually found me to be a pretty nice person. I was definitely the most popular Judd sibling. Though, that wasn’t a hard contest to win. Joan—bless her heart—was not a ray of sunshine. My older sister just didn’t have it in her. She was no-nonsense and too practical for her own good. She had high expectations for everyone around her, and generally, no one ever managed to measure up. Candace was nice enough, but before returning this summer, she’d been gone for over seven years. She was basically out of the running.
I was funny and approachable, and I got along with everyone. Well, everyone except for Mac.
But not tonight. Tonight, I would charm the pants off the ornery woman.
Great, now I was thinking about getting her pants off.
Clearing my throat, I made my way to where a bunch of ladies were gathered at the picnic tables at the orchard. The area had been decorated with white tablecloths, and a small pumpkin and paint supplies sat at each place setting. There was also a food table with bottles of wine and an elaborate charcuterie spread. Someone had dragged over and set up the outdoor heaters. Those would feel nice. Now that the sun was on its way down, the temperature would drop.
I’d spotted Mac when I’d parked my truck. Her Jeep was two spots over, alerting me to her presence tonight at Candy’s paint-and-sip event. Plus, I could pick out Mac’s dark hair and red lips anywhere—even across a field.
She was surrounded by what looked like friends, co-workers, and most of her family. I spotted Larry plus Mac’s mother, Patty, and her aunt Maggie in among the group of ten or so women.
As I drew closer, sudden nerves took hold. I reached into the pocket of my vest and fiddled with the loop of my key chain.
Mac was talking to my sister, holding a corkscrew and opening a bottle of wine. Her hair was long and loose, curled in a way that looked effortless but probably took half an hour. She wore jeans, and her black jacket hid the rest of her.
I could be nice to Mac. I would be. I’d be on my very best behavior .
With Abby occupying one shoulder like an angelic reminder, I led an internal chant to compliment her, be attentive, and be charming. Then I took a deep breath to steady myself. Say you like her outfit , tiny Abby whispered in my ear.
But then, as I approached, the devil took over my mouth, and I blurted out, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to arm her?”
Mac turned at the sound of my voice, and I saw fire in her eyes as she took me in. It was the first time she’d looked at me since that night in my truck. The first kernel of attention I’d had in two weeks. Her reaction stirred a familiar satisfaction, but there was something else too—a building heat, an awareness, the aching knowledge I now had that the skin of her neck was incredibly smooth.
Her stormy eyes narrowed, and I heard a low growl as she kept her attention on me.
Positive reinforcement at its finest.
So, like an idiot, I kept going. “And you’re giving her wine?” I glanced at Candy. “Wow, sis. No self-preservation instinct in you at all. She’s probably using her access tonight to case the joint.”
I could hear the faint high-pitched sounds of distress coming from the direction of my shoulder. Tiny, imaginary Abby was likely having a conniption fit.
Mac glowered. “I’ve told you a hundred times, Brady Judd. I did not vandalize your property. It was probably someone else who finds you painfully annoying.”
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, throwing in a smirk for good measure.
“Yeah. We have a club and everything,” she stated matter-of-factly. “We meet on Tuesdays down at the library. Only room big enough to hold us all.”
Our stares held. I knew I was grinning, and she was too.
This had always been the problem. Getting Mac’s attention had usually been my aim, even at six years old. And the surest way to go about that was to get under her skin. Even now, at twenty-eight, it was too tempting. My blood was pumping in my veins like I was on the soccer field having just scored the game-winning goal. And this feeling was the closest to satisfaction I could possibly get outside the bedroom.
Unfortunately, I was fucking up Operation Nice Guy right out of the gate .
“What are you doing here, Brady?” My sister’s words interrupted our heated stare-a-thon, and my brows lowered in annoyance.
Reluctantly, I dragged my attention over to Candy. “I’m working this event with you and closing tonight. I just got back from my dinner break.”
She frowned. “I thought Mark was on the schedule. He was out here helping me for over an hour.”
I could sense Mac drifting away, wine bottle in hand, so I told Candace, “Nah. He was off at five. I’m your backup tonight. And good thing since you have a violent delinquent in your midst.”
That brought Mac’s stony glare back around. She snapped, “I swear, Brady.” But then her attention dropped down to my lips, and the sense of relief I felt nearly had my chest caving in.
I didn’t want to be the only one carrying around this secret. The weight of it, the perfect memory playing on repeat at three a.m. when I couldn’t sleep. I wouldn’t be able to stand it if I was the only one thinking about the way we’d fit together, how we’d come apart. I needed some sign that she remembered too. That it had affected her at all.
But in the next instant, the moment—and this brief connection—was over. Larry called out, “Mac, can I get some of those orange Tic Tacs? I know you have them in your purse. You’ve been sucking on them all week.”
For whatever reason, Mac’s eyes widened in alarm. She placed the wine bottle on the table and started digging through her bag, but not before I caught a deep flush working its way onto her cheeks.
Before she could pass the tiny plastic box off to her cousin, I took a step closer and said, “Man, I love those. Can I have one too?”
Mac wheezed out a cough and then cleared her throat, tossing the candy to Larry over her shoulder. “No. No, you may not. Tic Tacs are for people who don’t accuse me of vandalism.”
I fought a wince but nodded instead. “That’s fair.”
Mac gave me one last glare and turned to join her companions .
I knew Abby would be disappointed in me for calling her a delinquent, but, truthfully, if I had walked right up to Mac and complimented her hair, she would have thought I was either up to something or suffering from a head injury. It was better to ease into the plan, to spread out the niceties. If she assumed things were getting back to normal—our version of normal, with teasing and bickering and whatnot—she might stop avoiding me and pretending the kiss never happened. We needed to talk about it, but I had a feeling that if I forced her hand or rushed her, Mac would shut down and that lip-lock would be a distant memory I pulled out at night to keep me warm.
The women were chatting and putting a sizeable dent in the cheese board. I looked around for my sister, but Candy was nowhere to be found.
Clapping my hands together, I announced, “Ladies, it looks like I’m in charge. I say we take some shots before Candace gets back and ruins our fun.”
That got me some laughter from the crowd.
“Brady Judd, you’re a troublemaker,” Maggie Clark called with a twinkle in her eye. She was Mac’s aunt and in charge of the bakery at Grandpappy’s. I’d known her since I was a kid, and we’d always gotten along. She made the best yellow cake with old-fashioned chocolate icing.
“Yes, ma’am,” I answered with a grin.
I had half a mind to go track down my sister, but everyone seemed content to eat, drink, and visit for the time being, so I told those gathered, “Y’all settle in and enjoy the wine and snacks. We’ll get the painting portion of the event started in a bit.”
For the next few minutes, I mingled and chatted with the women present. I’d known most of them my whole life, so it wasn’t a hardship. My momma always said I could talk to a wall and be content. As a child, she’d often found me chatting with parents at the playground instead of the kids my age.
Mac and I circled one another. If I moved to speak with someone nearby, she’d find a reason to shift sideways, by either grabbing a cracker at the food table or refilling her wineglass. But she kept an eye on me, always aware and recalibrating her movements as a result. I wasn’t discouraged in the least. I liked that she was off-balance and that I knew the probable reason behind it .
I eventually caught sight of Candy striding out of the Apple House. She looked happy and pink-cheeked. She must have given herself a pep talk in front of the mirror in her office. Poor kid.
Finally, she got things rolling with the event. Everyone sat and started painting their pumpkins. For the next half hour, I circulated and refilled drinks, striking up conversations as I went. The autumn air was cool, but the heaters kept everyone comfortable in their jackets and flannels.
With a bottle of Lonely Mountain rosé in one hand, I passed behind Mac. She stiffened as I checked out her pumpkin painting. Her careful strokes had created the silhouette of a cat in front of a giant moon. It looked real good. Mac had the neatest handwriting of anyone in our grade, and she’d always excelled in art class.
“That looks nice,” I told her when I’d circled the picnic table.
Mac’s gaze drifted briefly to mine before darting back to her pumpkin. “Thank you.” Then she resumed painting, but I could tell she was being tentative, waiting for me to leave so she could finally take a deep breath.
Larry was seated across from Mac. I offered her a refill, and she held out her glass, grinning as she glanced between the two of us. The rest of the table’s occupants had wandered off to go and look at the artwork nearby.
After a moment, Larry stood and stretched. “Well, I need more cheese to go with this wine. Y’all play nice.”
Mac glared at her cousin like she’d been stabbed in the back, but I would take this opportunity and thank Laramie Burke in my prayers tonight.
Sliding onto the bench seat opposite, I placed the wine bottle on the table and was careful not to stick my elbows into any leftover paint or my foot in my mouth.
Gray eyes flicked to mine, and Mac’s frown deepened. “Are you just going to sit there and watch me?”
I smiled. She was so defensive. This would be a good time to move forward with the plan. I’d just complimented her pumpkin. I could do this. Ease her into normal interactions. Shoulder Angel Abby practically shouted for me to talk about the weather .
But before I could remark on our mild October thus far, Mac said, with her attention still on her squash, “I see you finally shaved that sad excuse for a mustache off your face.”
My natural inclination was to take offense and sling a zinger back in her direction, but then I thought about the last time she’d brought up my mustache. Two weeks ago, in the front seat of my truck, telling me it tickled.
Instead of returning her insult with one of my own, I raised my eyebrows meaningfully.
Realization dawned on her pretty face, and she rolled her eyes heavenward, but I caught her lips twitching as she focused back on her painting. That knowledge had a slow smile growing on my face. I could feel my dimple crinkling in my right cheek, knowing I’d scored a point. Another little reminder that said, It happened. We did that. And you fucking loved it .
A moment later, she reached for something at her side and tossed it over to me without a word. I caught the pack of Tic Tacs neatly against my chest.
“Thank you,” I said genuinely.
“You’re welcome.” Her reply was prim. She was still attempting to keep her attention on her work. But I saw the cracks sneaking through. The way her eyes peeked over at me, how stiffly she held herself—straight-backed and so very aware. I wanted to pump a fist into the air.
However, my goal—for once—was not to rile Mac up. I didn’t want her on edge. I wanted her at ease with me, comfortable in a way we’d rarely ever managed. Except when she’d had her tongue in my mouth and her fingers fisted in my clothes.
I reached one long arm forward and placed the candy back on the table in front of her. I made sure my tone was easy and affable, then said, “Yeah, I thought it was time to let the mustache go.”
“Oh yeah?” she murmured.
“Yeah.” I stretched out my legs and deliberately bumped her foot beneath the table. She stiffened momentarily but didn’t move her boots. “I give good face. Seemed a shame to cover it up. ”
“ Mostly cover it up,” she countered, grin wicked and eyes sparkling. “In patches. Unevenly.”
I shrugged, wearing a smug smile of my own. “Gotta give the ladies what they want.”
Mac snorted. “The ladies, huh? I’m trying to recall the last time I saw you out with anyone, and I’m drawing a blank.”
I considered that, feeling my chest heat beneath my flannel in embarrassment. It had been a while since I’d dated anyone. But I didn’t want to dwell on that because, as I stared at Mac, I realized the reason was more than likely sitting directly across from me.
Suddenly uncomfortable and self-conscious, I wiped my sweaty palms down the length of my thighs and said with little forethought, “Well, some people get around more than others.”
Mac froze, her paintbrush hovering in midair as she turned her glacial gray eyes my way. “Are you calling me easy?”
“What? No,” I replied quickly. I hadn’t meant it that way. I’d been flustered at the realization and embarrassed that I didn’t have a clever answer for her regarding my sparse dating history as of late. So I’d spouted off the first thing I could think of. And, okay, yes. Replaying it in my head, I saw how my statement could easily be misconstrued as judgmental. But I hadn’t been intentionally implying anything about Mac’s dating life. Especially after what she’d confessed about David the dentist when she was drunk. I wouldn’t do that. Not ever again.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said honestly, frustration pinching my features. I straightened on the bench, drawing my legs back to my own side.
But Mac didn’t look like she believed me.
This was getting out of hand. I didn’t want her to be angry with me—not in a way that touched on real insecurities. I needed to get us back on solid ground, not in this avalanche of misunderstanding. And I knew how to do that. I’d been doing it my whole life.
Operation Nice Guy was probably in the fail column for the night, but that was okay. I’d rather argue and bicker in a way that was comfortable and known to us than have Mac think I was insulting her as a living, breathing, dating woman in the twenty-first century.
So I put a smirk on my face and said, “Although, I do find it interesting that you’ve been keeping such close tabs on my love life.”
“That is not—I could care less who you do or do not date.”
I leaned forward. “It’s couldn’t care less .” I emphasized the final three words.
“What?”
“The phrase is ‘I couldn’t care less’ otherwise, you’re admitting that thoughts of me and my imaginary paramours are keeping you up at night.”
She scowled and pointed her dripping paintbrush in my direction. “I am not thinking about you at night or any other time.”
Her heated gaze, her forceful denial ... it brought me a familiar sense of accomplishment. It also put us firmly back into normal territory. I’d tried the nice thing again, and it had been going well until I’d gotten nervous and messed it all up. Falling back on my old antagonistic ways was easy and comfortable. And it was a hell of a lot better than getting tongue-tied and having Mac thinking I’d called her a slut.
This was alright. I could fix this. Maybe not tonight. But eventually, we’d have a conversation and figure out where things stood, talk about that kiss, and see if it meant anything to her. I wasn’t good at being patient, but this felt too big, too important to rush.
For now, she could rail at me and threaten to paint my face like a jack-o’-lantern. Because it meant I still had her attention. I was still in this. Mac sure as hell wasn’t ignoring me anymore.
Later that night, when I couldn’t sleep and my chocolate chip protein muffins were baking in the oven, I pulled out my phone.
My gaze caught on the printout I still had on my fridge. The surly, embellished, and inaccurately illustrated version of Mac glared back at me.
Standing in my kitchen, I opened the Chatter app. In the compose box, I typed .. .
@JuddsFamilyOrchard: @GrandpappysApples, I know my mustache tickled, but I barely noticed yours at all.
Then I chuckled quietly to myself and backspaced over the whole thing.
Swallowing, I started again.
@JuddsFamilyOrchard: @GrandpappysApples, That was the best kiss of my entire life, and I’m terrified I’ll never get the chance to do it again.
With a sad smile, I made sure to hit the button that would save my draft rather than post it. I couldn’t say any of that to Mac. She wasn’t ready to hear it.
And, honestly, neither was I.