Chapter 7
seven
MAC
I squeezed my cell phone to within an inch of its life and was pretty sure I heard some plastic cracking.
I was used to the snipes on the Chatter app. Brady and I battled it out on social media all the time. But sometimes that man was so annoying, I wanted to get him alone and wrap my hands around him and?—
Abruptly, my mind took a mini vacation to the front seat of Brady’s pickup truck. I’d wrapped my hands around him alright, but not in a violent sort of way. I thought of the sweetness of his kiss, the citrus on his tongue, and his thumb pressing the dimple in my chin.
I’d been doing my best to prevent any thoughts of that impromptu make-out session. Avoiding Brady had been at the top of the list. But then I’d seen a row of orange Tic Tacs by the register at the gas station, and my traitorous hand had reached for a pack.
The pumpkin-painting event at Judd’s had been the first time I’d interacted with him since the kiss that shall not be named. I half expected him to announce it to all my family and friends. But what I expected even less was his attempt at a normal conversation. It had backfired, of course. We weren’t conditioned for that sort of thing .
Now, nearly twenty-four hours later, sitting in the Grandpappy’s pumpkin patch booth, I covered my face with my hands and fought a growl.
I didn’t want to think about Brady Judd. I didn’t want to know what his lips felt like (surprisingly soft). I didn’t want to know the sounds he made when he was turned on (needy, desperate, admittedly hot). And I definitely didn’t want to see his stupid social media posts when I was busy not thinking about him.
@JuddsFamilyOrchard: It’s a fine day at the farmers’ market. Nice and peaceful. Just letting the locals and tourists alike know it’s safe to venture downtown. The harpy that usually haunts Main Street every third Saturday is on vacation.
I’d traded shifts specifically to avoid Brady today, and this was his super mature response. It was almost like he couldn’t stand not having my attention. If I was going to skip out on our regular market interaction, then he was going to make sure he took a swipe at me in two hundred and eighty characters or less.
I shook my head and tucked my phone beneath the counter of the booth. I didn’t want to see any more. It would just make me reply or force my blood pressure up ... or both.
After another frustrated growl, I stepped out of the tiny shack that was big enough for one person, a stool, a heater, and a cash box. When folks picked out the pumpkins of their dreams, they brought them to me for pricing and payment.
Grandpappy’s had closed ten minutes ago, and the stragglers were finally making their way toward the parking lot, purchases in hand. Thankfully, we only had another week until Halloween. But then this part of the farm turned into a Christmas tree lot, so it was just more of the same in a different season.
There were wheelbarrows and metal garden carts scattered around the enclosed area. Customers used them to transport their pumpkins. I needed to gather and lock them in the shed for the evening. As I moved around the space, I was grateful for the mild October weather. It was supposed to dip into the forties tonight, but it had been a gorgeous, sunny day.
I waved to Larry as she left her post at the corn maze and took off for the night. Mom and Dad stopped by after they locked up the General Store. They let me know that they had dinner plans and wouldn’t see me later in case I stopped by the house. I fully intended to relax at home—well, Grandma and Grandpa’s home—with a frozen pizza, a nice long bath, a new charcoal sheet mask, and a bottle of wine. With how busy we’d been, Saturdays on the farm were stressful, and as soon as I finished up here, I’d be on my way out.
I only had two carts left when Brady Judd came walking down the path from the main gate. I froze, debating darting behind the shed, but then realized I’d already been spotted. He had a huge grin on his face. I could see the dimple in his cheek from here.
My heart rate picked up. Yes, I’d been avoiding him, but my body was obviously confused by his proximity. I was probably just used to feeling the anticipation for our battles. That had to be it. I resisted pressing a hand to my sternum.
What was he even doing at Grandpappy’s anyway?
When he veered into the pumpkin patch and approached, I called out, “Are you lost? Your farm is across the street.”
His smile widened and he pushed his hands into the pockets of that damn puffy vest he always wore. “I knew I took a wrong turn somewhere.”
I stared as he came to a stop in front of me.
His gaze moved all over my face, and I could feel myself going warm. Was he just going to stand there and ... look at me?
Finally, he glanced down at the ground before meeting my impatient stare. “Joan called earlier and talked to William. He has a part she needs for the tractor.”
“Ah.” My uncle William was the head farmer. He and Brady’s older sister got along remarkably well. They were both quiet, stubborn, and preferred the company of farm equipment to most people.
“But then I saw you and figured I’d say hi.”
“Say hi?” I crossed my arms over my chest. Brady’s attention briefly dropped to my cleavage, and I felt that warmth from earlier head due south. “I thought you were glad to be rid of me today?”
His bright blue eyes practically sparkled. “I don’t remember saying that.”
I wanted to pull my phone out and recite his stupid Chatter post word for word, but that would prove I cared about the things he said online. Plus, my cell was inside the booth .
I rolled my eyes.
“I said ,” he emphasized, “that it was peaceful. Not that I liked it.”
“Oh.” I frowned, suddenly feeling flustered. I didn’t know what to do with that statement. God, he wasn’t going to bring up the kiss, was he? I didn’t think I could handle that right now. I still wasn’t letting myself think about what it meant. And I definitely wasn’t remembering how good it was.
In an effort to maintain some equilibrium, I grabbed the handle of the cart nearest to me and started towing it toward the shed. I heard the last remaining cart start bumping over the ground and figured Brady was following me.
“So did you have more fun here than at the farmers’ market?” he asked casually.
I didn’t turn around to answer. Just typed in the four-digit password on the keypad and opened the metal door. The rock I had it propped open with must not have been able to hold up. “My mom wanted to work the market. She asked to trade shifts.”
Brady came up behind me, his Axe-body-spray scent washing over me and making me swallow hard. Hands brushing mine, he took the swinging shed door out of my grasp and held it wide. “Liar,” he murmured against the shell of my ear.
I pulled back to glare at him.
But he only grinned harder. “Your momma said you were in a mood, and you begged her to take your shift. Said you’d even offered to wash her car for her tomorrow.”
Betrayed, I gasped. “She did not.”
“Oh, she did. I told her she should have held out for a wash and a wax.”
I glared, then retreated inside the shed to park the cart among the others.
“You didn’t have to trade shifts just to avoid me, Mac.” Brady’s smile was still firmly in place, but it looked purposeful, like it took some effort. And his voice was soft.
At his accusation, defensiveness mingled with guilt. The lie burst out of my mouth reflexively. “I didn’t. ”
“You did,” he argued. “But that’s okay. I know why.”
I had just a moment to wonder what he meant. Before I could tell him to stop, Brady stepped into the shadowed interior, pulling his wagon in with him and releasing the door.
“Wait,” I called out just as the door snapped shut.
“I know you struggle with maintaining personal boundaries in confined spaces, but I’m not about to attack you, Mac Daddy.”
“No, no, no,” I murmured, rushing past Brady and pushing futilely on the door. “Shit,” I said, giving it a final kick before I spun around to face the man responsible for locking us in the shed after hours.
He let go of the cart handle and straightened. “What?”
I gestured to the door. “We’re trapped!”
This couldn’t be happening. I patted the pockets of my jeans and my coat despite knowing damn well my phone was back in the booth where I’d stowed it after seeing Brady’s stupid Chatter post.
My gaze locked on the reason for this ridiculous turn of events, and my breathing went decidedly dragon-like.
“Why would we be trapped? Who locks a shed from the outside?” Brady marched to my side of the building and pushed fruitlessly.
“We put the lock on after that incident with the naked family. Didn’t you see me type in the code?” I gritted out.
My anger and annoyance were mixing with panic, but I forced myself to relax my jaw.
While Brady examined the latch, I blurted, “Your phone! Where’s your phone? We can call for help.”
“It’s in my truck,” he mumbled, still facing away from me.
Hope died a quick death. “Why would you leave it in your truck?”
He turned to look at me over his shoulder. “Because I knew I would be talking to William. I don’t like to be distracted by my phone. I thought I’d be right back. What about you? Where’s your phone? ”
“I was working ,” I replied with a healthy dose of sass, even though I regularly checked my phone while I was on shift. Brady didn’t need to know that. “It’s in the booth.”
Brady placed his hands on his lean hips and stared off like he was thinking hard. “Okay, so we’ll make some noise. Someone is bound to hear us.”
I was already shaking my head. “No, they won’t. I watched everybody leave for the night. I was the last one here. No one knows to come looking for us. Unless Joan was expecting you back?”
Brady bit his lip, and my eyes tracked the movement. “No,” he finally said. “She was going to come over in the morning. I thought I’d try to catch William before he left for the day. I didn’t tell Joan I was picking the part up for her tonight.”
That information made me pause. “Why would you do that?”
He started going through the storage shelves along the wall and replied over his shoulder, “I’m a good brother. I do stuff for my sisters all the time.”
My gaze narrowed. He was being shifty, not looking my way, not cracking a joke or smiling. Why had he really come over to Grandpappy’s tonight, unprompted and of his own volition?
Brady peeked at me over his shoulder before shuffling items in the overhead cabinet.
Holy shit. Did he—he wouldn’t have shown up out of the blue on some fake errand for his sister just so he could see me ... right?
Right?!
My mind spun with the possibility that I’d been the reason for this little visit. Yes, I’d been avoiding Brady. But I’d assumed we’d been in the same boat—the avoidance boat. Then I recalled the night of the pumpkin-painting event and how he’d approached me and talked to me.
Maybe he wasn’t trying to forget what had happened between us, after all.
This wasn’t really the time or place to be speculating about Brady Judd’s motivations. We were, in all likelihood, trapped in this shed for the night—until someone showed up for their shift in the morning and came to get the garden carts. I couldn’t start freaking out about this. We were stuck .
Shit.
I rubbed a hand over my face.
“What about your family?” Brady asked, and I looked up. “Won’t someone notice you’re missing?”
I shook my head once more. “No. My parents are having dinner with their friends. Larry has plans. Will’s off with Becca the tourist.”
“No date tonight?”
His question was casual, but something about it made me want to search his face for a hidden meaning.
“Not unless you count that bottle of wine I had waiting on me at home.”
Brady didn’t reply to that, but he did pluck an electric lantern off the shelf in front of him and switch it on, lighting up the dim space. We probably had an hour or so until the sun went down, and then we’d lose all the light bleeding in around the edges of the shed.
Once he had the lantern, Brady got real nosy. He poked through all the shelving and cabinets while I stood there trying to think of some way out of this—this mess where we were forced to spend an entire night together, practically outdoors. All my frustration and annoyance were brought on by Brady’s presence and nearness. This was all his damn fault. And, honestly, I was starting to panic over the forced proximity. Intrusive kissing-related thoughts swam in the forefront of my mind. I did my best to control my breathing.
The shed contained mostly extras and supplies we didn’t use regularly. All the good tools were in the barn, but I saw Brady pull out an extension cord, some twine we used for Christmas decorations, three rolls of fishing line, and a first aid kit that hadn’t seen the light of day in a long time. There were some old moving blankets, the leftover supplies from when we’d had beehives on the property, and a storage tote of string lights that we’d bust out in two weeks for the Christmas tree lot.
Brady examined some old stakes and tomato cages in the corner behind the wheelbarrows.
Finally, I snapped out, “What are you going to do, MacGyver our way out of here? ”
“No,” he said while fiddling with an old combination lock. “But that is an excellent new nickname for you. I’m disappointed I didn’t think of it sooner.”
He flashed me a quick grin, and I scowled.
“I’m just seeing what we’ve got to work with,” Brady added. “Those moving blankets are rough, but they’re thick, and they’ll keep us warm when the temperature drops tonight.”
The sinking weight of reality had me releasing a heavy breath. This was really happening. We were trapped. We’d be spending the night in this twelve-by-twelve-foot shed with its dusty floors and metal walls. What if there was a rat? What if I needed to pee?
“Hey! A pack of cards,” Brady announced excitedly.
I blinked.
“We can play War or Egyptian Ratscrew. Spoons will be a little harder with only two of us, but we could?—”
“Did you do this on purpose?” I interrupted.
Brady frowned. “Do what?”
“Get us locked in here together.”
It was his turn to blink. “How would I do that? I didn’t know y’all locked up your wheelbarrows like it was Fort Knox.”
My gaze narrowed, scrutinizing. “You just seem too”—I gestured broadly—“okay about this whole thing.”
He emptied the deck of red-and-black cards into one palm. “I’m making the best of it. We have something to keep us entertained. We have a way to keep warm. And we have light. Only thing we’re missing is pizza and a six-pack.”
Despite his annoying ability to put a positive spin on nearly anything, I guess it would be pretty farfetched to think Brady had actually locked us in a storage shed on purpose. We’d only added the keypad recently. Last month, I’d stumbled upon a family of tourists making use of the shed to hide and disrobe. They’d wanted to create a ridiculous photo op with pumpkins from our patch. Why that involved putting a baby inside a pumpkin and then everyone taking their clothes off and holding squash in front of their private parts, I still didn’t know. But I’d caught them, and we’d banned them from ever visiting Grandpappy’s again. Will had also thought it would be a good idea to keep the shed locked to prevent folks from poking around in places they didn’t belong.
I’d been stupid to walk in without propping the door again or disarming the lock fully. But, I’d been distracted by the puffy-vest-wearing idiot.
With a sigh, I made my way over to the shelf closest to the door. Shifting aside a sack of birdfeed, I retrieved a cellophane bag and held it out. “There. We won’t starve.”
Brady’s eyes brightened. “Look at you. Champion hunter-gatherer right there.”
Larry kept a stash of candy out here for when she had to work the tree farm. Luckily, Twizzlers didn’t go bad for a long-ass time, and this bag hadn’t been opened.
Brady ripped into it and stuck the end of a red licorice rope in his mouth, grinning around it. “You don’t have a secret stockpile of orange Tic Tacs, do you? Those are my favorites.”
Heat flooded my cheeks, and I screamed internally. Oh, I knew they were his favorites. There were a dozen memories in the background of my brain where Brady at various ages popped those little orange candies into his mouth.
Then there was the fact that I remembered the saccharine-sweet citrus flavor on his tongue.
Hurriedly, I glanced away and busied myself retrieving the moving blankets to spread out on the floor. I was grateful he couldn’t read my mind, or else he’d know why I’d bought that pack of Tic Tacs in the first place.
Forcing myself to answer calmly, I said, “No, just the Twizzlers. Besides, it hasn’t even been fifteen minutes. You can’t be hungry already.”
“I’m a growing boy, Mac Mac. I’m always hungry.”
Stepping around me, Brady took the other end of the gray wool fabric and helped me lay it flat.
The ground wasn’t too hard once we were seated. I imagined it would feel a lot like camping when we eventually settled down to sleep. Oh, God . Sleep. I had to sleep in this shed with Brady Judd .
But it was barely six o’clock, so we had a lot of time to kill between now and tomorrow morning. Hopefully, someone would be in by seven, at the latest.
I really hoped I wouldn’t need to pee. It was probably lucky that I hadn’t found any bottles of water along with the Twizzlers.
Brady placed the lantern off to the side and began shuffling the cards. “What do you want to play?”
I gave him a flat stare. “You seriously want to play cards?”
He quirked a brow. “Would you rather braid each other’s hair and gossip all night long like we’re at a sleepover? Or I suppose we could put these cards away and chat.” His challenging gaze dropped to my lips very meaningfully, and I swallowed hard. “I bet I can think of some topics to keep us talking. I know I’ve been curious about a few?—”
“Okay!” I practically yelled, snagging the deck of cards from his hands. “Cards it is. I’ll deal.”
Brady grinned like he’d taken the lead in a race, and, unfortunately, I had to agree.
Shit .
I don’t know how many rounds of cards we played. We cycled through every game we could think of while bickering and eating Larry’s bag of Twizzlers. Some games we’d played with our families or learned at summer camp.
At some point, we’d started putting cards up on our foreheads and trying to guess the suit we held.
Brady held a king of hearts to his forehead with one finger. It was facing out where I could see it, and he was trying to guess what card it was. He’d gotten pretty good at naming the suit, so once he’d correctly identified hearts, I’d told him to try to name the card in three guesses.
His blue eyes looked nearly silver in the strange glow from the electric lantern. They narrowed on me as if he could pull the answer out of my head by staring.
“Is it ...” He searched my face, and I snorted a laugh. “A jack?”
“Nope. ”
Brady closed his eyes and hummed.
“Are you divining the answer?” I teased. “Consulting the great beyond?”
“Maybe,” he replied without opening his eyes.
“Two guesses left. Hurry up.”
“I’m thinking,” he insisted. Then he said, “Twizzler me,” and opened his mouth like a baby bird.
I rolled my eyes but grabbed the licorice stick and put it between his teeth. He was ridiculous. I could feel myself smiling. Damn it .
“Three of hearts,” he said after he finished chewing.
“Nope. Last chance.”
His eyes were still closed, so it felt safe to study him. His brown hair was longer on top and generally styled like that of a messy frat boy who’d just rolled out of bed. But with the playing card in the way, his hair was sticking up a little more than usual in the front, making me grin. Despite the time of day, there wasn’t even a hint of stubble on that baby face. I bet he still got carded when he bought alcohol outside of Kirby Falls.
My gaze fell to his lips. They weren’t chapped or rough. I knew from experience just how soft they were. His bottom lip was fuller than the top, and as I watched, they parted on an indrawn breath.
When my attention finally drifted back up, I jolted in surprise. Brady’s eyes were open. He was watching me watch him.
My stomach flipped, and heat washed up and over my sternum, making a beeline for my neck and cheeks.
“King of hearts,” he guessed quietly.
A beat of silence passed while I collected myself.
“You got it,” I murmured. Embarrassment had me standing abruptly and turning away.
I was stiff from sitting too long as I started pacing the length of the space, but thankfully, the cold couldn’t touch me. I was too wound up and flushed from— from whatever that had been. I’d gotten caught staring like a middle schooler. But Brady wasn’t teasing me for it. In fact, he hadn’t said a word.
I kept up my pacing as he gathered the cards and returned them to the small box.
Ignoring me, Brady moved a bag of mulch under the blankets and used it to recline against. He leaned back and wiggled until the covered bag held a Brady-sized impression, and he got comfortable. Stretching, he extended his long, lean body as far as it would go. The fabric covering his stomach rode up as a sliver of pale, toned midsection became visible.
I swallowed and looked away, ignoring the trail of fine, dark hair that disappeared beneath his jeans.
A groan escaped his lips as he stretched. I definitely didn’t compare it to the sound he’d made when I’d fisted his shirt in the front seat of his truck.
Crossing his hands behind his head, Brady watched me walk from one end of the shed to the other.
“Did you just develop claustrophobia all of a sudden?” he said around a yawn.
My watch told me it was after eleven. It was quiet, but I could hear night sounds outside—insects and the rustling of the grass, probably some small animals.
But I wasn’t afraid of the relatively small space we were trapped in. I was uncomfortable, and I couldn’t put a finger on why. I didn’t like being alone with Brady when I didn’t know what was going on with my body. Between the kiss weeks ago and the way I’d been lusting after his lips just now, I didn’t want to admit that I was probably (definitely) attracted to the boy I’d hated all my life.
If we kept playing cards and getting along, then I’d keep getting my wires crossed. I’d embarrass myself again. And worse, I’d keep smiling and laughing and ... having fun.
“No, I’m not claustrophobic,” I finally answered. “I just want to move around. We’ve been sitting forever, and I’m all stiff.”
“Yeah, you do look tense.”
I glared and then pivoted in the other direction. Pacing didn’t take me but a few steps before I had to turn around again. “Well, we can’t all be laid-back frat bros. ”
He chuckled. “Would you prefer I freak out and complain the whole time? We’re stuck. We can’t do a damn thing about it. So I’m making the best of it.”
“Making the best of it?” I practically shrieked, halting in my frantic walking.
“Sure, why not? We’re not going to die. Someone will let us out in the morning, and we can go get some breakfast if you want.”
I stared at him incredulously. “We are trapped. In the cold. We don’t have food or water.”
He held up the half-empty bag of candy.
“ Real food, Brady. What if one of us needs medicine or a doctor? Or a damn bathroom?”
What if I’m having thoughts and I don’t like those thoughts? What if I’m considering grabbing you by the puffy vest and kissing the hell out of you again?
“Do you need to pee?” he asked, oblivious to my internal freakout. “I can face the wall and hum. I think I saw a watering can somewhere.”
“No,” I said quickly when he started to rise, presumably to get a watering can for me to pee into. Jesus Christ . “I’d rather die. Thank you.”
He laughed and lay back down on the makeshift pallet. “Okay, calm down.”
I must have shot laser beams of rage out of my eyes because he quickly backtracked. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
With hands raised in surrender, Brady sat up. “You can be as mad or worried or upset about this as you want. But I’m going to stay positive. As long as both of us don’t panic at the same time, we’ll be okay.”
After a long moment, I nodded. That sort of made sense.
“Now—if you’d like—come sit down and get under a blanket.”
I frowned, wondering why he’d said that.
As if in answer, Brady clarified, “You’re rubbing your arms. You’re cold.”
I looked down to see that he was right. My hands were moving up and down the smooth fabric of my jacket. Now that I wasn’t dying from embarrassment or full of furious anger, the cold had seeped in without me noticing .
Brady returned his hands behind his head and closed his eyes like he didn’t care what I decided to do.
So I sat. Then I burrowed beneath the top layer of the blanket mound.
He cracked one lid open. “You know, we could snuggle for warmth.”
“Oh my God,” I growled.
“I’m just saying!” He closed his eye, but there was no hiding that grin.
Brady
It was an hour later, and I could hear her teeth chattering.
We’d dimmed the electric lantern, and it emitted only a faint circle of cool blue light. But I could see how stiffly Mac held herself.
The blankets were plentiful, but they were rough and thick and not very well insulated. It was like trying to cover up and keep warm with a scratchy suit jacket. The blankets might have been economical, but they weren’t comfortable like a quilt or a fuzzy fleece.
Despite the cold, Mac had been hell-bent on ignoring me. I shouldn’t have pushed. Obviously, I’d rattled her.
I was going to lose a thumbnail if I kept nervously fiddling with the key ring in my pocket, though.
“Will you please just come lie down with me?” I finally blurted. “Just for warmth. We do not have to talk about anything you don’t want to talk about. But you are very clearly freezing.”
“No,” she said, shaking her head.
“I’ll never tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.”
Her eyes locked on mine, and I just knew she was thinking about the other secret we shared .
So I hurriedly added, “I’m tired of listening to your teeth clickety-clacking. I’ll never get my beauty rest if you’re over there getting hypothermia.”
Mac glared like I knew she would.
I flung back the blanket covering me and spread my arms wide.
She looked like a woman facing a firing squad, but she eventually crawled over to me. I swallowed hard and focused on not getting an erection at the sight of her on all fours.
Once she’d snuggled into my side, her head resting on my shoulder and her arms wrapping around my chest, we got the blankets situated on top of us. The only sound besides the crickets outside was our steady breathing.
I wrapped one arm around her back and pulled her close. We didn’t talk, and all I could think about was how good she felt, how well we fit together, how nice it was to be close and quiet—even if we were trapped in an old shed.
After long moments, she finally murmured against my chest, “How are you this warm?” Her tired voice was a little muffled from the fabric of my vest.
“I’ve always run pretty hot.” I grinned against the top of her head. Her dark hair was soft and cold beneath my lips. “Admit it, Macaroni. You think I’m hot.”
She snorted. “Yeah. A hot mess.”
“Nope. A smoke show.”
“Like a dumpster fire.”
I laughed into the darkness.
“Besides,” she continued, “you’re not really my type.”
From our long history, I knew she was trying to get under my skin, but even with that knowledge, I couldn’t ignore the sharp edge of hurt her words caused. Maybe I’d only realized it recently, but I did want to be MacKenzie Clark’s type.
“Oh, really,” I said, making sure my tone was even, casual as a Friday. “Because I’m not a loan officer or a dentist.”
Mac held so still that I didn’t think she was even breathing .
Maybe it was weird that I knew the occupations of the last two guys she’d dated. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Finally, she replied primly, “There’s nothing wrong with being a loan officer or a dentist.”
“I totally agree. Gum health is important.”
That had her exhaling a short laugh.
But what I didn’t say could fill up every wheelbarrow in this shed. Mac needed more than a safe guy with a steady career and a 401(k). She needed someone to challenge her, to call her on her bullshit. Mac didn’t want to be taken care of by some buttoned-up nice guy.
As long as I’d known her, she’d been bold and fierce with a wild streak a mile wide. Now, she was a strong, independent woman—fearless and vulnerable in unexpected ways.
She always picked Kirby Falls transplants to date. Men who moved here in adulthood. They usually owned businesses or held down standard nine-to-five jobs.
Mac dated those men because there was a safety net beneath each one. But in reality, if she let them see who she really was, she’d eat them alive. Instead, she settled, and then she got bored. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was like she was forcing herself into a mold, and then when it got too uncomfortable, she bolted.
“But?” she prompted, jolting me out of my thoughts. “I know you want to say something. And not about gingivitis.”
My heart thumped hard in my rib cage, and I wondered if she could feel it. This was getting close to the imaginary line we’d drawn. Who Mac dated skirted the border of things she wasn’t ready to talk about ... like kissing in front seats and how all those guys should have been me.
So, I hedged a little. “But ... I think they’re a little boring. For you.”
She lifted up on her elbow to look at me. “For me? What does that mean?”
I couldn’t look at her when she was this close. Not when I could feel her legs tangled with mine and her hand resting over my heart .
So I shifted, placing my hands behind my head and looking up at the dark ceiling of the shed. “It just means I think you date these safe, boring guys who don’t hold your interest. I think you need someone who would be a good match. Someone who’s a little wild. Someone who’s going to be more than safe, where you’re concerned.”
It took everything in me to keep my gaze fixed on the roof over my head. I wanted to gauge her features in the dim lantern light. I wanted to watch her react to my words before her brain reminded her I was the one speaking them. But most of all, I wanted to kiss her again and make her see me.
Thirty seconds passed while I fought my instincts. I didn’t fidget or squirm or reposition my body.
Mac settled back at my side but remained quiet. It wasn’t like her. I was used to a Mac who reacted quickly and, at times, violently. This thoughtful, subtle creature nestled against me was an unknown.
Attempting to break the tension, I joked, “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”
“Where did that come from?” she asked, incredulous.
I grinned and brought my arm back around her shoulders, my fingers sifting through her dark hair. I felt more content than I had any right to be lying on the floor of a cold shed. “I just remembered how mad you got that time in kindergarten when you bit Mrs. DeBusk. Annnnd you’re pretty close to my jugular.”
Mac laughed, her breath warm against the exposed skin of my neck. “I’m not going to bite you. Jesus. Why do you even remember that?”
“I remember everything, Macklemore.”
Another moment passed. I felt her swallow before saying, “That’s a new nickname.”
Grinning, I rested my chin on top of her head. “I just thought of it.”