Chapter 13
thirteen
brADY
The holidays put my secret meetups with Mac on hold for a little while.
She’d only managed to sneak over twice in the last two weeks. I knew her grandparents were in town and she lived with them. So I told myself that was why she’d yet to stay the night at my apartment.
Abby and I were at the gym early one cold January morning when a text came through from Mac. Given the time, I figured she’d just woken up to get ready for work, and I liked the idea that she’d reached for her phone with me on her mind.
I paused the music streaming through my earbuds so I could focus on her message. The clink of weights and the hum of cardio machines faded into the background as I read.
MacKenzie: I thought it was an anomaly, but you do it every time. You actually smile in your sleep.
Then a picture attachment came through. It was of me. My eyes were closed, and my head was on my pillow. She’d snapped the photo from beside me in bed, and, true to her word, my lips were tilted up even as I slept soundly.
MacKenzie: Does your friendliness know no bounds? Are you charming folks in your dreams, Mr. Popular ?
Me: I can’t help I’m charming, Big Mac.
MacKenzie: You know who else is charming? Cult leaders.
I snorted a laugh.
If she thought her teasing was going to bother me, she’d played this one all wrong. The woman who didn’t do long-term and couldn’t figure out her feelings had taken a picture of me sleeping. I was ignoring the part where she’d snapped the photo as she snuck out of my apartment. But despite that, something had compelled her to stop before she left. Maybe she had been amused by the fact that I was smiling in my sleep. But maybe she sat there staring for a while. Thinking. Feeling. Maybe the impulse to take a sneaky picture had been motivated by something more than the casual hookup vibes she put off.
Either way, I liked knowing she had that image of me on her phone. I liked even more that she knew what I looked like when I slept. How it brought me peace to wrap my arms around her and hold her close. To have her warm cinnamon-sugar scent linger on my pillow.
Me: If you think you’re giving me shit right now, you are sorely mistaken. You paparazzi’d me in my sleep, Clark. Why are you so obsessed with me?
MacKenzie: Omg. The ego on you.
Me: Is that what we’re calling it?
MacKenzie: LOL
MacKenzie: Besides, this coming from the guy who basically has my name tattooed on his ass. Talk about obsessed.
I snorted again. If she only knew.
Then I typed out, Oh, I just really like burgers. Did you think that was in some way related to you?
MacKenzie: Nice try.
Me: Wait, did you save this picture of me so you could make another voodoo doll?
MacKenzie: God, that was such a good prank .
Me: Fifteen-year-old Mac was creative. Is that why my knee hurts sometimes?
MacKenzie: Yes. I think I left the pin in your leg, wherever that doll ended up.
Me: Well, if you could track it down, that would be great.
“What are you smiling about?”
Abby’s voice made me blink. I glanced over to find my friend perched on the weight bench, staring at me. It was an effort, but I forced myself to stow my phone and focus on the workout we were in the middle of.
“Nothing,” I said and then swallowed down the uncomfortable feeling of lying to my oldest friend.
Abby’s dark eyes narrowed. “Come spot me.”
“Sure.”
Moments later, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket and fought all my instincts to check it, instead keeping my attention on Abby and the bar’s steady progress up and down over his chest.
Abby blew out a breath after the final rep and said, “You’re being weird. What’s going on?”
The urge to tell him about Mac was admittedly strong, but it had been my idea to keep things a secret, and I needed to stick to that. It would be safer in the long run.
Plus, I already knew how Abby felt about Mac and me. He’d be excited and supportive until he found out about the casual, secretive aspect of our relationship. Then he’d worry that I was going to get my heart broken.
Honestly, he was right to worry. I was half convinced that was the way things were going to go if Mac couldn’t own up to her feelings or if she got bored with me. But that was the whole point of keeping things just between the two of us.
It took the pressure off. I’d known Mac too long, and I’d witnessed every relationship she’d ever had fail for a variety of reasons. But it was never because the guys broke up with her .
I hoped that by keeping this thing between us under wraps, we could avoid pressure from the town. I fought a shudder as I imagined the posts in the Kirby Falls Facebook group. There was every chance a friend or family member or neighbor would get in Mac’s head about dating the guy she’d spent the last twenty years hating. The memory of our date to the Haunted Forest validated my decision. She hadn’t wanted anyone to see us together then. It seemed safer to keep it that way now.
Rationally, I knew we couldn’t stay a secret forever—I wouldn’t want us to, anyway. But I’d really like to have a chance at something more with her before things went public.
It was obvious that Mac wasn’t ready to defend what we meant to each other when she hadn’t even figured it out for herself. I couldn’t expect her to be where I was—not yet, anyway. She needed time to fall, and I could wait. It wasn’t a strength of mine, but I could be patient. She was worth it, and our chance for a future together was worth it, too.
“I’m not being weird,” I answered defensively as Abby finished racking his weights. My response had the distinctly argumentative tone of I know you are, but what am I , and I felt embarrassingly childish as a result.
My friend’s raised eyebrow said he’d heard it too.
“What?” I challenged.
He brushed a hand through his dark hair and then shook his head. “Nothing. You’re a shit liar but I’m not going to force it out of you. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Guilt and remorse nearly had me opening my mouth as Abby turned away.
He called back over his shoulder, “I’m doing cardio. I’ll see you later.”
“See you,” I said weakly.
With a sigh, I went to the locker room and gathered my stuff. Abby was right. I was worthless today. No point in hanging around.
When I made it outside, a cold drizzle fell, the sky dark and moody as the early-morning sun struggled to rise. I waited until I’d started my truck and cranked up the heat before pulling out my phone.
The unread message was waiting .. .
MacKenzie: If you can get away for lunch today, you could meet me at the tiny house. It’s on the farm, behind the big barn. There’s a private lane to the left of the main entrance. Just follow the gravel drive until you get to the little A-frame. You can’t miss it.
Five hours later, I didn’t even have time to knock before Mac opened the door to the small cottage and yanked me inside.
Her lips fastened to mine, and her eager fingers went to work on my belt.
I awkwardly held the bag of sandwiches I’d picked up at Montell’s to one side as I shuffled into the space.
Ah, so this was going to be that kind of lunch.
Mac didn’t stop until the brown paper bag impeded her from getting my vest all the way down my arms.
She pulled back, red lips plump and tempting. “What’s this?”
I smiled tightly. “Lunch?”
Realization dawned. “Oh.” Then she brightened. “Good, we’ll need to refuel after.”
A surprised laugh made its way out of me despite the disappointment gnawing subtly at my belly.
And then Mac was tugging the bag out of my hand and placing it on the counter. She returned and kissed me slowly this time, quieting the whispers of surprise and confusion and the distress I couldn’t place. The urgency fell away. Her hands were still eager but less careless and rushed. Her touch lingered as she undressed me, and I returned the favor.
It was easy to forget all the more I wanted when her hands were on me, making me think this was enough. It was enough to have her time and her attention. Enough to gather up her smiles and her laughter and keep them for myself. Enough to bend her over the couch and take her the way she wanted, her voice a desperate chant in my ears. I had to be a greedy bastard to want more than her body in my arms, lost to pleasure and clenching desperately around me .
For now, it had to be enough.
By the time our panting breaths quieted and the sweat had cooled on our skin, I wasn’t even thinking about the fact that she’d meant this to be an afternoon quickie instead of a real lunch date. It was just a chance to see her, to be with her in the confines I’d established myself.
Later, I was unwrapping the sandwiches while she grabbed plates and drinks.
“What is this place?” I asked. “Does anyone live here?”
Mac shook her head. Her red lipstick was smeared a little, and I figured the evidence was spread somewhere on my skin. “No. Becca was staying here before she moved in with Will. And Chloe lived here briefly before that. But the tiny house was just something we had as a rental property at one time.”
I could see that being profitable, but also a huge hassle since it was on Grandpappy’s property.
As if reading my mind, Mac continued, “But it ended up being more trouble than it was worth. So we stopped renting it out to tourists and just kept it for ourselves. Will used to crash here a lot. Back when he overworked himself.”
I passed her half of an Italian sub before asking, “But Will’s not overworking himself anymore?”
She hesitated for just a moment, but then her gray eyes settled on me, and a small, shy smile graced her lips. “Yeah, he’s taken a step back from the farm. Actually, you’re looking at the new Manager of Farm Operations and Social Media Director.”
I straightened on my stool, surprised and pleased and happy for her. Mac had only ever worked at Grandpappy’s, as far as I knew, but it had always seemed like something she did to pass the time. Like it was more her family’s legacy than hers, and she was just in it for an easy paycheck and to have co-workers she liked.
But I could see from the way she was watching me that my reaction was important. And, if I had to guess, I’d say the shyness and reserve on her pretty face—so surprising and rare—was because she was tentatively pleased with her new role, and not in the smug way I would have expected .
I didn’t want to say the wrong thing. Somehow, I knew I couldn’t praise her accomplishment or she’d brush it off. I couldn’t admit I was proud of her for stepping up and taking something for herself. I knew Mac well enough to know it would make her downplay her position and lash out as a result.
So I gave her an appraising look and said, “Are you telling me I’m banging management? Oh, can you maybe wear a little skirt suit next time? I think I could be into that.”
Mac laughed and reached across the kitchen counter to punch me on the arm and then steal my pickle spear. But I could see the relief in her grin, the way her shoulders relaxed from their tense, bracing set.
I grinned and snatched my pickle back. “I wonder if I can wrangle a title for myself at the orchard.”
“Oh my God. I knew you’d try to do that.” But she was still smiling as she took her first bite.
We ate and chatted for the next twenty minutes. She told me about the tasks she was taking off of Will’s plate and handling herself. It sounded like she was eager for the responsibility and happy with the change.
“So, my grandparents are staying another week,” Mac said as we finished cleaning up our lunch.
“Oh, yeah?”
“I thought maybe we could meet up here at the tiny house if you wanted. It’s close to both of our farms. Nobody will notice.” Her voice was tentative, as if she’d shared a secret with me and was waiting to see what I’d do with it.
Did I love the idea of a hookup spot for sneaking around? No, not really. But I had no one to blame but myself. If staying here made it easier for Mac and allowed her to sleep in my arms a little longer before returning home, then I wasn’t going to argue. I’d meet her here as often as she’d let me.
“Sounds good,” I managed evenly, sliding my vest back on.
She nodded, eyes bright and pleased. “Okay. See you tonight, then?”
“We have trivia tonight,” I reminded her .
“Oh, right.”
I brought my arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, sneaking in affection as much as we were sneaking behind the backs of everyone in town. “I’m thinking we fight during the third round. That way, we can get booted early, and I can come back here and make you dinner.”
She grinned. “I like the way you think. What do you want to argue about?”
I shrugged, ignoring the coiling tension in my shoulder blades. “We’ll figure it out as we go.” Then I pressed one last kiss to her lips before stepping away. “We always do.”
I added staged public fights to our secret arrangement portfolio, alongside a clandestine meeting place in the woods. It was all just another brick laid to build our deception.
Who was I to complain? I thought sullenly. I’d gotten exactly what I’d asked for.
I woke in a panic, gasping in a foreign room while cold sweat dampened my forehead. My eyes searched the low light of the small bedroom until I found Mac curled up beside me.
I breathed out a sigh of relief, unsure what I’d been dreaming of or why I’d snapped awake so violently. But everything was okay. We were at the tiny house, and Mac was still here. She hadn’t left yet.
Reaching for the end table, I snagged my cell phone and checked the time. It was only 12:36 a.m., barely morning.
We’d left trivia around seven thirty and stopped by the store to pick up supplies. Then I’d made us a quick dinner of baked lemon dill salmon with rice and a Brussels sprout salad. Unlike earlier in the day, we’d made it to the bedroom before we got each other’s clothes off and had fallen asleep not long ago.
I knew Mac had an alarm set to get herself back home around four. But she’d slipped me a key when we’d arrived tonight and told me to stay as long as I wanted .
I looked down at her, breathing deep and even. Her long, dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, and the red lipstick she favored had faded from her mouth with every brush of my lips. I knew beneath those covers she wore only underwear and an oversized tee shirt because her bare legs had been tangled with mine.
Mac had this tiny little vee between her eyebrows. I grinned to myself as the last of the panic abandoned my system. It was fitting that if I smiled in my sleep, she would frown in hers.
My phone was still in my hand, so I brought up my camera app. The room was dark, but moonlight streamed in from the window that faced the field behind the tiny house. She had a picture of me. It only seemed fair that I take one in return.
I stared at the image of Mac on my screen. The difference was, she’d use my photo to tease me, whereas I’d probably pull up this picture of her and look at it every night before I went to sleep. A portrait in an invisible locket, the weight of it pressing warm and solid against my chest.
I was just about to put my phone back on the bedside table when an alert came through. I straightened as the notification indicated there was motion on the farm that had triggered the floodlights to turn on and the camera to start recording. The settings weren’t so sensitive that a bug or even a small animal could cause an alert like that to go out.
Swiping over to the app, I pulled up the live feed. Damn. Right there in the top corner of the video was the blur of a foot in motion. A black-and-red sneaker hustled across the grass on the edge of my screen.
“What is it?”
My eyes found a sleepy Mac rising onto her elbows.
“Someone is at the orchard. The motion sensors were triggered, and the app notified me.”
She sat bolt upright. “Well, let’s go get them.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “And if you say something stupid about me staying here where I’ll be safe, I will one hundred percent punch you in the junk.”
I thought about arguing, but we were low on time. It was maybe a two-minute drive across the road to my family’s property, but the intruder could leave any moment.
We could approach cautiously and call the sheriff’s office for backup. I wouldn’t let anything happen to Mac.
So I grinned and stood, pulling her to her feet. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. You need my junk for stuff.”
She gave me a quick smile, but then we were a flurry of motion, pulling on clothes and shoes and scrambling out the door.
Mac hustled to the driver’s side of her Jeep.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“Driving,” she whisper-shouted back.
“Your bright yellow vehicle is pretty conspicuous. Let’s take mine.”
She thought about it for two seconds before grumbling under her breath and hopping into the passenger side of my truck instead. I tossed her my phone and shifted into gear.
“Can you keep an eye on the live feed and see if you notice anything?”
“Yep,” she replied, eyes glued to the screen.
I maneuvered us along the gravel drive back toward the highway. Then, I cut the lights and headed down the private road toward my parents’ house. This way, we wouldn’t have to get out to unlock the gate at the highway and could approach stealthily from the direction of the main house.
“The chain’s still on, and I don’t see any getaway cars,” Mac observed.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “You think they parked down the highway and walked onto the property?”
“That would make the most sense. Want me to call the sheriff yet?”
I hesitated. It would be the smart thing to do, but if the intruder was already gone, it would be one more incident with zero evidence or outcome. The deputy assigned to the case already thought I was an idiot.
“Let’s hold off. See what we see. ”
The truck bumped along the unpaved trail between the house and the orchard. Rows of dormant apple trees lined the right side of the road, which was no more than a worn truck path with two ruts in the grass. The moon was bright enough that I could see where I was going, but I’d been traveling this path for as long as I could remember. I could probably manage it with my eyes closed.
Finally, the Apple House came into view. The floodlights on the eastern side were still blazing and guided us like a lighthouse on a rocky shore. I slowed the truck to a crawl, on the lookout for any movement in the dark surrounding the building.
“There!” Mac shouted, throwing an arm out and pointing to the back of the Apple House where the new berry bushes were planted.
I hit the brakes and threw the truck into park before jumping out and taking off. The figure was dressed head to toe in black and made a startled sound when they caught sight of me. They fell back, scrambling on hands and feet before I was on them, tackling them flat to the ground.
I could hear Mac racing up to where I held a squirming body face down in the grass. They landed a sharp elbow to my midsection that had me grunting out a curse, but once Mac turned a flashlight on us, they quit struggling.
“Call the cops, Mac,” I gritted out.
At my announcement, gangly limbs started moving again as the body—much smaller than mine—attempted to buck me off once more.
“Stop! Don’t call the police,” said a voice that sounded painfully young.
I froze. “Stop wiggling a minute.”
Their body complied.
I met Mac’s wide-eyed gaze briefly before heaving a sigh. “Okay, I’m going to get off you, but if you try to run, I will tackle you again AND call the cops.”
“Okay,” they said, breathing hard.
I sat back on my heels. Keeping one arm in my grasp, I urged the trespasser to roll over.
“Shit,” Mac whispered from above us. She had the flashlight shining down onto the face of a boy, probably no more than fourteen or fifteen years old. “Aren’t you a little short for a burglar?”
The boy glared.
“What are you doing out here, kid?” I asked in frustration. This was someone who should have been in bed on a Monday night, getting ready for school the next day. Not breaking and entering.
“Nothing,” he spat. His features were hard and belligerent, but his dark eyes slid behind Mac briefly.
She followed the motion with her flashlight over to where the steady hum of fans sounded louder than normal.
My mouth dropped open at the destruction she’d revealed—strips of nylon, tattered and strewn across the muddy ground. “You killed Brad and Chad!”
The kid tried to yank his arm out of my hold, but I held tight.
“Jeff’s still standing, though,” Mac said helpfully, turning her light back on the undersized intruder, making him wince.
“Yeah, I guess we surprised you before you had a chance to cut up all of the inflatable tube men.”
“Why do you even have those?” the little delinquent asked.
“To keep away the deer,” Mac and I answered in unison.
“And why are you out here trespassing and damaging our property?” I asked. “You the paintball perpetrator too, little man?”
“I’m eighteen,” he lied indignantly.
“You better hope not, short stuff,” Mac said. “Then you’ll get tried as an adult.”
Even in the warm glare from the flashlight, he visibly paled. “Listen, it was a stupid dare, okay. I barely hurt anything. I’ll pay you back. Just don’t call the cops.”
Mac and I shared a look.
“Who dared you?” I asked.
“Just ... some kids. My friends,” he amended quickly .
“You need some better friends, half-pint,” Mac said flatly.
Now, the boy’s cheeks flooded with heat, and I felt a small pang—really small, mind you—when I remembered how hard it was to be a teenager. I’d always had good friends, though. I’d been popular and well-liked and hadn’t needed to impress anyone overmuch or try to elbow my way into a friend group by committing petty crime.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
He hesitated, and Mac shook her phone at him for emphasis. “Amos.”
“Amos what?”
“Amos Coates.”
Mac and I shared another look, this one longer, with undertones of ah, fuck .
I only knew one Coates in Kirby Falls, and it was Rhonda. She was a bartender over at Firefly Cider. She worked for Jordan Rockford and had a lot on her plate. A single mother with no nearby family to speak of. If this was her kid, then there was no way I was letting Mac connect that call to the sheriff’s office.
With a sigh, I kept one hand wrapped around the scrawny arm beside me and got us both to our feet.
“This is what’s going to happen, Amos Coates,” I said sternly. At least, I hoped I was stern. It wasn’t something I attempted very often. “You’re going to get in that truck, and I’m going to drive you home, where I will speak to your mother about your nighttime activities. You will report here after school tomorrow to start working off the damage you caused.”
He made an abbreviated sound of protest, cut off when Mac shined the flashlight in his eyes again briefly.
“And you will work here as long as it takes—with your mother’s permission—if you don’t want me to let my friends down at the sheriff’s department know exactly what you’ve been up to.”
I could feel Mac’s attention on me as I spoke.
The kid kept his eyes downcast on his muddy black-and-red sneakers before nodding jerkily .
We all made our way to the truck, the flashlight bobbing across the ground and illuminating ragged shreds of red and blue nylon every so often.
The cab was silent as I drove back across the street to drop Mac off at the tiny house, where her car was parked.
She lingered outside my window, eyeing the surly teenager in my backseat. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” she whispered. “I’m good backup.”
I smiled. “Oh, I know. You killed it at bad cop out there tonight.”
Mac’s lips stretched wide as she took a few steps backward. “Good night, Brady.”
“’Night, John Mac-Lane.”
Her quiet laughter filled the space between us, making me wish I was following her back inside instead of dealing with the mess I was currently knee-deep in.
My gaze drifted to the rearview mirror and found the kid watching me before he quickly glanced away. I couldn’t help but wonder for the hundredth time if I was doing the right thing.
I didn’t sleep after I left Rhonda Coates’s house early this morning. She lived in a small two-bedroom duplex near Tanner Park. Amos had a little sister who was six, and I’d had to keep my voice low to avoid waking her up while Rhonda and I discussed what to do about her son.
Rhonda had been deeply apologetic and mortified to hear about what Amos had been up to. The kid was fourteen and a freshman at Kirby Falls High School. She’d said he had trouble making friends and spent a lot of time playing video games while she was at work. The neighbor on the other side of the duplex babysat for Rhonda in the afternoons and evenings while she worked her shifts at Firefly.
After Amos had stomped off to his bedroom, his mother and I worked out an arrangement to deal with the vandalism and destruction of property. One that didn’t involve the sheriff’s office or Rhonda attempting to empty her savings account .
I remembered what it was like to be a dumb kid with too much time and energy on my hands. I’d been a troublemaker at a young age before leveling up to class clown during my teenage years. The difference was I had been well-liked, and I’d charmed my teachers and administrators while I was at it.
However, I wasn’t blind to the concept of being bored enough to find trouble. I’d just had better influences like Cole Abernathy and a voice of reason in Jase Wilcox. I’d burned off energy playing sports and genuinely enjoyed being part of a team. And I’d had a strong support system in my siblings and parents. Plus, the idea of purposefully damaging someone’s property never would have crossed my mind—even on a dare from older kids.
Though, now, staring at the bits of brightly colored nylon that Amos had hacked up behind the Apple House, I was cursing my benevolence.
It was just after seven in the morning. This day was going to be a long one.
“Rest in peace, Brad and Chad,” I mumbled as I got to work cleaning up.
It wasn’t long before I heard an engine coming down the path between my parents’ house and the orchard. Glancing up, I did a double take when I saw a bright yellow Jeep.
Mac hopped out and made her way over to me. She was in worn jeans and a fleecy pullover. Her messy bun was still in place, but the faded lipstick had been replaced with a fresh layer that drew my attention to her mouth. She looked so fucking pretty walking toward me in the cloudy January morning that I had to force a rough swallow before I could speak.
“Hey,” I said, confusion evident in my tone.
She gave me a small smile. “I figured you’d been here, cleaning up. Thought I’d come help.” I opened my mouth to object, but she shook her head. “It’s my day off. I can spend it however I want.”
I watched her for a long moment, wondering if she knew that secret hookups who were only in it for the sex didn’t really offer to help someone clean up a mess at the crack of dawn. I tried not to read too much into the fact that she was here when she could have been warm in bed without me. But there was a traitorous tightness in my chest that said I wasn’t managing it all that well .
“Thank you,” I said roughly as she reached into my back pocket for the roll of trash bags I’d stashed there.
She pulled a couple off for herself and then returned the remainder of the roll to my jeans, smacking my ass and grinning on her way to where Chad littered the ground.
When I got to work near her, Mac asked, “So what did Rhonda say? Did y’all decide on a punishment?”
I crouched and grabbed a handful of blue nylon. “Amos is going to help me here after school two days a week for six weeks.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to your family?”
“Yeah, I came out here early and had coffee with Mom and Dad, then caught Candy and Joan when they started their run. Everyone was okay with it. Mercer too. Mom insists on feeding Amos an afternoon snack before he starts work, though.” I rolled my eyes.
Mac laughed. “Oh, Amy. She’s a good one.”
Smiling, I agreed, “Yep.” My mother was pretty great. She’d put up with me being an overactive pain in the ass often enough; a sullen teenager would probably be a walk in the park.
I still worried I’d taken advantage of my family’s generosity. Amos had been young and dumb and reckless, but he’d also snuck onto our property multiple times and caused some destruction—albeit minor. Between the paintballing and the inflatable tube men, it was damage, nonetheless. What if his second attempt hadn’t been thwarted by Mac and me? What if he’d smashed all the pumpkins on the farm or burned down apple trees because his idiot friends in the getaway car thought it would be fun to watch our livelihoods go up in flames?
Part of me worried I should have just called the sheriff and let them handle it. That the right path for that boy would be some tough love instead of a second chance to hurt my family again.
“Do you think I made the right decision?” I asked Mac without looking at her. “Handling it myself like that? It was the heat of the moment last night, and maybe I acted without thinking. Too impulsive or?— ”
“Brady,” Mac said quietly, stilling the rambling thoughts pouring directly out of my mouth. Her gray eyes were soft with understanding. “I think you gave that kid and his mother a gift. Amos just doesn’t know it yet.”
I nodded, still unsure but happy to have Mac’s support.
When the scraps of the two inflatable tube men had been picked up, Mac and I stood side by side watching Jeff wave sadly in the cold morning air.
“Brad and Chad Junior will be here by Friday,” I offered.
“Oh, thank God,” she replied genuinely. “Jeff looked so lonely and pitiful.”
We shared a smile.
“Did you think it was hot when I did that flying tackle last night?” I asked, my eyebrows bouncing.
Mac tapped her chin. “You mean when you carelessly launched yourself at an intruder?”
“Well, it sounds less hot when you say it like?—”
“Or did you mean when you tackled a fourteen-year-old child to the muddy ground?”
“Okay, never mind.” I pressed a hand to my side. “I think I pulled something anyway.”
Mac laughed. An honest-to-God giggle that had me swaying closer to her, ready to plant a kiss on her grinning lips.
But then a bright “Hey, y’all!” sounded from behind us, and we stepped away from one another.
We turned to find my sister Candace approaching cheerfully, still in her running gear with her long brown hair in a sweaty ponytail.
“Do I have to separate you two?” Candy teased, reminding me that everyone in town still thought Mac and I hated each other.
I laughed half-heartedly as Mac said, “You know us,” in a perky tone that was as artificial as a banana Popsicle .
My sister looked at the two of us, a little wrinkle forming between her brow. “What are you up to this morning, Mac?”
Mac shifted on her feet, and I could tell that she was nervous about getting caught with me. “Oh, you know. I just heard about the incident last night and wanted to clear my name.” She gave an awkward chuckle. “Provide an alibi and all that.”
Candace laughed like Mac had told a funny joke. “Brady knows it’s not you. Actually, he caught the person last night. Just a kid being a kid. So you’re off the hook!”
“That’s great,” Mac managed.
Candy’s lips twitched, and she gave us both another curious look. “I was coming down to grab Brady for breakfast. Mom and Mercer are making biscuits and gravy. You should join us, Mac.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
“Nonsense. You’re my friend. It won’t be weird at all.”
I stood very still, like I was being stalked by an animal that could sense fear. And in a lot of ways, that was what a nosy sister was.
Candace tugged Mac in the direction of the house amid her protests, and eventually, I followed, equal parts reluctant and eager to see how this played out. If I was being honest, the curious part was winning, pleased at the possibility of having Mac in my family home among the people closest to me.
“Look who I found,” Candy announced proudly to everyone gathered in the kitchen.
My mother and father greeted Mac warmly. Between school and sports and the local business community, we’d been in each other’s orbits for so long that my family had known Mac since she was a little girl. She was commonly referred to as “the spitfire across the street who gave Brady a run for his money.”
Mac was polite, if a little stiff. It looked like she didn’t know what to do with her hands. After her second attempt to help with breakfast, my mom led her out of the kitchen to “get her opinion on something. ”
“What are you making me?” I asked Mercer, who was dutifully stirring something on the stovetop.
The big man didn’t take his eyes off the pan of bubbling liquid. “Amy’s teaching me to make her gravy.”
I smiled. My parents loved Mark Mercer. He was a model employee here on the farm, and now that he was dating Candace, I thought Mom and Dad both hoped he’d officially be family sooner rather than later. It was no secret that they’d considered him a son well before Candy came back home and started seeing him.
Joan was sitting at the breakfast nook, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper. I didn’t even know people under forty read the newspaper, but there my grouchy sister sat, still in her running gear, gaze scanning the newsprint.
In general, I liked to joke around and give Joan a hard time. It was good for her. At six years my senior, she was too serious and uptight for her own good.
“Good morning, Joanie.” I slid into the seat across from her.
Her blue eyes—the same pale shade as my own—stayed on the paper. “Did you get the inflatables cleaned up?”
“Yep,” I answered, popping the final letter obnoxiously. “Mac showed up and lent a hand.”
She smoothly turned the page, still focused on her reading. “That was nice of her, considering she was over late helping catch the burglar.”
The smile slipped from my face as sinking awareness took hold. I could hear Mac, Candace, and my parents chatting in the living room, but I couldn’t make out the words because my heart rate had tripled and blood pounded in my ears. What did my sister know about Mac and me?
I swallowed, attempting nonchalance. “What was that?”
Finally, Joan gave me her attention. “I have that security app on my phone, too, baby brother. And the camera feed works just fine.” Then my grumpy-ass sister smirked and went back to her newspaper.
So she knew that Mac had been with me last night. It wasn’t like we’d made out in sight of the cameras ... that time. Whatever Joan thought she knew, I knew I could bluff my way out of any trouble. It would be fine .
“Joanie,” I said evenly. “Whatever you’re thinking?—”
“I think ,” she interrupted firmly, “that it’s none of my business.”
I wanted to argue or explain, but just then, everyone returned to the kitchen. Mom took over for Mercer at the stove while he and Candace grabbed plates and utensils to set the table in the dining room.
Joan didn’t spare me a word or a glance as we all got seated and served ourselves. Mac sat beside me and became much more at ease as the meal progressed, which only seemed fair since I was the one all bent out of shape over my sister’s subtle accusation.
My focus had been entirely inward for the first part of breakfast. I’d eaten two gravy biscuits and three pieces of bacon before I felt a foot nudge me beneath the table.
I glanced up to find Mac watching me with obvious concern. You okay? she mouthed.
Nodding quickly, I flashed her a smile.
I didn’t know why I was so bothered. Joan had implied something was going on between Mac and me. It wasn’t the end of the world, but it might be the end of us if Mac got spooked by someone finding out. Yes, the secrecy thing had been my idea, but by now I could tell that Mac liked it. She enjoyed sneaking around. If that was how I had to hold her interest and keep her in this with me, then that’s what I would do. But I didn’t want harmless teasing from my older sister to impact that.
“Remember when Brady was, like, eight and refused to wear a shirt?” Candace said with a light in her eyes that indicated feral sibling torture was forthcoming.
“Is that why most of his photos on that shelf in the living room are of him topless?” Mac asked, looking amused and earning several laughs.
“It did last for a while,” my dad confirmed. “But I had a little man-to-man talk with him and broke the habit.”
I snorted at that. “No, you didn’t. Mom paid me a dollar after school every day that I kept my shirt on and the teacher didn’t have to call home.”
My father looked scandalized and betrayed. “Amy, is that true? ”
“Yep,” my mother replied without remorse.
“So the lesson is,” Mac began, “if you want Brady to do something, you have to give him a dollar?”
My family laughed, and I joined them.
When the conversation turned to the other end of the table, I leaned close to Mac and whispered, “That doesn’t work anymore. I’m an adult and prudently invested. I now require sexual favors.”
Mac choked on her orange juice, and a little dripped down her chin. I passed her a napkin, chuckling.
But when I glanced across the table and caught Joan watching us, I didn’t feel like laughing anymore.