Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
GRACE
M ack is acting strangely. He’s been distracted all day. Checking his phone every hour. What is with this man? Said device now lies on the kitchen counter in front of me as I rub seasoning into the skin of a whole chicken. I was instructed to make it for Sunday lunch that turned into early supper because of Harry’s workload this week. Buzzing, the phone vibrates over the hard surface. I dare a peek at the sender.
Ruby.
Curious.
“That my phone or yours?” He flies down the hallway and snatches his phone up from the countertop. Sliding the message open, a smile splits his handsome face. I fold my arms over my chest and raise an eyebrow.
“Something you wanna share with the class, Mackinlay?”
“Hey, what—” He’s furiously tapping out a reply, not looking up. He finally snaps his gaze up. “Huh, you say something?”
“Spill, Rawlins.”
He pecks my cheek. “Sorry, gorgeous girl. Can’t.” He practically bounces on his feet. The worn-out Wranglers and light blue T-shirt he’s wearing show off his shape that’s becoming more defined by the day. On long, determined strides, he’s out of sight before I have the chance to form a rebuttal. Shaking my head, I return my attention to the chicken. I plan on roasting it for an hour at Louisa’s.
It’s the first time I have made my favorite dish since Mississippi. Making this always makes me homesick. Parent-sick? Mama-sick, to be more specific. We used to make this together. I guess that’s why it became a staple when I lived in Mississippi, my way of clinging to the one person I desperately needed and missed. Miss.
I still miss Mama so bad.
Sometimes, I wonder if I shouldn’t anymore. I mean, I’m not a child anymore. Or a frustrated teen. But her warm cuddles. The sounds of her chuckle. The way she would hug me, one arm around my waist, the other behind my neck, drawing her forehead to mine...
Today is exactly six months since my twenty-first birthday. Another thing I lost, not having Mama there for that particular milestone. Wetness splashes the counter between the roasting tray and the marble edge. Thickness coats my airways, and a burn blooms at the bridge of my nose.
I never thought there would come a day when my mom wasn’t a part of my life. Then I blinked, and she wasn’t. Now, I’m miles away from her. It may as well be an entire continent. I chug a sob, rubbing the seasoning in some more. Sorry, chicken, but this hurt’s got to go somewhere. I rub the shoulder of my sleeve over one eye, then do the same with the other.
Losing her is the thing I regret most. The one thing I would change if I could.
The rest taught me about myself.
Mothers and daughters aren’t built to be separated.
Not this daughter, at least.
Warm arms fold around me. “Be ready to go in an hour?” His stubbled chin drops to my shoulder, his jaw scratching the hollow where my neck meets my shoulder. I giggle a sob-laugh. “Must be one depressing bird to have this girl all choked up,” he says.
“Must be...” I rest my cheek on his head and breathe him in. After the sadness has dissipated, I dot a kiss to his temple and stand tall. “Me and Cheryl here will be dressed and set to supper in no time.”
“Cheryl?”
“That’s this delicious girl’s name.”
“Grace, baby, you can’t name the bird you’re eatin’.”
“Why not? She deserves respect, too. Just because we are higher up the food chain doesn’t mean we have to behave like animals, Mackinlay.”
He chuckles. “You are too sweet for your own good, you know that, right?”
“Painfully aware.”
I think back to all the stupid second, third, tenth chances I gave Joel. Too naive, more like it. Mack shifts on his feet, glancing at the time. Shifty is an excellent word to describe this man today. He has me intrigued, to say the least.
He claps his hands. “I’m gonna go change. Wear somethin’ nice, okay?”
“Sure.” I place the cut veggies I prepped earlier around the bird in the roasting pan and cover it with plastic wrap before sliding Cheryl into her spot in the fridge until we go. Passing the yoga room, I hesitate, running an eye over my painting set up. It’s lame. I need to get organized. I would love to paint and maybe one day sell some.
Grabbing a quick shower, I wash my hair and towel it off before slipping on the blue dress I found last week at the charity store. It’s pale blue with small peach floral clusters. It starts with a deep V-neck silhouette that’s centered with a waist band, and three-quarter sleeves that end in a gathered trim. A full A-line skirt that ends at my knees and sways when I move. This dress makes me feel pretty. I decide on light makeup this time. I blow out my hair and leave it to hang around my shoulders in light waves. A small, silent celebration of my own.
Twenty-one-and-a-half years old.
I feel younger, sometimes. On the bad days.
It hits me as I stare at my reflection—aged since the day I arrived here—that it’s been a long while since a bad day has found me. Emotion flares again, and I blink the tears back, not wanting to spoil my face, no matter how simple it is.
After I’m dressed and done up, I wander toward Mack’s room. I can smell his cologne. The scent flips my gut over in an instant. He appears, clean-shaven, wearing a navy dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of dark jeans. Something like nerves roots me to the spot. My mouth gapes.
He leans sideways, his top half disappearing for a moment. Reappearing, he wears a black cowboy hat. My heart is wedged tight in my throat a second later.
Holy hurling heavens.
“Mackinlay...” The word is more like a breathy moan. Heat flushes my face.
“You look stunning, gorgeous girl.” He dots a kiss to the crown of my head and grabs my hand, pulling me down the hallway. His shiny boots clack on the wood floor. My silver flats scuff behind, and I am grateful I chose to do my makeup and hair after seeing him all dressed up.
I grab my bag and phone from the small front table as Mack collects Cheryl and two six-packs of beer. I hold the door for him, and we head for the barn. I grab the back driver’s side door, pulling it open as he places the chicken and beer in safely.
The passenger door opens from the inside. Mack is leaning over, corded arms flexing as he waits for me to open it further and climb on up into the truck. I slide into my seat. But I don’t put my seat belt on; instead I turn to face him as he starts the engine. I can’t take my eyes from his jaw, those dark blue eyes, the goddamn hat. My breaths shallow out in no time.
The Chevy rumbles to life.
Mack slides his chair back before rubbing a hand over his clean-shaven face. “Come here, Gracie.”
“Okay . . .” I don’t move.
“I’m not askin’, gorgeous.” His eyes burn. He plucks the hat from his head and plants it onto mine. “Here, now.”
Bunching up my skirt, I maneuver over the center console and sink onto his lap. He’s hard already. The second I’m settled in place, his hands are on my face. “You’re killin’ me in that dress.”
A smile grows over my face. “Can’t have that.” I pull one side of the top aside. One of the perks of the design—at least, I thought so when I found it in the shop.
The light yellow lace bra pops out and Mack drops his head back onto the headrest, slamming his eyes shut. “Sweet Jesus.”
“They are all yours, Mackinlay.”
“Fuck, Grace. We won’t even make it to Rosewood at this rate.”
“Maybe we don’t have to?—”
“Nope, we’re going alright. Just have one thing to do before we go.”
“Oh?” I ask, breathless.
“I wanna see your beautiful face fall apart as you come on mine.”
If I had words, which I don’t, I would scream yes please to the heavens. But they’re stuck somewhere deep, because nothing comes when I open my mouth to respond. Mack grabs the hold bar above us and flips us over, depositing me on the driver’s seat. I can’t help the giggle that huffs from my lips. He shuffles backward, sliding one leg out the door and planting his foot on the ground.
“You sure this is okay with your hip?” I protest with breathy words.
He’s disappeared under my blue skirt a heartbeat later. His tongue runs over the already soaked panties, from start to finish. My hands grip the sides of the seat, chest heaving as he taps my inner thigh. I lift up and my panties are on the dash before I drop back down.
“Wait,” I breathe.
He pops out from under the fabric. “You okay, gorgeous?”
I shake my head.
His brows lower.
“Please, kiss me.”
He crawls up the seat, a hand pushing him up on the console with the other cupping my face. His lips meet mine, and I open so fast. Drowning. Falling. As his tongue sweeps and caresses, I soak him in, gripping his face like he’s my lifeline. After a long, slow day and thoughts of all I have lost, I want him close.
I turn my head when I have to come up for air and he nudges my chin with his nose. “Never be afraid to ask for the things you need, Gracie.” His words rumble against my chest. I run my hands through his hair. His drift to my stomach.
“I won’t.”
“Promise me, whatever you need, you’ll ask for it. There’s nothing you could do or say that would?—”
I grab his head and raise it so his eyes are on me. “I promise. I will. But it goes both ways, okay?”
He nods. Cheek floods his face a moment later and he swings under my dress again. I lie on the seat and let the man I adore wake me up.
In the best way possible.
He runs his tongue through my center.
Slow.
I arch from the seat and whimper.
“Fuck me , Mackinlay.”
His hearty chuckle against my soaked center sends me higher.
We are going to be so late . . .
Louisa meets us at the white gate to her homestead yard. We are absolutely late. The fairy lights hung throughout the old trees are lit up, turning the space around us into a wonderland. Ruby’s influence, so I have been told. It’s stunning. She did good.
“You’re here!” Louisa pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m so sorry we’re late,” I say softly.
Mack files in behind me with Cheryl and the beers, and Louisa steps away and pins him with her best mom glare. “I’m guessin’ that’s your fault?”
“Guilty,” he says with a wry smile before his gaze slips to me. “Where you want Cheryl, Gracie?”
“She needs an hour at least. Can I heat up the oven, Louisa?”
“Oh, hon, it’s already on. Moderate heat. Ready to go. Who’s Cheryl, and why are we cookin’ her?” Her face pulls with confusion.
“Long story, Ma,” Mack says as he heads inside with the roasting tray and armful of drinks. Addy and Ruby hustle out the door in a hurry and sweep me away from Louisa. We head inside. Harry sits at the kitchen table. He’s in his good clothes, too.
Okay, what gives? I thought he had a huge workday...
I run an eye over Ruby. She wears a floaty white dress with pink-topped boots. Addy is in a yellow summer dress and flats. Both women have their makeup done, wearing dangly earrings. And they both smell divine!
“I love your perfume,” I offer Ruby as she plants me on the sofa by the hearth.
“Thanks. It’s Coach.”
She sure does like nice things.
“You like perfume, Grace?” Addy asks.
“Um, yes. I guess. I’ve never bought it for myself before, but?—”
“Great!” Ruby squeaks. “We, ah, need to grab the entrée. Give me a hand, Adds?”
Addy smiles at me and pats my hand like a child. “Be right back. You want some wine?”
“Sure, white?”
She springs from the sofa and glides into the kitchen. Now I’m sure something is amiss. They’re always sweet to me, but their overeagerness is unnerving. My gut flips. I wring my hands in the paisley fabric and stare into the hearth, racking my brain as to why everyone, except maybe Louisa, is acting odd.
A glass of wine appears in front of me, and I pluck it from Ruby’s hand. Her elegant fingers finish in baby pink nails. Her hair is wavy, her brown eyes lit up as she drops to the sofa beside me. “Okay, I can’t keep a secret to save myself, so here goes. We wanted to do something for your birthday.”
What?
The air leaves my lungs and doesn’t return. My mouth opens. Nothing comes.
Ruby raises a hand. “We realize it was a little while ago. We also know it was a big milestone birthday. And the Rawlinses are not ones to let a significant date go by without celebrating it. So this, Grace Weston, is your twenty-first birthday soiree!”
I’m literally speechless.
“You and I are going to go out back, where the boys have put together a little party. It’s not much, just us, but we all wanted to do something for you.”
I clear my throat and suck in a breath. “Well, that explains Mackinlay.”
Ruby laughs and sips her wine. “I bet it does. He’s fond of you, Grace.”
I choke on the sweet liquid in my mouth. Somewhat recovered, I mutter, “That’s one way to put it.”
“Ready when you two are,” Reed calls from the back door.
Watching Ruby’s face bloom at the sound of his voice makes my heart ache. Gosh, those two are so incredible. Ruby stands and extends a hand. “Come on, birthday girl.”
I take her hand, and we pad down the hall. Nerves spring to life, like any minute now, the entire family is going to realize they made a mistake. I’m not worth their time. Too young for their son. That I am taking their hard-earned money while I’m fooling around with Mack. I sip the drink, letting it burn my throat.
I stall, stopping in the hallway shy of the door.
“It’s okay, Grace. Only people who love you are here.”
Her brown eyes find mine, and I understand.
This kind of love is unconditional.