Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
NATE
The moment Mackenzie slid into my truck, I knew something was off. Her smile is tight while her fingers drum against her thigh like she’s keeping time with a silent song. But it’s her eyes that give her away. They’re too bright, too guarded. It’s like she’s bracing for impact.
She doesn’t want to talk about it. Not yet. So I won’t push.
For now.
“Here you go.” I sit her old-fashioned in front of her and take the chair across from her. Our table is tucked in the back of the bar, out of the fray of the Friday night crowd. A quiet corner made for us.
She lifts a brow as curiosity sparks through whatever’s weighing her down. “How did you know what drink I like?”
Shit. Rookie mistake.
I only know because her husband used to gripe about it when he was drunk, back when he was still alive. But I can’t exactly tell her that.
I lean back, playing it off with a wink. “You look like an old-fashioned kind of girl.”
She snorts. “Not sure that’s a compliment or an insult. ”
I grin. “It means you’ve got taste. Classic. Timeless.” I pause, letting my eyes sweep over her deliberately. “And strong.”
She scoffs but doesn’t hide the way her lips twitch upward. “Nice recovery.”
“Wasn’t a recovery.”
She hums but takes a sip anyway.
I let the moment stretch, then nod toward her drink. “Well?”
Her tongue darts out and catches a stray drop on her lip. I track the movement, fighting the urge to shift in my seat.
Finally, she exhales, setting the glass down. “I’ll allow it.”
“Good to know I have your approval.”
She tilts her head. “Cocky, aren’t you?”
“I prefer confident.”
Shaking her head, she points to my bottle. “What did you settle on?”
“Double Goose. It’s a local craft beer. I thought I’d keep it light tonight since I’m driving, but I’ve been known to like my bourbon. I’m more of a neat guy, though.”
“As you can probably tell, I’m on the opposite spectrum of neat.”
“I may have noticed.”
We talk. We drink. The weight of her shoulders eases just a little. But when she goes quiet and traces the rim of her glass, I know it’s coming.
“What’s bothering you?”
She hesitates and then blows out a breath. “It’s my brother.”
My insides steel. I should’ve known if Jordan had something to say to me, he’d have something to say to her.
“Yeah, he paid me a visit earlier at practice.”
Anger flashes in her eyes as they snap to mine. “He what?”
“Warned me to stay away.” I gesture toward her. “As you can tell, I listened well.”
That earns me a half-hearted laugh. “I’m sorry. My idiot brother thinks you have some ulterior motive. He’s beyond ridiculous. ”
I don’t answer right away. Because the thing is, he’s not exactly wrong.
I may have started this whole thing with an ulterior motive, but things changed along the way—I’m not sure when.
“He’s just looking out for you,” I say instead.
She huffs. “More like trying to run my life.”
I let her vent, watching as she relaxes the more she talks.
I shake my head when she mentions Liam’s birthday and the dirtbike debate. “That’s not an unreasonable concern. Has Liam even asked for one?”
“No! He doesn’t even watch Motocross. I swear, Jordan gets on these whims and won’t let them go.” She swirls the drink around her glass and then takes a sip. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m overprotective. It’s not like he has a male influence in his life.”
Ouch.
That shouldn’t sting. I haven’t been around long enough to count. But still.
I school my expression, keeping my voice light. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”
She shrugs, not looking convinced.
“Maybe you’re worrying for nothing. Surely, Jordan will listen to you. I mean, a dirtbike is an expensive gift.”
“Good point. I probably am worrying for nothing.”
“I doubt your brother goes to the effort.”
“You’ve never mentioned having any annoying siblings. Any brothers or sisters that you hate to claim?”
“No. I was an only child.”
“Sometimes I wish I were, but as annoying as Jordan can be, I wouldn’t trade him for anything. But I have to deal with him, you know?”
“I used to want a brother, but I was glad I never had one after I got older. My dad. . .” I hesitate, not knowing how much to disclose. “He isn’t the nicest of guys.” I certainly wouldn’t want anyone else exposed to his belittling ways. “I wasn’t good enough in his eyes. ”
“Seriously? I can’t imagine you were a hellacious child. Were his expectations too high?”
“Something like that. One example, he wanted a brawny jock. I was more into academia. I liked learning about cellular biology more than chasing a ball. Most kids read Sports Illustrated . I was the weird one reading National Geographic .”
She eyes my biceps and broad shoulders. “Were you scrawny as a kid? Because you’re all brawn now.”
My chuckle is as light as I try to keep the conversation. “I was normal, and before you ask, I was decent at sports. But they never held my attention.” Maybe because the prick wanted me to be the best. If I played football, he pushed for me to be the quarterback. If I played baseball, he wanted me to be a pitcher. I had to dominate on the field. To be nothing but the best.
“Do you want to return to your San Francisco roots?”
My jaw hardens to keep from cringing. Why the fuck did I say I was from there? The worst part is that too much time has passed to correct the lie. If I admit I’m originally from San Diego, she’ll question everything I’ve said. I can’t risk that, but I give her a slice of truth.
“I don’t have roots. Guess I haven’t found a place I’d want to put them down.” I especially don’t want to return to where my old man resides.
Her gaze lingers as if searching for something. “Yeah, I get that.”
She hesitates and then, almost like she’s testing the waters, adds, “Besides, my dad is in jail. Did I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“He’s a conman.”
That’s something we have in common.
Before I can respond, a voice cuts in.
“Mackenzie Gillman, is that you?”
We both turn to an eager-looking woman a few years to Mackenzie’s senior.
Mackenzie pastes on a polite smile. “Linda. How have you been? ”
Linda barely acknowledges her before shifting her focus to me. “And is this the Nate Dixon? I’ve heard all about you.”
Her gaze ping-pongs between Mackenzie and me, but her pause isn’t long enough for neither one of us to jump in.
“And you’re here having drinks . . . together . Isn’t that nice?”
I’m at a loss for words. Any answer feels like stepping into a trap.
Before I can figure out how to defuse the situation, Mackenzie sighs. “Nate’s been helping me with the kids while I study.”
“I’m sure he has.” Linda turns her laser focus on me. “I bet you’re gathering all sorts of information, huh?”
What the hell?
I blink. “Uh, I’m not sure what you mean.”
She wags a finger at me. “Oh, you’re good.”
Mackenzie stifles a laugh while I sit there dumbfounded.
Linda leans in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “High-level classification stuff. I get it.”
I stare, still lost.
“Don’t worry. Your secrets are safe with me.” She smacks my arm, winks, and saunters off, probably to spread whatever ridiculous theory she’s concocted.
Mackenzie grins. “Oh, boy.”
I exhale. “What the hell was that?”
Mackenzie leans across the table as if she’s the one with hot gossip. “Rumor has it, you’re writing a spy novel. Or you’re the new James Bond.”
“So, does this make you my Bond Girl?” I arch a brow. “Do I get to have my wicked way with you later?”
Mirth dances in her eyes as she smirks over the rim of her glass. “Hmm. We’ll have to see how cunning you are.”
I watch as her lips wrap around the rim and take a sip. The simple move has me shifting in my seat. Damn, what I want those lips to do.
“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”
Her breath catches, just for a second .
Then she recovers, raising her glass. “Careful, Dixon. Promises like that can get a guy in trouble.”
I lean in. “Maybe I like trouble.”
Her grin widens until her gaze flicks toward the bar.
Linda whispers to someone else, and both sneak glances our way.
Mackenzie groans. “I’m not ready to answer people’s questions.”
“You don’t have to.” I give Mackenzie a wry smile. How our conversation segued into a discussion about our fathers and town gossipers is beyond me. I need to step up my dating game. “Look at us talking about shitty dads and dodging gossip hounds when we’re supposed to be having fun.” I push to my feet and grab her hand. “What do you say? Let’s show them how it’s done.”
Her eyes stay focused on me as she lifts to her feet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” I nod and lead her to the dance floor. The jukebox has been playing country songs all night, so when in Rome... I lean down and ask, “Come on, Let’s two-step.”
“You any good?”
“Not even a little.”
She slides her hand into mine, letting me pull her onto the floor. “Here’s a secret, sweetheart. Neither am I.”
I grin. “Guess we’ll just have to figure it out together.”
And just like that, she lets go for the first time all night.
And I swear to God, I never want her to stop.