Chapter 9 Mac
9
MAC
JANUARY. FOUR MONTHS AGO.
Why the hell was I checking my hair?
I stood in front of the tiny mirror in my bathroom, running a hand through the unruly mess on top of my head. My reflection stared back, brows pinched in confusion as I tilted my head left, then right. With a huff, I wet my fingers and smoothed down the stubborn flyaways—not too much, just enough to look somewhat put together.
Not that Penny cared.
She liked me a little rough around the edges, liked when I was unkempt and untamed. But I cared. I wanted to impress her. Somehow, against all odds, I was completely and utterly smitten. A word that had never once existed in my vocabulary until Penny Hudson crashed into my life like a beautifully reckless storm.
Trouble.
Smirking to myself, I checked my teeth in the mirror next, swishing some mouthwash for good measure before flicking off the light and stepping back into my apartment.
I had a pep in my step since October—since the night I finally snapped, pulled Penny into me, and let my desire for her take the lead. I’d always been the type to go after what I wanted, never one to hesitate, never one to care too much about how people saw me. Their expectations didn’t mean a damn thing.
But lately?
I cared about her expectations. I cared about what Penny thought and how she felt. Enough that I was making sure I looked decent just to show up at her door.
That was the thing about Penny.
She was trouble—the kind that settled deep under your skin, the kind that made a man obsessed without him even realizing it. That woman had a pull like no other. She walked into a room, and people noticed. She didn’t ask for attention; she commanded it. And somehow, against every odd, I was the lucky bastard who got to have those deep brown eyes locked on me.
Damn, if that didn’t make me the richest man in the world.
Stepping into my cowboy boots, I tugged my jeans over the tops and adjusted the Henley that clung to my frame. With my keys, wallet, and phone in hand, I strode out the door.
Jogging down the steps to the main bar, I wove through the crowd that had already gathered. Tonight was my night off, and I planned on taking full advantage of it.
Dudley was behind the bar, working alongside Jolie, their movements fluid as they kept up with the steady stream of orders. I threw up a lazy salute in Dudley’s direction, and he returned it without missing a beat, already pouring a drink for the next customer.
The night sky was thick with clouds, swallowing up the stars and leaving the town cast in an eerie half-darkness. Rain threatened on the horizon, the kind that could roll in fast and leave you drenched before you had a chance to curse at it. Penny didn’t live far—just a few blocks—but I wasn’t about to risk getting soaked walking home later.
Rounding the corner, I picked up my pace, making my way to my truck. The old beater sat under the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, its rusted fenders and dented body a familiar sight. When I yanked open the door, it let out the same ear-piercing squeak it always did.
Sliding behind the wheel, I turned the key in the ignition. The engine grumbled to life before throwing it into drive. The town was quiet, the streets nearly empty with the occasional light glowing in the distance.
Within minutes, I was parked a few doors down from Petal Pusher, the flower shop Penny lived above.
Parking a little away from the shop was imperative so people wouldn’t put together that Penny and I were seeing each other.
Neither of us wanted that.
The rain started to fall, fat droplets splattering against the windshield.
Ducking into the vestibule, I shook the dampness from my hair and glanced toward the warmly lit shop. Before heading up to Penny’s door, I poked my head inside.
“Sandy!” I called out, ruffling a hand through my wet hair before tucking a strand behind my ear, and making my way inside.
From behind the counter, Sandy held up a finger, silently telling me to wait while she finished counting the register. I smirked and rocked back on my heels, slipping my hands into my front pockets as I took in the shop.
The exposed brick walls, the bursts of color from the carefully arranged displays, the lingering scent of fresh blooms—it was cozy, a stark contrast to the storm creeping in outside.
The sharp slam of the register drawer snapped my attention back.
“You on your way up to see our girl?” Sandy asked, leaning forward on the butcher block counter with a knowing grin.
I nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
With a tap on the counter, she turned, rummaging behind her for something. When she faced me again, she held out a single red rose.
I stopped in often, always grabbing flowers for Penny. Sandy knew the drill.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my wallet, peeling off a few bills. “Keep the change,” I said, offering her a smile as I extended my hand for the rose.
Sandy just shook her head. “It was an extra. You just take it up to her, okay?”
Not wanting to tell the woman no because I knew I’d never get away with it, I took the flower. “You need anything before I head up?”
She shook her head and waved me off. With simple goodbyes, I departed, exiting through the front door.
When I got to Penny’s door, I looked down at the doormat, which read, “Come On In I’m Still Not Ready,” and chuckled. Raising my fist, I knocked against her door, waiting for the familiar sound of her voice.
“It’s open!” Penny called, her voice muffled but warm.
I turned the knob and pushed the door open, immediately hit with the mouthwatering scent of garlic.
“You really should lock this,” I said, kicking off my wet boots and leaving them by the entrance before stepping further inside.
Penny never locked her door. Her ability to trust was endearing and also incredibly frightening.
The walls of her apartment were a vibrant mismatch of color, covered in gold-framed paintings of all shapes and sizes. Nothing matched, but everything radiated with personality—just like her.
Soft music hummed from the kitchen, a melody weaving through the air, pulling me in.
I found her at the counter, rolling out pizza dough, her hips swaying lazily to the beat. A small smile tugged at my lips. She had no idea how effortlessly beautiful she was—how damn intoxicating the sight of her could be.
She wore the cutest apron, dotted with tiny pink flowers, her hair piled into a messy top knot. A few stray curls had escaped, framing her face. I had the sudden urge to reach out, to tuck them behind her ear just for an excuse to touch her.
“Meh,” she said, not bothering to look up as she pressed her fingers into the dough. “I could take whoever decided to come through that door. Joke’s on them, I have a taser.”
She finally glanced up, flashing me a lopsided grin—the kind that sent a spark straight through my chest.
I chuckled, stepping closer. “You and a taser sound like a dangerous combination.”
Before she could fire back, I leaned in, brushing a kiss against her cheek, letting my lips linger just long enough to feel the heat rise beneath her skin.
Penny giggled, leaning into my kiss, soft and warm against me. When I finally pulled away, I leaned my hip against the counter as I watched her.
“I have something for you,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended.
Her eyes snapped up to mine, curiosity flickering in their depths. She paused mid-knead, flour-dusted fingers stilled against the dough, giving me her full attention.
I pulled out the rose from behind my back.
Her lips parted slightly, eyes widening as they flickered from the flower to my face. Slowly, as if savoring the moment, she reached out, her delicate fingers brushing against mine as she took the stem. That simple touch sent a spark straight through me, heat pooling beneath my skin.
“Mac,” she sighed, her voice wrapping around my name like silk.
Bringing the rose to her nose, she inhaled deeply, a smile blooming across her face.
I simply stood there, watching her, completely and utterly mesmerized because that’s all I could do. The way she twirled the flower between her fingers, the way she savored something so small—it made my chest tighten, and something profound inside me shifted.
A feeling I’d never had before. A sensation I wasn’t sure how to name, but one I knew, without a doubt, belonged to her.
Without thinking, I gave in to the temptation and reached out, tucking a stray wisp of hair behind her ear. My fingers grazed gently against her ear as I did.
“What can I do to help?” I asked, my voice a little rougher than before.
Penny scoffed, turning away, but not before I caught the smile playing on her lips. She moved with a sway that was impossible to ignore, her fitted leggings hugging her curves, her cropped sweater teasing just the smallest sliver of skin.
I was done for.
“I already kneaded the dough for both pizzas,” she said, placing the rose into the pitcher on the table. “You can add the sauce.”
Snapping myself out of whatever daze she’d put me in, I pushed off the counter, moving toward the drawer. I grabbed a spoon, popped the lid off the jar sitting nearby, and tried to focus.
Tried.
Because Penny Hudson made it real damn hard to concentrate on anything other than her.
Like we’d fallen into some unspoken rhythm, Penny came up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and resting her cheek against my back.
The warmth of her, the way she fit so easily against me, settled me.
“How was your day?” I asked, taking a dollop of sauce and spreading it in the center of the dough.
“Pretty calm,” she murmured, giving me one last squeeze before slipping away, leaving the heat of her touch lingering. “Boone came by today and read The Cat in the Hat to a group of kids.”
Behind me, the fridge door opened and closed, and then Penny was beside me again, her shoulder brushing mine as I worked the sauce over the dough.
I huffed out a laugh. “Are you shitting me?” That man was too damn much for his own good.
“Nope. All the moms stayed for once, too.” I slid the first pizza toward her, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “I can’t blame them. A man in a cowboy hat and a mustache?”
My hand stilled, fingers tightening around the spoon. My eyes cut to hers, narrowing slightly. I knew she was teasing, but something in my gut twisted at the thought of her thinking of anyone else besides me.
Penny let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying herself, and sprinkled cheese onto the pizza before reaching for the next one.
“Not to mention,” she added, sliding the first pizza into the oven. I turned, my back pressing against the counter, grabbing a towel to wipe my hands. “Reading to little kids?”
She was testing me.
Taunting me.
Penny loved knowing when she had me right where she wanted me—wrapped around her damn finger.
I let out a slow, measured breath, my gaze raking over her as she came back toward me. She was waiting for me to take the bait, but I held my ground, saying nothing. Instead, I watched, arms crossed, as she layered cheese over the last pizza, then placed the pepperoni just how I liked it before sliding that one into the oven as well.
Satisfied, she turned, wiping her hands on the towel I hadn’t even realized she’d taken from me. Strong eye contact. A teasing grin.
“You know,” I drawled, stepping closer, placing my hands on her hips, and pulling her flush against me, “I can come read, too. If you ever need someone.”
Penny tilted her head, her arms looping lazily around my neck.
“You can read? Maybe you’ll have to come visit me at work to sign up for a library card,” she teased.
Damn woman.
“Ha-ha,” I said, locking eyes with her deep brown ones. That sparkle—playful, full of mischief—never dulled. “You’d be surprised. There’s a lot I can do that you don’t know about.”
Penny arched a brow, amusement flickering across her face. “Is that so?”
Grinning, I reached behind me, grabbed her phone from the counter, and turned up the volume, letting the soft strum of music fill the air. The melody wrapped around us, thick and warm.
Moving from her grip, I put enough distance between us to hold out my hand. She eyed it skeptically, hesitation flickering in her expression, but after a beat, she placed hers in mine.
I loved the way curiosity played across her features—the way her brows pulled together just slightly, her lips twitching like she was trying to figure me out.
Still holding her gaze, I tugged her away from the kitchen and into the open space of her living room. With a quick flick of my wrist, I spun her in a slow, graceful circle, then pulled her flush against me.
Our bodies pressed together, and I swayed us to the music.
In the middle of her apartment, under the soft glow of lamplight, we danced—our own little world wrapped up in the sound of an old country love song.
I led us into an easy two-step, guiding her left before shifting our bodies in sync. With each turn, each playful sway, I let my touch linger, fingers trailing down her arms, her back. The heat between us simmered—familiar and intoxicating.
Then, with a teasing grin, I spun her out again, only to bring her right back in, catching her against my chest.
“Okay, look at you go,” she said breathlessly, her laughter bright as she looked up at me. “Who knew Mac Ridley had moves?”
I chuckled, keeping my grip steady. “This is the extent of my dancing.”
Slow swaying, a two-step, and a few simple twirls were all I needed to know to impress anyone. Anything past this became very questionable.
Penny smirked. “Oh, I don’t know… I think you’ve got a little more in you.”
She dipped back playfully, trusting me to hold her, and when I did, she laughed before righting herself, her arms looping around my neck.
The song slowed, and with it, so did we.
Penny rested her head against my chest, and I let my chin brush the top of her hair, breathing her in. Our sock-covered feet glided effortlessly across the wooden floor, moving in perfect sync, like we’d been dancing together our whole lives.
And with every step, every twirl, I felt myself sinking deeper into her.
She glanced up, that familiar longing glimmering in her eyes, and just like that—I softened.
Completely.
Hopelessly.
And I knew right then… I was a goner for this woman.