Chapter 13 Mac
13
MAC
“Grovel,” I muttered to myself, rolling the word around on my tongue like it was foreign. Well, because it was.
Tapping a pencil against the edge of my small dining room table, I stared at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. My phone lay open beside it, the search engine filled with articles, forums, and desperate advice from men who had clearly screwed up just as badly as I had.
The more I scrolled, the more I realized one thing—I’d never done this before. Not once in my life. I didn’t even know where to begin.
I could think of a million small, subtle gestures, but none of them would do.
Penny deserved more than easy. She deserved something real. Something that made it crystal fucking clear that I wasn’t just sorry—I was hers, if she’d still have me.
After she’d thrown down that challenge, she all but shoved me out the door, making it clear I’d overstayed my welcome. And yeah, maybe I’d pushed her, worn her down, forced her hand into giving me the slightest crack of hope. But I wasn’t ashamed of it.
I was a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
And I wanted Penny Hudson—desperately.
Sitting in my apartment, drink in hand, I let the possibilities race through my mind. All the ways I could show her. Prove to her. Win her back because one thing was certain.
I’d make groveling my bitch. I’d do whatever it took.
Losing her for good? That wasn’t an option.
And my end goal? To take whatever we had and mend it into something more. Something real.
No more sneaking around, no more stolen moments behind closed doors. I wanted her in the daylight, out in the open, where everyone could see that this was more than just a passing fling.
I was about to kick this groveling shit into high gear.
I’d flirt, I’d charm, I’d win her over because Penny was going to be mine again, for good.
But first, I needed a plan. A damn good one.
I sat at my dining table, pen poised over a blank sheet of paper, ready to map out my strategy. Stage one—small, thoughtful gestures to break through the walls she’d built around herself. I couldn’t come on too strong, couldn’t lay my entire hand on the table just yet.
Patience was key.
Instant gratification wasn’t an option this time.
Next to me, Angus sat with a heavy sigh, watching me with those big, soulful eyes. His pink tongue lolled out, while I was here, drowning in my own indecision.
“What do you think?” I asked, waiting like he’d actually answer.
When he didn’t, I dropped my pen onto the table and reached out, rubbing behind his ears. He tilted his head into my touch, groaning like he didn’t give a shit what I was going through; all he wanted was for me to keep giving him the attention.
“What can I do?” I mused, thinking out loud.
My mind was blank.
Not just blank—completely useless, like that damn cartoon monkey clashing cymbals together inside my head.
I needed inspiration. Guidance. Something.
With a sigh, I bent down and kissed Angus on the snout. He licked my chin in return, tail thumping against the floor like he approved of whatever scheme I was about to cook up.
Laughing, I gave him one strong pat before standing up and grabbing my pen again. I started pacing, tapping the end of it against my chin.
“Think, Mac. Think.”
Flowers? Too cliché—but let’s be real, I’d probably end up buying a hell of a lot of them anyway.
Chocolate? No, Penny wasn’t into sweets. She liked fruit. Apples, mostly.
Maybe I could bake her something?
Jesus, no. I was a terrible cook.
The last thing I wanted was to poison the woman I was trying to win back. That would just create more problems for me, and I couldn’t afford another setback.
I let out another sigh, stopping at the table to stare down at my paper.
I needed something personal. Something that would remind her why we worked.
In those months we’d spent, we’d learned so much about each other, this should be fucking easy.
My boots scuffed against the floor as my thoughts churned, resuming my pacing once more.
Movement helped me think. Sitting still drove me crazy—it always had.
That was why bartending suited me so well. The constant motion, the rush of orders, the feeling that my hands were never idle. My brain thrived in chaos.
Penny was the same way. One of the many things we had in common, one of the things that made us click from the start.
Since we both thrived on experience, maybe I should take her somewhere new, something she would never forget.
I rifled through my memories, mentally flipping through the folder labeled All Things Penny. Conversations we’d had, little things she’d mentioned, places she’d always wanted to go.
And yet, the second I reached for something solid, the drawer in my mind jammed shut.
“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned, tossing my pen onto the table with a sharp clatter.
I hated admitting when I was out of my depth, but I couldn’t do this on my own. I needed help, which meant swallowing my damn pride and going to the one person who knew Penny better than anyone.
Determined, I grabbed my jacket off the back of the couch and shrugged it on. My fingers tapped against my pockets, checking for the essentials—phone, wallet, keys.
Then, without another thought to talk myself out of the decision, I stormed out the door.
The tires crunched over the gravel driveway leading up to the cabins on Cassidy Ranch. The Texas sun blazed overhead, not a single cloud in sight to offer even a hint of relief from the growing heat.
Pastures stretched endlessly around me, speckled with grazing horses and cattle, their slow movements contrasting the quickened beat of my pulse.
Growing up around guys like Boone and the others, you’d think I would’ve ended up just like them—spending my days working cattle, sweating under the open sky, putting in hard hours in any and every condition. But I’d never had much interest in that life. The bar was easy. Convenient. At first, it was a steady gig that didn’t ask much of me beyond pouring drinks, making conversation, and keeping the lights on. Now, I’ve come to love it and couldn’t see myself anywhere else.
Still, there were days—especially when my dad was still alive—when I’d wondered if I should’ve done something different. If maybe I had it in me to follow in his footsteps.
I shook off the thought as quickly as it came. I knew I wasn’t cut out for that life.
I pulled my truck to a stop in front of the better-kept cabin on the property. Flowers overflowed from ceramic pots on the porch, the swing draped with throw pillows and a knitted blanket that fluttered slightly in the warm breeze.
Taking a final drag of my cigarette, I let the smoke linger for a second before exhaling, then crushed the ember out in the ashtray in my cupholder.
Here goes nothing.
Time to do something else I wasn’t used to doing—asking for help.
Shoving my hands deep into my front pockets, I made my way up the steps, but before I could knock, the door swung open.
Aspen stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows pulled tight as she studied me with a mix of confusion and suspicion. One hip popped out as she assessed me, waiting for an explanation.
I never showed up at her place, especially without warning, so her curiosity was warranted.
“Hi,” I exhaled. “I know I’m here unannounced, but I need your help. And I promise to tell you everything, on one condition.”
Aspen scoffed, and she playfully shook her head. “Why would I agree to something before knowing what it is?”
“Because it has to do with your best friend,” I said, voice steady but low. “And righting my wrongs.”
Her expression shifted in an instant, skepticism giving way to something else.
She hesitated only for a moment before stepping aside, but I didn’t move just yet. I needed her to agree before I stepped inside.
“Promise me you won’t tell anyone,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. My eyes flicked toward the neighboring house. If Boone finds out I’m here, he’ll eat this up like it’s his last damn meal.
I pointed at her, my tone firm. “Not even Boone.”
Aspen’s brows shot up, and she let out a low whistle. “This must be serious.”
My skin prickled with heat, embarrassment creeping up my neck like a slow burn. I swallowed hard, then admitted, “I fucked up.”
Aspen’s lips parted slightly, but whatever she was about to say, she must’ve thought better of it. Instead, she gave me a quick nod, then gestured sharply with her hands.
“Okay, fine—but get inside before Boone sees you. Then I have to tell him.”
I didn’t need to be told twice.
I slipped past her, the door clicking shut behind me.
“I have to say, I’m surprised you came to see me,” Aspen added, her voice dripping with curiosity as she trailed behind me.
I barely made it to her open living room before spinning on my heel, hands planted on my hips. She was in the kitchen, head buried in the fridge, rummaging through its contents.
“Yeah,” I scoffed. “Me too.”
Aspen didn’t react, just kept digging through shelves like she’d find treasure between the ketchup and leftover takeout.
“Want something to drink? Water? Beer?” she asked, finally glancing over her shoulder.
“Beer, please.”
She spun around, the hem of her dress catching the momentum, as she reached for a bottle opener. With practiced ease, she popped the cap off a cold one and stepped toward me, her fingers wrapped around the sweating glass.
“Should we sit?” She shot a glance at the dining table, but I shook my head.
“Well,” she huffed dramatically, lowering herself into a chair anyway, “I am. I’ve been on my feet all damn day, and they’re killing me.”
Her ponytail was slightly messy, loose strands slipping from the elastic to frame the curve of her jaw. She looked comfortable, confident—meanwhile, I felt like my ribs were in a vice grip.
I stayed where I was, jaw locked, words getting stuck somewhere in my throat. Aspen tilted her head, her sharp gaze locked onto me, studying me like I was a puzzle she wasn’t sure she wanted to solve.
Where the hell did I even start?
Did I lay it all out there? Spill every last regrettable detail? If I said it out loud, it meant other people would know what a mess I’d made, and I wasn’t sure I was ready for that level of exposure.
I needed Aspen’s help, but I didn’t need to hand her my entire disaster on a silver platter. I could leave some things out.
Halloween. That was a safe enough place to begin. I’d tread carefully.
“Penny and I have been hooking up since the Halloween party at the barn,” I said, my voice carefully even. “That night, we snuck off while you all were downstairs.”
Aspen’s lips parted—then, suddenly, she burst out laughing.
“I knew it.” Her eyes glowed with mischief, her tone smug. “You two mysteriously vanished, and no one could find you. Oh my God.” She sat forward, gripping the armrests. “So, let me get this straight—you and Penny have been sneaking around behind everyone’s backs for seven months?”
“Well, were,” I corrected. “Past tense. That’s why I’m here.” I exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over my jaw. “Like I said, I fucked up. Penny and I haven’t really spoken in like two months. Up until last night.”
Aspen’s expression shifted, curiosity melting into confusion. She shifted in her chair, smoothing out her dress as she crossed her legs.
“Nothing ever seemed off when we were all together?” she asked, reaching for her water.
I let out a slow breath and wandered toward the kitchen, gripping my beer like it was the only thing keeping me steady. I didn’t want to sit, but I needed something solid under me.
So, I did what any self-respecting man in crisis would do—I leaned against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other to brace myself for the rest of this conversation.
“It doesn’t matter,” I said, waving a dismissive hand. I took a long pull from my beer, letting the burn of regret settle in my chest. “I need your help getting her back.”
Aspen blinked at me, unimpressed. “I feel like I’m missing a lot of information to be able to help you.”
Groaning, I set down the beer and then dragged both hands down my face, like I could scrub away the sheer stupidity of this situation. God, I needed a cigarette to cope with this shit.
I shouldn’t have come here. I should’ve sat with my own failure a little longer, figured out how to grovel on my own.
But no, here I was.
“I’m not going into detail,” I said, my tone a little too sharp, but I didn’t care. “But I hid something pretty… big from her. Penny and I had a conversation last night, and it ended with her telling me to—and I quote—‘grovel, bitch.’” I even threw in air quotes for dramatic effect.
Aspen snorted. “That definitely sounds like something she’d say.”
I nodded grimly. “So, here I am. How the hell do I grovel? What do I need to do?”
Aspen inhaled deeply, letting out a long, drawn-out sigh like she was already exhausted for me. “Okay, since you won’t tell me what you did, can you at least rate it on a scale from one to ten? How bad are we talking?”
My jaw tensed. I rolled my neck, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on me.
“9.5.”
Aspen let out a low whistle, leaning back in her chair. “Damn. Yeah, you did mess up.”
“No shit,” I grumbled, pushing off the counter. Frustration simmered under my skin as I stalked toward the dining table, yanking out a chair and dropping into it with all the grace of a guy who’d just realized he was completely screwed. I slammed my beer onto the table for extra emphasis.
Aspen, meanwhile, looked thrilled.
“Is that why she had Theo and I come with her that one day? With the glitter?” Aspen’s grin was front and fucking center. There was no hiding how amused she was.
“Yup.”
She let out a laugh, nodding in understanding.
“It’s gonna be fine,” she assured me, sitting up straighter. She reached into a woven basket on the table, pulled out a notepad and pen, and pressed the tip against the paper. “We’ll come up with a plan. I’ll help you by using what she loves, stuff that’ll actually work to win her back.”
I’d expected Aspen to talk me through this, maybe drop some half-baked advice and send me on my way. What I hadn’t expected was her grabbing a goddamn notebook like this was a full-blown strategy session.
I narrowed my eyes. “Like what?”
Aspen didn’t answer right away. She was too busy biting her lip in concentration, scribbling things down like some kind of evil genius plotting world domination.
I leaned in slightly, trying to get a look at whatever the hell she was writing. When that didn’t work, I sat up straighter, my eyes bouncing between her face and the words on the page.
Whatever was coming next, I wasn’t sure if I would be relieved or terrified.
“Groveling is going to require you to take everything you’ve ever done in the past to win a girl over and throw it in the trash,” Aspen said, pausing her furious note-taking to look me dead in the eye.
I frowned. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means flowers, charming pickup lines, and pure sex appeal won’t help you here.”
I sucked in a deep breath, leaning back slightly. Well, shit. I relied on my good looks a lot.
“Because,” she continued, her expression unyielding, “she already knows how you look. She knows you’re capable of doing the small things.” Aspen hesitated. “She does know that, right?”
“Yes,” I muttered, my mind drifting back to all the little things I’d done—dinners, dancing, thoughtful gifts. Things she probably set on fire and then threw into the garbage disposal for good measure.
Aspen nodded, satisfied. “Good. Because now it’s all about action. Prepare to make yourself feel like a fool.”
I grimaced. That sounded awful, but my feelings didn’t really matter.
I’d dress up as a damn clown if Aspen thought it would work.
“I don’t even know where to start,” I admitted, my gaze dropping to the table. I picked at the beer label, giving my hands something to do.
“Well,” she said, grinning like she was actually enjoying this, “you’re in luck.”
I lifted a skeptical brow. “Yeah? How’s that?”
“Penny loves romance novels,” Aspen said, her smile widening like she was about to deliver the most obvious solution in the history of solutions. “You’ve got an entire genre of advice at your fingertips.”
Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of that?
A slow, disbelieving smile crept onto my face. “Aspen, you’re a genius.”
She did a dramatic half-bow from her chair, like she was accepting an award she definitely deserved. “Thank you, thank you.”
“I should rent some of her favorites from the library,” I said, half to myself.
“Bingo.” Aspen pointed at me. Then she tore the paper she’d been writing on and slid it across the table. “I took liberties and made a list of books to start with.”
I grabbed the note and scanned the list. A few titles, a couple of authors I’d never heard of, but I was making a mental note to hit the library first thing tomorrow.
“I say we meet once a week,” Aspen announced, reaching down into a massive tote bag and pulling out a planner. She flipped through the pages, pen poised like this was a real job.
“Weekly?” I asked, skeptically.
Aspen’s gaze snapped up to mine. “Are you serious about getting back on her good side or not?”
I was. Absolutely.
“Then once a week it is.” She didn’t even wait for my agreement. “I can come by the bar in the mornings when Ellie’s working the stand.”
“Wait,” I cut in. “Ellie’s working there again?”
Aspen groaned. “Yeah. Just until she finds something else. But this isn’t about Ellie right now. Focus.”
Rolling my eyes, I leaned back in the chair.
“How about Thursday morning?” Aspen asked after pondering over her schedule for a beat.
Considering I lived at the bar, she could show up whenever the hell she wanted. I didn’t need to check my calendar.
“Sounds good to me,” I said.
She extended a hand over the table, all business. “It’s going to be a pleasure working with you, Mac.”
Scoffing, I reached out, shaking her hand firmly. “You too, Miss Westgrove.”