Chapter 28 Penny
28
PENNY
Islammed my laptop shut and tossed it into my oversized tote, eager to get a move on. Tonight, I was stopping by the bar after work, and I didn’t want to waste a second.
Mac showing up yesterday, completely unprompted, to help at Petal Pusher had lit a burning flame inside me. I couldn’t stop thinking about it or about him.
He hadn’t just shown up—he performed. Every delivery was spot on, dropped off with care and perfectly on time. When he and Logan returned to the shop, Mac didn’t check out or disappear.
Instead, he rolled up his sleeves and stayed until close.
He swept floors, helped customers choose arrangements, smiled at strangers, and charmed even the grumpiest regulars.
I hadn’t even asked him to help. I’d called Logan and Ellie. Not Mac.
And yet, he stayed later than anyone else.
When the store started to look like itself again, Mac convinced Sandy to head home before dark, remembering her rule without needing to be reminded. When everyone was gone, he still stayed with me.
We closed up shop together, moving through the motions in comfortable silence and playful teasing. He was patient, gentle, respectful. The kind of man who made sure everything was done right—not for praise, but because it mattered to me.
The night was spent laughing, talking, wrapped up in that familiar thread of banter that had always been ours.
Finally, when the lights were off and the doors locked, he still stayed until I was safely inside my apartment.
It was getting harder to hold onto my no-shits-given attitude—harder still to keep Mac guessing. Because the truth was, it was working. Every gesture, every look, every shift was pulling me in all over again, and I wasn’t sure what that said about me.
Maybe I was weak.
Maybe I was pathetic for letting the gravity of him affect me so soon.
But the part that got me the most? It didn’t feel forced. His attempts, his charm, his presence weren’t manufactured or manipulative. It was like we’d fallen back into a rhythm that had always been there, waiting. Effortless. Familiar. And soaked in that spark we used to call us.
The teasing banter. The way we orbited around each other like planets tugged by an invisible thread. It all felt natural again. Dangerous, but natural.
Yet, six months wasn’t nearly enough time to fully get to know someone like Mac Ridley. We’d only scratched the surface of each other. Deep inside, there was this part of me—dormant, now awakened—that wanted to know more. Craved it.
That’s how I knew my defenses were crumbling.
It wasn’t just about attraction anymore, though that still burned hot and wild between us. No, I wanted more. I wanted the pieces of Mac he didn’t give easily. The layers he kept tucked behind those sharp eyes and that crooked smile.
My tote bag bounced lightly against my hip as I adjusted the strap on my shoulder and kept moving forward, heart thudding in my chest with each step.
I wore a thin-strapped sundress, one that brushed just below my knees with soft, flowing fabric that caught the breeze. My hair was curled in loose beachy waves down my back, my sandals clicking softly against the concrete.
But this wasn’t just a dress.
This dress had history.
A smile played at the corners of my mouth as my hand ran absently down the front of the fabric. This was my statement. My answer to all the teasing, the tension, the way he’d been testing my limits.
I wanted him to see this dress and remember. Remember the way I’d worn it for him—here, in his bar. More specifically, the day in his back office, ruining me with nothing but his hands, his mouth, and his...
The smile deepened into something darker, something electric, and I bit my lip as the memory took hold.
My body flushed with heat, my thoughts unraveling into want. My skin buzzed with the idea of him and all the ways he used to touch me, worship me.
God, I missed it.
The way Mac had always made me feel like the only woman in the world, like my body was a gift he never got tired of unwrapping.
And right now?
I wanted to feel that again. I wanted him.
Country music spilled into my ears the second I stepped through the door, wrapping around me like a familiar hug. Locals perched at the bar, low voices rumbling in conversation, and a few couples swayed lazily on the dance floor. Midweek meant things were slow.
My gaze swept to the right, then the left, and landed on him.
Mac was behind the bar, and as if he’d felt me before he saw me, his head snapped up the moment I stepped in. His lips curved into a slow smile, and he gave me a small nod, one that said come here…like I wouldn’t. Like I hadn’t already been halfway across the room after catching a glimpse of him.
I made my way over, my shoes clicking softly on the hardwood floor. When I reached the bar, I leaned slightly over the surface. Mac mirrored me, pushing up on his hands and leaning forward. His forearms flexed under his weight, veins prominent beneath the swirling black ink of his tattoos.
God help me.
“Go ahead and bring your stuff to the office,” he said, voice low and casual. “It’ll be safe in there. No need to carry it around all night.”
“Carry it?” I arched a brow. “I planned on plopping myself on a stool and letting you feed me drinks until close.”
Mac’s smile deepened, the dusting of hair above his lip curling with it. “Still, put it back there anyway. I’d hate for anything to happen to it.”
I rolled my eyes playfully. “Sure thing, Dad.”
He smirked. “I liked it better when you called me Daddy.”
“I bet you did,” I shot back, walking away before he could see the heat that climbed up my neck, swaying my hips a little extra for emphasis.
The hallway was dim, quiet. The moment I stepped into the back office, memories came rushing at me like a flood.
I placed my bag gently on the floor and stepped toward the desk, letting my fingers trail across the smooth, dark wood. I could still feel Mac’s hands on me—still hear the rasp of his voice, still taste the urgency in the air. So many afternoons we’d stolen in here. So many secrets whispered into skin.
“Hey, Penny,” a voice said behind me.
I turned quickly and found Dudley leaning in the doorway. He smiled, the silver ring in his lip catching the light.
“Hi, Dudley.” I folded my arms and took a few steps closer.
“Nice to see you back around.”
I smiled softly. “It’s nice to be back.” And for once, I meant it.
Dudley nodded and disappeared down the hallway, and I followed not long after, heart thudding a little harder than I wanted to admit.
Mac was on me in seconds, a cigarette tucked between his lips and a mischievous glint in his eye. He was holding something behind his back.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to him with narrowed eyes.
He pulled out a laminated menu, the edges catching the neon glow above the bar. With exaggerated ceremony, he slid it across the counter to me.
My gaze dropped.
Love on the Rocks, the header read.
And then my eyes kept moving:
Penny’s Potion
Vanilla and Spice
Comeback Kiss
The Apology Shot
Blushing Rose
Let’s Not Be Over
My heart stuttered.
Color bloomed high on my cheeks, hot and all-consuming. I blinked up at him. Mac’s gaze was steady, like he was trying to read me.
Good luck, because at that moment, my brain had gone blank.
“Does everyone get this?” I asked, lifting the menu.
He nodded. “They’re tonight’s specials.”
This man had made a menu—an actual, laminated, public menu—with my name on it?
A menu with cocktail names that read like a romance novel?
My heart squeezed tight in my chest, and a slow smile crept across my lips. I shook my head in disbelief, setting the menu down gently. My fingers traced the edge absentmindedly as I pressed my lips together in thought.
This wasn’t just a cute stunt. This was Mac standing in the middle of his bar, in front of everyone, offering a quiet confession that he’d messed up.
I glanced up at him, resting my chin in my hand. “So… what’s in Penny’s Potion?”
Mac leaned in slightly, one arm braced on the bar. “Your favorites. Tequila, orange juice, and grenadine.”
I raised a brow. “So basically a tequila sunrise… with a romantic rebrand?”
He smirked, already reaching for a glass beneath the bar. “Only the best for my muse.”
That made me laugh. I tilted my head, watching him work—how his hands moved with easy confidence, flexed with practiced motion as he scooped ice and poured the tequila. There was something hypnotic about it. Or maybe it was just him.
“I guess it’s only right I try one of everything,” I said, voice light. “Starting with my potion.”
Mac nodded, not taking his eyes off the drink. “Bold move. Starting with the showstopper.”
He finished the pour and added the grenadine last, letting the syrup swirl like a sunset through the glass. Then, as always, he fished two cherries from the bars container and dropped them gently on top because he knew I liked an extra. He slid the drink across the bar toward me, a little grin tugging at his lips.
“I have to admit, coming up with the names wasn’t easy.”
“Oh yeah?” I lifted the glass, letting the cold bite against my palm. “Well, they’re pretty damn creative.”
He grinned. “Glad you think so. Dudley said The Apology Shot was a little bland.
I sipped, letting the citrus hit my tongue. Sweet. Bright. Exactly what I needed.
“Maybe,” I said, setting the glass down, “but it’s also honest. Which, let’s be real, isn’t exactly your default setting.”
“Ouch,” he said with a mock wince. “Low blow, Penelope.”
I leaned forward, a smile teasing my lips. “Truth hurts, Ridley.”
He studied me for a second, then exhaled slowly. “It does. But you know what hurts more?”
“What?”
“The thought of you walking out without giving me a chance to show I’ve changed.”
My stomach flipped. His voice had softened, just a little, but it was enough to slip through my defenses.
Still, I kept my expression playful. “That line part of your cocktail pitch too?”
He grinned, wide and boyish. “Nope. That one’s straight from the heart.” Mac tapped his chest, right where his heart was.
Hearing Mac say anything from the heart stirred something deep in my chest—an emotion I wasn’t sure I was ready to feel.
Clearing my throat, I took another sip of my drink and set the glass down gently on the bar.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered with a groan.
Mac’s brows furrowed in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“I meant to grab my book from my bag,” I said, a sheepish grin tugging at my lips. “Figured I could read a little while I, you know… subtly watched you work.”
He blinked. “You’re going to read in the middle of a bar?”
“Why not?” I replied, instantly on the defense as I leaned back and crossed my arms over my chest.
Mac raised both hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. Just asking. Is it in your bag?”
I nodded. Without another word, he stepped out from behind the bar and disappeared down the hallway toward his office. I shifted in my seat, trying to peek past Dudley’s broad shoulders to catch a glimpse of Mac.
Moments later, he returned, holding something in the air. As he got closer, I saw it was my book.
“This one?” he asked, a teasing glint in his eye.
“Yes!” I grinned and stretched my hand out toward him.
But he pulled up short, tucking the book under his arm as he leaned in across the bar. His face hovered close to mine, and instinctively, I leaned in too. The space between us shrank until only a breath separated our mouths.
His warm exhale brushed against my upper lip. My tongue darted out to wet my bottom lip, and his eyes tracked the movement like a man starving.
“Hand it over, Mac,” I said, my voice low.
“I want something first,” he murmured, gaze dropping to my mouth.
“You’re not getting a kiss,” I warned, even as my heart pounded in my chest. God, I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to taste the heat of his mouth, the familiar hint of tobacco and adrenaline that always lingered on his lips.
“Not even on the cheek?” he asked, tilting his head just enough to make it a dare.
I narrowed my eyes at him and reached out, grabbing his chin firmly and turning his face away.
“Don’t try that stupid trick where you turn your head at the last second,” I said, narrowing my eyes playfully.
He chuckled under his breath, the sound low and amused.
Then I leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm, the faintest trace of sweat on his jawline. I lingered a heartbeat longer than necessary, inhaling him, letting myself feel it.
“Perfect,” he murmured, turning his head back to me. Our eyes locked, and the air between us went still. My stomach somersaulted as I stared into that familiar gaze—intense, hungry, soft around the edges, only for me.
I was dangerously close to grabbing the collar of his shirt and kissing him until the world disappeared.
But I didn’t.
I pulled back, lips curving into a smile that didn’t quite mask the desire crackling beneath the surface. “Good,” I said, settling back onto my stool. “Because that’s all you’re gonna get.”