Chapter 32 Mac
32
MAC
Arush of déjà vu swept over me so suddenly it made me pause. I’d been in this exact moment before—or something close to it a few months ago. Same nerves, same anticipation. Same girl.
I dampened my fingertips under the faucet and ran my hands through my hair, smoothing down the loose strands to curl behind my ears.
After a quick spin in front of the mirror, I nodded once to myself, turned off the bathroom light, and stepped into the living room.
Flowers—check. Phone, wallet, keys—check.
For the second time in just over a week, I’d managed to get a shift covered at the bar. That was saying something.
Before all this, I never took time off. I was the guy to cover, not the one who needed covering. When Dudley, Jolie—hell, sometimes both at once—called, I was always there.
That had been part of my problem. I didn’t know how to give myself a life outside of that building. If I spent time with friends, it was within those four walls, sneaking in laughter between drink orders and last calls. I’d never been good at carving out space for joy, not intentionally. That was a foreign language I never learned to speak.
“You be a good boy,” I said, pointing at Angus, who offered a long-suffering sigh before flopping onto his side like the dramatic prince he was.
“Don’t give me that attitude,” I muttered, grinning. That dog had more sass than most people I knew.
Pulling on my boots, I jogged down the stairs and through the bar—flowers in one hand, cigarette in the other. Outside, I paused at the edge of the sidewalk, slipping the bouquet between my knees as I lit the end of the cigarette. The paper crackled, and I drew in a slow breath, holding the smoke in my lungs for a beat before letting it go.
The weather was warm, the last golden rays of the day slipping behind the mountain ridge. The town was quiet in that almost-sacred, in-between hour when the day is ending but night hasn’t quite begun.
I walked in peace, savoring the feel of this—the moment before something good.
Going over to have dinner at her place was Penny’s idea. Through nonstop texting, late-night FaceTime calls, over the last few days, I’d earned my spot at her dinner table—in her sanctuary—this time invited.
People passed me on the sidewalk, their eyes flicking briefly to the bouquet in my hand before moving on. No one stopped, no one asked.
Not that I wanted them to. I’d watched people devour every detail of Boone’s life, pick apart Ellie’s departure like it was a movie they were all entitled to direct. I didn’t crave that. I liked being a quiet mystery.
I smiled, taking another slow drag before letting the smoke drift out and up.
When I reached Penny’s place, I stomped out my cigarette and tucked the butt into the container near the stairs before pulling open the door.
As I jogged up the steps, a rush of happiness surged through me at the thought of seeing her again, so much so that I skipped the formality of knocking. She had a bad habit of leaving her door unlocked, something I knew probably would never change. I twisted the knob and stepped inside, instantly greeted by the sound of music floating from a speaker and the sight of Penny in the kitchen, barefoot, dancing slightly as she stirred something on the stove.
Her eyes caught mine the second I walked in.
Her smile hit me—wide, warm, and blooming so big it nearly knocked the air out of my lungs.
“Welcome to House de Penny,” she announced with mock grandeur. “The finest restaurant in all of Faircloud.”
I grinned and started pulling off my boots near the door. “What’s on the menu tonight, Chef?”
“Pasta!” she squealed. “Rhodes’s recipe. He was sweet enough to send it over when I asked, even though it’s apparently sacred Dunn family stuff.”
“Well,” I said, stepping into the kitchen and offering her the flowers I brought, “what can I do to earn my stay?”
Penny’s smile softened as she took the bouquet from me. She lifted it to her nose and inhaled, closing her eyes as if she were letting the scent sink in.
“They’re beautiful,” she muttered quietly. Then her expression shifted—mischievous and playful.
Tapping a finger against my chest, Penny replied, “I left the breadstick for you this time. Your turn to suffer.”
I chuckled as she moved past me, pulling the limp, sad-looking bouquet from the pitcher on the table and replacing it with the one I brought.
“Watch and learn, Hudson,” I teased, rolling up my shirt sleeves with a dramatic flair. I was already halfway to the freezer by the time she jumped up to sit on the kitchen counter, wine glass in hand.
I worked on laying out the frozen breadsticks on a tray while the pasta sauce simmered behind me, the scent filling the kitchen in warm, spicy waves.
“You’re staring, Pen,” I said, not turning but fully aware of her eyes on me.
“I know,” she replied shamelessly, her voice low and sultry. “I wasn’t trying to hide it. I like the way your muscles flex when you move.”
I smirked, placing the last breadstick on the tray before turning to look at her with a raised brow. “So it’s just my biceps you’re after, huh?”
“Well,” she said, swirling her wine and giving me a look that made my skin flush, “and the tattoos are a strong selling point.”
“Noted,” I replied, sliding the tray into the oven and setting the timer.
Penny set her wine glass down with a soft clink and hopped down from the counter, her eyes shining beneath the low light of the kitchen. The soft hum of music drifted from the speaker near the window, something acoustic and slow. Her hand lifted slightly, palm open in invitation.
“Dance with me?” she asked, her voice confident and strong.
Abso-fucking-lutely. I always looked for a reason to have her close to me.
I reached for her hand and let her pull me toward the middle of the living room. There wasn’t much space between the couch and the coffee table, but that didn’t matter when she fit against me so perfectly.
I wrapped my arms around her waist, and she curled hers around my neck, drawing me close like it was instinct. The moment we started to sway, it hit me—muscle memory and emotion colliding in my chest.
“You remember the first time we did this?” I asked, my voice low, lips brushing the shell of her ear.
Penny’s head tilted against my shoulder. “Of course I do. You told me this was the extent of your dancing abilities, but then proved that wrong when you danced for Theo, even though I somehow missed it.”
God, I didn’t want to relive that moment again. A couple of months ago, Rhodes asked us all to cheer up Theo and unfortunately, it involved all of us dancing like idiots to “My Humps.” Penny and Aspen were supposed to be there, but luckily, they were running late. Per usual for Penny.
“I’m so glad you did,” I murmured, smiling against her hair. “That was a level of embarrassment I never plan to reach again.”
Penny chuckled against my chest, sending a vibration surging through me.
“Remember the other time when you tried to dip me halfway through the second song and nearly dropped me on the floor.”
Somehow, dancing in the comfort of this space had become our thing. There were many nights spent practicing our amateur moves to the music coming from this same worn speaker.
“I did drop you.”
“You did,” she agreed, pulling back just enough to look at me, her lips curved in a soft grin. “Then we ended up staying on the floor and didn’t get up until morning.”
Her smile faltered, just slightly. Not because the moment had slipped away, but because it had shifted into something deeper, weightier. Her hand came to my cheek, her fingers soft and slow as they traced the line of my jaw, like she was memorizing me all over again, piece by piece.
“Can I admit something?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
My heartbeat kicked up, thudding hard in my chest. I didn’t answer right away—just met her gaze, where something unguarded shimmered just beneath the surface.
I gave her a small nod, holding the space open for her.
“I think I was falling in love with you then,” she said, breath catching on the confession. “I felt… consumed by you. In the best, most terrifying way. But I was scared to admit it because I didn’t think you wanted that kind of commitment.” Her voice wavered, just enough to crack something in me. “I didn’t know what was real, what to believe.”
I felt the tension ripple through her body, her hands tightening slightly against me. I pressed my palms gently into her hips, grounding her, silently telling her I was here and that she didn’t have to hold herself so tightly.
“I wasn’t pretending,” I said quietly, my voice low and steady. “Not for a second. And I know I broke something along the way, but I want to fix it. I want to earn that trust back… earn you back.”
I knew I loved her, but I couldn’t say it in this moment. The words wouldn’t mean enough, not without action behind them. After everything I’d done, my promises needed to be lived, not spoken.
The silence settled between us again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—rich with reflection and possibility, like the past and future were both pressing in on this one moment. We swayed gently, locked in that fragile stillness.
Then she exhaled—a long, slow breath against my chest—and her arms curled tighter around me.
“Can I admit something else?” she asked.
“I’m all ears, Pen.”
“You still make me feel safe,” she said, the words trembling. “There’s something about being near you that feels… calm. Like I can breathe again.”
My throat tightened. “Then let me keep doing that. Let this be our second chance. No games, no walls. Just us.”
A soft buzz came from the kitchen—the timer, probably—but neither of us moved. Her head stayed right where it was, resting on my chest, her breath warm through the fabric of my shirt.
She was thinking, weighing everything in real time. And that alone—her consideration—was more than I deserved. It meant the door hadn’t fully closed.
Penny looked up at me with a soft smirk as the timer continued to blare. “If you burn the breadsticks after all that, you’re never getting invited over again.”
I laughed, brushing my lips to her forehead before letting her go. “You burn one batch of breadsticks and suddenly I’m the problem? Bold statement, Trouble.”
I grinned as I turned toward the oven.
“Bold is one of my best traits, didn’t you know?” she asked.
Penny leaned on the counter, sipping her wine as I pulled the tray from the oven and gave the breadsticks a proud once-over. “Perfect golden brown,” I declared. “Feel free to start drafting my redemption arc.”
“Redemption arc?” she scoffed. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
With everything plated and the sauce steaming, we carried our dishes to the small table tucked beside her window. Penny lit a candle for ambiance, she claimed, but I saw the way her eyes flicked toward me when the soft light hit my face.
“This smells amazing,” I said, twirling my fork through the pasta. “You sure you didn’t just charm Rhodes into doing all the hard work?”
“I’ll have you know I diced those tomatoes myself,” she said proudly, then narrowed her eyes. “And when I say ‘diced,’ I mean chopped at them until they vaguely resembled pieces.”
“Sounds like a culinary masterpiece.”
She shrugged. “You’re easy to impress.”
I leaned across the table slightly and whispered, “Only when it comes to you.”
Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. Her eyes flicked to mine, caught off guard as a smile curved on her lips.
I took a bite of the pasta, nodding in exaggerated approval. “Okay… yeah. That’s dangerously good.”
“I’m texting Rhodes later to tell him you cried into your plate at how amazing it was.”
“Oh, I will cry,” I said with mock seriousness. “But only because I realize I wasted years not letting you cook for me more often.”
“Years, huh?” she teased, swirling her own fork. “So dramatic.”
“What can I say? You bring it out of me.”
She laughed, that soft, melodic laugh I hadn’t realized I missed so much. We kept eating, exchanging stories and banter between bites, each moment folding over the next like soft layers in something new, something warm.
By the time we were finished, her cheeks were pink from the wine and the candlelight, and I was thoroughly full and completely charmed by her.
“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing me. “Did dinner win me any points?”
I tilted my head. “Depends. Am I staying for dessert?”
Penny raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth lifting. “What kind of dessert are we talking about?”
I stood slowly, rounding the table to her side. “Wait, shouldn’t I be the one trying to win the points?”
She tilted her face up toward mine, eyes dancing. “Smart man.”
“Let me start with the dishes, and then we can see if I earn something a little sweeter,” I whispered.
“You just might,” she murmured.
We moved into the kitchen together, side by side. Everything tonight felt heightened—sharper, warmer, charged. I filled the sink, silent except for the music in the background as the water ran.
Penny handed me the first plate, and our fingers touched—intentionally, neither of us pulling away.
“I have a favor to ask you,” Penny said, mischief lighting her eyes. “And saying yes will definitely earn you some of those points. Could even get you out of the doghouse faster.”
“Oh?” I glanced at her, amused, as I scrubbed a plate clean. “Do tell.”
“Last year, I worked with the Cassidys for the library fundraiser,” she explained, stepping closer, her hip brushing mine. “This year, the board is already on my case about what I’m planning. So, I was thinking…”
I grabbed the next plate from her hands but kept my eyes locked on hers. I knew that tone. She was buttering me up.
“You want to use the bar for some kind of fundraiser, don’t you?” I asked with a grin.
She winked, her smile teasing. “Exactly.”
I playfully rolled my eyes, placing the plate in the drying rack. Penny could ask me to shut down the bar for a week and I wouldn’t bat an eye. Whatever she needed, I’d make it happen. Hell, I’d rebuild the damn place if she asked.
“Sure,” I said casually, returning to the sink. “What are you thinking?”
She sighed dramatically and leaned against the counter, her head dropping between her shoulders. “I don’t know yet. I haven’t really mapped it out. But whatever we do, it needs to happen soon.”
“Well, whatever it is, the bar’s yours,” I told her.
Penny tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Hear me out, we could get the guys involved. And maybe…” She lifted her hands in the air as if defending herself. “A mechanical bull?”
I barked out a laugh, tilting my head back. “You want a mechanical bull inside The Tequila Cowboy?”
She nodded eagerly. “Please?” She moved closer, gripping my biceps with her hands. She gave me that damn pouty face, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Pretty please?”
It wasn’t that I was against it—it was just… the bar wasn’t exactly that kind of place. We had cover bands and the very occasional line-dancing lesson. But a full-on theatrical bull ride? That was another level.
Still… she was looking at me like that, and it melted me into a puddle, completely at her mercy.
“Fine.”
“Yes!” Penny squealed, lifting up on her toes and pressing a quick, triumphant kiss to my lips. “You’re the best. Now I really have to get planning.”