Chapter 22
Mac
Yesterday was weird. Probably one of the weirder days I can recall ever having.
The morning was strange in Riley's kitchen, then the absolutely fantastic sex, both in the kitchen of my house and then the things we did in the shower, and then... everything just took a turn.
After Riley left the bathroom, I took a few minutes to dry off and get dressed, and by the time I made it back downstairs, she had her headphones in again and was working on removing the doors to the cabinets as if nothing had happened.
She didn't dance and sing like she'd done before, and I didn't question why the sudden change in her behavior. A therapist would probably label that as avoidant behavior, but I know better than to bother a woman when she's in a mood, despite it not sitting well with me.
She didn't say a word to me the rest of the day. She didn't engage on the drive back to her house, and the silence went on for so long that I felt that talking would make it even more awkward. She didn't wait for me to open her door, which made my jaw hurt from grinding my back molars together so tightly, but I stayed quiet.
She didn't slam the front door to her house in my face after unlocking it and stepping inside, but I knew better than not to consider that even a partial win. She disappeared down the hallway and never came back out of her bedroom.
She wasn't in the kitchen this morning, and I stood at her bedroom door, ready to lift my hand and knock so I could ask her if she wanted me to leave, but I didn't in fear that she'd say yes. I don't want to be gone. I don't want to walk away and never look back. There's a part of me that knows she's going to be someone important in my life, and I'm not thrilled at the prospect of her cutting me out before I can even determine what role we'll play in each other's lives.
But then again, maybe I'm just insane. Maybe the great sex with her is nothing more than smoke and mirrors, a way of my body trying to convince me that she's the one for me.
My day continues to get worse when I drive down Main Street with thoughts of cupcakes from the bakery racing through my mind, only to see several work trucks outside of the Old McGee Theater. I stop in the middle of the road and watch as several crews of men pile out of the vehicles with an Austin-based logo emblazoned on the sides.
Mr. McGee doesn't even respect me enough to tell me personally that he chose the other company, but I guess I can't blame the man. It's not like I'm in any position to take on such a large job when my own house is still in shambles.
Knowing that still doesn't take the sting out of seeing people from out of town getting ready to work on the place. They didn't spend summer afternoons there trying to beat the Texas heat with a matinee, a bucket of stale popcorn, and a cold soda with their dad. They'll never treat that place with the respect it deserves, and although I should probably feel like it'll serve Mr. McGee right that they won't pay attention to the same level of detail that my company would, it only makes me sad.
I fully understand the bottom dollar. I know times are tough and will only get more challenging in this economy, but I also know that you get what you pay for. I very easily could've lowered my cost of the renovation to get the job, but I value my time, and anyone who respects me should value it as well.
My father worked himself into an early grave, giving everything he had to everyone in this community. It's up to me to break the chains of that same legacy by demanding the respect my skill level deserves, even at the cost of lazy construction from the city if that's the way folks want to go.
A horn behind me makes me pull my foot off the brake and slide it toward the gas, but it also draws the attention of several men in the crew, and I don't miss the smirks on their faces as I drive by while they read my business logo on the side of my own truck.
By the time I pull up in front of the bakery, I'm wondering if going to the bar wouldn't be better, but the damn place isn't open this early.
I pull in a deep breath as I shove open the door to my truck and exhale it when my feet hit the asphalt. I'm not one to let the shit that's bothering me fester, but at the same time, I don't know how to approach the shit that's going on with Riley. It's clear she has some self-esteem issues, and as much as that shouldn't be my problem, I can't help but think I should do my best to make her see just how lovely she is.
"You just going to stand there, or are you coming in?"
I look up, the voice breaking me from my thoughts, smiling when I see Cash Tucker, Lindell's police chief, standing in the open doorway of the bakery.
"Lost in my thoughts," I mutter as I approach, holding my hand out for him to shake.
His eyes immediately cast down the street toward the work crews in front of the old theater before they meet mine.
"He's a fool for not hiring you," Cash mutters as he releases my hand. "But Adalynn's cupcakes will make it all better. Have a good day, Mac."
"You, too," I say before stepping inside.
The scent of sugar, butter, and something a little spicy but nonetheless delicious hits me in the face, and a genuine smile tugs up the corners of my mouth.
"You look like a man on a mission," Adalynn says with a wide smile of her own from behind the bakery counter.
"Was hoping you had enough to feed a hungry crew," I say as I step up to the counter and drop my eyes to the display, my mouth watering at the selection.
"I can make that happen," Adalynn assures me. "Want me to put together a mix?"
"That'd be great," I say, knowing the cupcakes are going to be amazing but also very aware that they won't even come close to the breakfast bake that Riley made and shared with me not long ago.
Those thoughts make me think of dinner and have me wondering if the deal we made about her cooking and me paying for the groceries will still be a thing after the weird ass day we had yesterday. That makes me feel like an expectant asshole, which in turn frustrates the hell out of me because I can't recall any other time in my life when I let a woman take over so much space in my head.
"Mac?"
"Huh?" I say, bringing my eyes up to Adalyn. I can tell by the frown creasing her forehead that I didn't hear her call my name at least the first time.
"Everything okay?"
Of course," I say, feeling like a jerk for sort of lying to her. "Can you make sure to throw in one of those banana pudding cupcakes?"
"Sure thing," she says, the smile she gives me before going back to the display case to finish the order not reaching her eyes .
Cash assumed the crew down the street was the reason for my awkwardness this morning, and he's partially right, but I can tell when Adalynn closes the cupcake box that she sees a deeper reason behind the shadows in my eyes this morning, but I don't give it a voice. Instead, I give her a wide smile and pay for my items.
It wouldn't surprise me if she isn't already well aware that there's something going on between Riley and me. That damn nosey neighbor across the street posted yesterday, asking if Riley was getting work done on her home because the Hammertime Construction truck has been parked at her house for days. The community knows what she's actually asking and I hate the sneaky way people get into everyone's business around here. Mrs. Easter asked the question but also turned off comments, making it very suspicious.
But, as much as I hate the way this town is and some of the people, I grew up never wanting to leave. I couldn't imagine trying to join the rat race in the city where I don't know anyone and the status quo is to step on others to be successful.
The guys are already hard at work on our latest project, building a gazebo for a newer resident in town. They came from the city but have made a point to only hire locally and spend their money in town, and those are the kind of folks we like to see settling into town, people who want to slow down and become part of the community rather than those who want to change it.
"Is there a problem?" I ask as I approach the crew, who are all standing in a semi-circle.
Ethan, my crew lead, looks over his shoulder, and I recognize the look in his eyes as frustration. He steps to the side to reveal a young woman, and although I've never seen her, the snarl on her face and the way she has her hands on her hips tells me she isn't a happy camper either.
"Hi," I say as I pass off the box of cupcakes to Donnie, who then loses all interest in what's going on in favor of getting first pick. "I'm Mac Hammer."
I hold my hand out to her, feeling a little pissed when she stares down at the thing for the briefest of moments before shaking it.
"Is there a problem?"
"It's eight in the morning," she says. "Why are they here so early?"
"It's time for work," I explain. "May I ask who you are?"
"I live here," she says, pointing over her shoulder at the house.
"It's my understanding that Mr. and Mrs. Drocer live here. They scheduled this job while they were on vacation, so it would be easier for us to get it done without getting in the way."
"I'm Callie Drocer," she explains. "Their daughter."
I tilt my head, confusion beginning to tug in my mind.
"I was assured the home would be empty," I explain.
"I'm... This is my parents' home, and I live here now." She rushes the words out as if she really doesn't want to explain herself.
I'm in no position to get into anyone's business because I don't want them in mine.
"We've been contracted to build this gazebo by your parents’ house," I explain. "We'll be here the rest of the week. Our workday starts at eight in the morning."
She sighs, her hand once again going to her hip, making her look even more out of place.
It's clear that she either had a late night or she just didn't bother with taking off her makeup because it's smudged under her eyes.
"Fine," she snaps before turning to walk back toward the back porch of the home.
I look over at Ethan, but my eyes land on Ronnie, whose eyes are locked on her ass as she walks away.
"No," I snap at him, but the man can't even wipe the smile off his face when his eyes meet mine. "We don't date customers."
"Her parents are the customer," he clarifies, his grin growing wider.
"For fuck's sake," I mutter before walking back to my truck to get my hard hat.