19. MJ #3
Looking at Mac, he shrugs. “I might have mentioned you were looking into schools. It was their idea, honest.”
I look back to Blake and Austin, who are smiling at me. “Wait, what’s your idea?” I ask them.
“We were going to ask if you wanted to help us with some design work for the restaurant. Menus, logos, that kind of stuff. And maybe, if you’d be up for it, help us manage our social media?
I know you’re leaving for law school in August, but we could always take pictures and send them to you to post or something.
” I shake my head as Blake suggests too many things at once.
“Or, you don’t have to.” He backtracks. “We can do it ourselves or find someone else. We can’t afford to pay anyone just yet, but eventually we would.
” He’s talking fast, but I’m still not following entirely.
Me, social media managing? Designing for the restaurant?
“Girl, this is perfect for you.” Shannon nudges my hip with hers and raises her eyebrows.
Is it? What if I hate it, or I’m not actually good at it? What if they don’t like my ideas? Or what if—
My thoughts get interrupted by Mac’s breath on my neck.
“Hey,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to my neck. “Stop swirling. You can do this.”
I take a deep breath.
“Can I think about it?” I ask the boys. “I’m still figuring out what I’m doing come August. Can I just let you know later?”
“Of course. Take all the time you need. And if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay too. Really. No pressure, MJ.” Austin’s smile is soft and caring.
It seems I have a lot to think about. But this would be one more item in the pro column for staying in town and deferring for a year. I’d be gaining experience in the field I want to be in. Mom and Dad would have to agree that would be a good thing, right?
July 8
Monday comes quickly, and we have our final meeting with Mac before his trial next week. We did a mock interview where Dad played the prosecutor, and I pretended to defend Mac. The goal was to prepare him for going up on the stand, giving his side of the story, and I think it helped.
I walk Mac out, knowing he needs to get back to the shop.
He’s been taking on as many jobs as possible to make some extra money for his family before the trial could turn his whole life upside down.
I blow out a breath, trying to dispel the thought before it takes root in my mind.
No need to worry about something we can’t control.
Dad is already doing everything he can to make sure Mac doesn’t go to prison, and that’s all we can really do right now.
Closing the large front door behind me, I follow Mac down the steps and to his car. He turns around and leans against the hood, so I walk right into him, pressing my body to his. He looks over my shoulder and then back at me and leans in, kissing me sweetly.
I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head on his chest, breathing in his bergamot and pine scent.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Mac says, startling me.
I lean away from him as he swings his backpack around between us.
“I have something for you.” He unzips his bag and pulls out a book.
It’s a thin paperback and has sticky notes hanging out the sides.
It’s a book I’m unfamiliar with, so I don’t think the sticky notes are from me annotating it.
“Is that . . . Did you use tabs to annotate?” I ask, surprise filling my voice.
“Kind of? I didn’t have the fancy ones you use, but I wanted to make sure you saw these specific pages. Make sure you read it before tomorrow,” he instructs.
“Okay?” Confused, I take the book from him and tuck it under my arm. He replaces his backpack over his shoulder, and I lean into him again. He peppers kisses on the top of my head and then groans. I step back from him, letting him head toward the car door.
“I gotta get going, baby. But text me—and read the book.” He points to the book under my arm, and I nod.
“Hey, wait.” I step toward him, catching him before he ducks into the car. His hair falls into his eyes when he turns his head to look at me. “I love you,” I murmur.
A grin takes over his face. Mac comes back around the car door and grabs my waist, pressing his body to mine.
“I love you too, beautiful.” He kisses my lips quickly and then releases me, hustling into his car.
The engine comes to life, much like the butterflies in my stomach.
I watch him drive away with a smile on my face.
Unable to wait, I head right upstairs to my room and open the book he gave me.
It’s a cute little novella and the first sticky note leads me to a page where he’s circled the word “Wednesday.” On the next sticky note, he’s underlined below the word “eight,” and later, on the same page, he’s circled the word “evening.” Confused, I flip to the last sticky note where he’s underlined the word “garage.”
Wednesday, eight, evening, garage.
I pull out my phone and thumb the words out to Mac with a question mark. He replies almost instantly.
Mac: Yep, see you then ??
Smiling, I look at his text, then back to the words he marked for me. Wednesday evening, eight o’clock, in the garage. I laugh at how cryptic the message was but also can’t help my heart exploding with the cuteness either. Looks like he’s planned a little date for us.
July 10
Wednesday finally rolls around after a quiet Monday and a productive Tuesday.
Nerves and excitement overwhelm me as I roll up to the garage for my date with Mac.
I don’t know what exactly he has planned, but I’m excited to spend some one-on-one time with him.
He’s been so busy at the shop lately we’ve barely had time to text, let alone hang out.
I’m a few minutes early, so I park in the gravel driveway and grab my phone, sending him a text to let him know I’m here. Expecting a text back, I’m surprised when I see him running out of the shop toward me. I grab my bag and then slide out of my Jeep.
“Hey,” he breathes once he’s in front of me.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping toward him and wrapping my arms around his waist. He kisses my forehead before one arm settles around my shoulders as he turns me toward the shop entrance.
“Come on. We’re staying in tonight. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course!” I reply as he guides me into the shop.
I hover near the door as he locks it behind us, then he takes my hand, and I let him lead me upstairs to the loft. The sun is just setting, and the shop below looks almost eerie with the lights out.
When Mac pushes the door to the loft open, I gasp. Candles are everywhere: on the nightstand, the dresser, the floor. Little tea lights, big bulky three-wick candles, tapers. The whole candle department is in this room.
A smile takes over my face as I step deeper into the loft, noting the pizza and books piled on the bed. The TV mounted on the wall is on, playing the trailer for one of my favorite rom-coms, another Reese Witherspoon classic, Sweet Home Alabama .
“It’s not much, but I thought it’d be nice to just have some time together, alone,” he says, but I’m already nodding and turning to him.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kiss him softly. “It’s perfect.”
He leads me to the bed, handing me a napkin and plate with a slice of pizza on it. He also slides a bottle of Dr. Pepper toward me, and I smile. This guy still knows me and all of my favorites—I think I fell just a little bit more in love with him.