Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
ALL MY FAULT
“Never?” He’s never going to stop doing nice things for me?
I’m so confused. I know I’m the one who ended things, but it was his fault.
If he didn’t stick his foot in his mouth all the time, we would have been fine.
Sighing, I admit to myself that statement isn’t completely true.
The whole thing moved too fast—I felt like I was on a bullet train.
I know I’d needed a breather but not the way it happened.
Sam went silent. Complete radio silence. Ghosted.
By Friday, Chicago’s back to usual—mostly. There’s still snow on the ground, but the sun is out and the temp is warm enough to start melting the snow, aided by the good work the City of Chicago crew as they clear streets and sidewalks so people like me can get around.
I have a smile on my face as I walk into work—a smile that feels authentic for the first time in days. My boss is standing behind the front display case. “Theresa. You’re back.”
“I got in late last night. How did things go here?”
“Good. Inventory is done. And… I was actually early three days this week,” I say, grinning.
“I heard. Good job. And you’re right on time today, too.”
“Yep.” I smile again. “So, what do you want me to work on today?”
“The usual stuff, but I’ve got a list of artists I need you to call today, too. We need some new pieces. Valentine’s Day sales depleted our stock.”
We were crazy-busy last Tuesday, before Valentine’s Day.
Christmas is a very busy season, but February 14 is the most hectic.
I suppose it’s the romantic emphasis on Valentine’s Day—men (and women) automatically think of jewelry as the go-to gift, thank goodness.
I start right in making the calls to our artists.
The reactions to my calls are mixed. Some artists are happy to send new things.
Others are downright rude, informing me they’ll provide pieces on their own schedule, not the store’s schedule.
I don’t understand this reaction. If someone called and wanted me to send pieces to sell, I’d work night and day to get them done.
Some people are too entitled for their own good.
At a quarter to twelve, I’m leaning over the counter, making notes about the phone calls, when a shadow crosses over my notebook.
I look up, ready to greet the customer. My voice catches in my throat.
“Sam?” Holy hotness, Batman. He looks amazingly hunky in a dark-gray suit that looks tailored just for him.
What do they call that in Regency romances?
Bespoke? His suit is bespoke. Yeah, that’s it.
It fits his broad shoulders and muscle-bound arms like a glove.
He’s paired it with a cerulean-blue tie.
My eyes pan upward to his face. When our eyes meet, I see a combination of worry and lust. Yeah, that’s what I said.
Lust. The expression in them says, I want you.
I want him, too. My eyes move to his hair.
God, I love his hair. It’s cut close on the sides but it’s longer on top.
Not so long that it flops over his eyes, but it is long enough for him to run his fingers through it.
I think that’s why it always looks a little messy.
He’s running his fingers through his hair right now—like he’s nervous.
Oh, and I can smell him, too. His signature scent is woodsy and musky—manly.
The guy is perfection. I still can’t believe he wants me. He’s actually trying to win me back.
“Hello, MacKenzie.”
That voice. God, that voice. Has it only been a week since I last saw him?
Since I last heard that deep, rumbly voice?
It feels like longer. Crap on a cracker, my panties just got wet.
I’ve missed him. I’ve missed the sex. You would think, after not having sex for years, I could easily go right back to my BS, my before-Sam-way-of-being (i.e.
celibate); however, that’s not the case.
Having sex with this man—the hottest sex I’ve ever had, by the way—is hard to get over.
I clear my throat a little; attempting to regain my composure. “What can I do for you, Sam?”
He smiles and sends my libido into overdrive. Again. “I stopped by to see how you were doing.”
“So, you were just in the neighborhood?” I snort out a stupid laugh and wish I could be someone else right now. Someone cool, confident, and self-assured. But, I’m not. I’m MacKenzie, dorkus extraordinarus.
“No. I came to see you, sweetheart.”
Oh, shit. He broke out the “sweetheart.” I feel it all the way down to my core when he says that.
“You did?” Yes, I am truly a dork.
“I did. I have something for you.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He chuckles softly and reaches beneath his coat. He pulls out a small paper sack, setting it on the glass case between us.
“Is this more Mama Mabel’s?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sam grins slyly.
I start to open the bag but stop and give him a raised eyebrow. “The Mama Mabel’s bag had a note from you on it. So there’s no denying that you sent it.”
He laughs again. “Oh, right. I forgot.”
Yeah, right. I reach my hand into the bag and touch a small box.
A small box I recognize from touch alone—the size and weight.
Excitedly, I tear the bag away. My eyes fill with tears in milliseconds.
“You found them? You found Pops’s medals?
You found them?” I’m babbling like an idiot with tears running down my cheeks.
“I did.” He smiles gently. Reaching out, he brushes the tears away on my left cheek.
“Where? How? Thank you so much, Sam.” Tears are still streaming down my cheeks. I race around the counter and literally jump into his arms. “Thank you so much,” I say again. “You have no idea what these mean to me.”
“I know they mean a lot to you, MacKenzie. I searched high and low for them.”
“I can’t believe you did that,” I whisper in awe. “Why?” Sam’s still holding me up high enough that my feet are off the ground and our faces are almost touching.
“Because I screwed up. Big-time. I wanted to try to make it up to you, baby.” He says baby so softly.
Baby. That’s the other word that soaks my pantaloons.
I lean in to give him a little kiss as a thank-you, but he takes the opportunity as an invitation to catch up.
His tongue sweeps across my lower lip. I open my mouth and feel his tongue invade.
I meet him in the middle, and we both moan simultaneously.
The kiss lasts a good long time until one of us pulls away. I’m not sure which one.
His strong arms are still wrapped around my body, holding me close. “God, I’ve missed you, MacKenzie.” He breathes the words into my ear.
As he sets me down, I look up at him. “I’ve missed you too.” More than I care to admit.
“When do you go to lunch?”
I look up at the wall clock. “Now.”
“Let me take you to lunch. I’ll walk the dogs with you, too.”
“No dog walking today. They’re on vacation.”
“Just lunch then?”
“Okay. Let me get my—”
“Coat? You need to get your coat?” he says with a small smile.
I cringe, thinking about the last time we saw each other. “I do.”
“I’ll wait.”
I pick up Pops’s medals so I can put them in my purse. Grabbing my things from the back, I meet Sam at the entryway. He holds his hand out to me, and I take it. We head toward the escalators but stop when someone yells, “No, MacKenzie. I thought you hated him.”
I turn my head. “Bobby?”
He’s standing near the door of One of a Kind. He has his coat in his hand; his face is red and he looks angry. And hurt.
“Bobby?” I repeat.
“You were supposed to go to lunch with me,” he screeches.
Oh, shit. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“You forgot?” he whimpers as he moves slowly in my direction.
“Yeah, I forgot. I’m sorry—it’s been four days since you mentioned it and… yes, I forgot.”
Anger replaces the hurt in his expression. “You’re a bitch!” he spits.
I jerk back in shock. Sam says, “Hey,” as he starts to move.
I hold Sam back. “Bobby? I’m sor—”
“Save it.” He turns and races back to the toy store. I silently watch him go.
“Come on. He’ll be okay.” Sam takes my hand.
I hear a loud crash, then another crash accompanied by yelling and cursing. I start toward the toy store. When I get to the entrance, I can already see the destruction. Two of their largest toy displays are in a million pieces on the floor.
Startled shoppers are streaming out of the store. The store manager, Carl, looks like he wants to kill someone. Bobby is nowhere to be seen.
I feel a tug on my arm. “Come on, MacKenzie. He’ll be fine.”
“That’s all my fault,” I murmur, pointing to the mess.
“No, it’s his fault.”
“I was supposed to go to lunch with him. I feel terrible.”
“He’ll survive.”
He might not. “What if he gets fired?”
“Good riddance,” he mutters. “The guy’s a whack job.”
“No, Sam. He’s not. He’s a sweet guy.” I’m still staring at the mess on the floor.
“That guy?” he says, pointing inside. “That guy is a time bomb. It worries me that he’s set his sights on you. You’re too kindhearted to see it, MacKenzie.” Could he be the one? The graffiti artist? The one who broke into her place. Or both. I think they’re one and the same whoever did it.
“He’s my friend. I’m going to check on him.” I pull away from Sam. I may be kindhearted, but I’m not an idiot. I can read people.
“MacKenzie, he’ll be all right,” Sam says, reaching for my elbow.
“Wait here or don’t, Sam. I’m checking on him.” Cautiously, I walk into the toy store. Carl is already sweeping up some of the mess. “Carl? Can I go talk to him?”
“Be my guest.” I think he’s muttering, “Asshole Bobby,” but I can’t make it out for sure.