Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
~DANNY~
The ride to lunch is quiet. Soft music plays over the radio, but I can’t hear what it is. I think maybe it’s Coldplay or something.
“I’m sorry if you don’t want me to interview you.” I try starting a conversation with her, but it fails, just like the last time I asked her where we’re going. “I didn’t ask for this assignment.”
“Food first, talk later” is all she says.
“It would be great if you could tell me where we’re going.”
“It’ll be worth it, I promise.”
“That’s helpful,” I reply and turn to look out the passenger-side window.
Mackenzie doesn’t drive an impressive vehicle, not that I would expect her to. It’s a small black Volkswagen SUV. Looks to be in relatively good shape. The amount of hair ties that are around the gearshift is comical. But it’s neat and looks like it’s well taken care of.
“Did you drive this to Tampa or buy it here?” I ask her.
“Drove it,” she says.
We’ve been in the car for a while, but we haven’t driven very far. The stadium sits in a high-traffic area, but she’s driving toward Davis Beach. I want to roll my window down to smell the salty air, but I don’t. For someone who lives in Tampa, I don’t make it to the beach very often.
Davis Beach is a good option, though, from what I’ve been told. It has nice white-sand beaches, with beautiful clear water. There’s no boardwalk, though, so we’re probably not eating on the beach.
She turns down a stretch of area with a variety of restaurants, then parks in front of a small Mexican restaurant.
“Wanna grab some tacos?” she asks with a wink.
“Do I really have a choice?” I ask her, winking right back.
“This place is good,” she defends.
We make our way into the restaurant. “Hola,” she calls to the woman behind the counter.
“Oh, Mac,” a woman replies with a heavy accent. She barely looks up from the paperwork she’s sorting, which makes me think she might be a manager or the owner of this place. “Go to your table. Who is your friend?”
“He’s no one.” She leads the way to a table in the back that has a window.
“Come here often?”
She giggles. “Cheesy pick-up line.”
“I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m just trying to figure out how you know the owner or management of this place.” I look around at the brightly painted walls. There are pictures hung up, and soft music plays in the background.
“I found this place when I went for a run along the beach. I was driving around one day, hungry, and I happened to come in here. Stella, the owner”—she motions to the woman who greeted her— “talked to me a while the first time I came in. She said I looked like I might need a friend.”
“And you needed one that day, huh?”
She nods. “I was new in town, and this was before we really started bringing the team together to practice and bond.” She puts air quotes around the bond part.
“This seems like it might be a far place to drive for a run. Your place is by the stadium, right?”
“Yeah,” she says slowly, like she’s trying to figure out how I know where her apartment is.
“August told me,” I fill her in, and she just shakes her head.
“He’s such an ass.”
“He’s not so bad.” I did have a good time drinking beer with him and Nick after the girls left. I felt a kinship with him. It can’t be easy living in his dad’s shadow. I know a thing or two about that.
“If you say so,” she replies.
Stella comes over to the table. “What would you like to drink?” Her brown eyes are warm. She smiles lovingly at Mackenzie.
We both order water, and she leaves us to review the menus in front of us.
“The fish tacos are killer,” Mackenzie tells me. “I’d also like to get some guac and chips, if you’re in.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” I reply. I leave my menu on the table, watching her peruse the one in front of her, but I have a feeling she already knows what she wants.
“Are you going to look?” she asks when she notices that I haven’t even picked up my menu.
“I thought you said the fish tacos were killer. I was just planning on getting those.” I grin at her, and she grins back, which I mark down in the win column.
“So, you’re just planning on getting those, huh? For all you know, I could be playing around with you.”
“Are you?” I ask.
Our eyes lock. It’s like we’re in a staring contest. But I don’t dare be the first one to break contact.
The look in her ocean blue eyes is intense.
Her cheeks heat with a bit of a flush, and her lips are slightly parted.
I think about how I would like to reach across this table and take a bite of that lip.
“Here is your guac.” Stella brings it over and places it onto the table, along with some chips and salsa. And even though Mackenzie feels so warmly toward her, I want to shoo her away so that this little stare off can continue.
Without looking away from me, Mackenzie says, “Thanks, Stel. We’ll take two orders of fish tacos.”
“Okay.” Her tone is concerned. She pauses at the table for a moment, probably trying to figure out if either of us is going to look in her direction, but we don’t.
Finally, Mackenzie laughs and snags a chip with guac on it. “Hmm,” she moans as she munches, immediately reaching for another one.
I decide to give it a try too. “This is amazing. How have I never known about this place?”
She laughs at me again. “Well, that’s because you probably don’t travel too far out of your comfort zone. Stick with me and I’ll get you out of it.”
“Get me out of what?” I liked the way she said the words. The lowness of her voice. It almost made it sound dirty.
“Your comfort zone.” She shakes her head at me. “What else would I be talking about?”
“Yeah, I don’t know,” I say, trying to play it off.
But she’s grinning at me like she’s found out all my hidden secrets.
“So, when do you want to start asking me questions?” She’s practically bouncing in her seat. It’s probably the guac that’s making her so happy. Like she’s been starving all day, and the food is giving her happy vibes or something.
“Mackenzie, I can’t begin asking you questions yet.
I have to run all of this by my editor, Martin, and then set up a timeline with the paper.
The timeline will be run by Maxwell to make sure that he’s okay with it.
Once we have that approved, then I can start asking you questions.
” She just nods, so I continue. “I’m sorry if you misunderstood. ”
“Call me Mac. If you don’t want to irritate me, please stop calling me Mackenzie.”
“She calls you Mackenzie.” I gesture over toward where Stella is standing behind the counter.
“She does. But I’m asking you to call me Mac, please. Plus, you had no problem calling me Mac when you said I lacked attack.” She winks at me as she pops another chip covered in guac into her mouth.
She’s beautiful, adorable, and the best part is that she doesn’t even seem to know it. I wish I could lean in closer and tell her those things. I shake my head to try to get rid of those thoughts.
“What?” she asks. “What was the shake of your head for?”
“Nothing, sorry. I just thought it was the perfect heading.”
“Uh-huh.” She’s not buying it, but I don’t have to worry about it because the food arrives.
She does a happy dance as she bites into the taco. It’s so adorable. I smile and watch her, having yet to take a bite of my own plate. It does smell heavenly, but so is the sight in front of me. I have to tear my eyes away to look at the four carefully plated fish tacos with a side of rice.
“This looks delicious.” I grin and pick up a taco.
“Tastes even better,” she says between bites.
I don’t miss that she’s already finished one and is working on another. I swear my grin spreads wider.
“Don’t make fun of me. I’m an athlete. I just practiced. I need some good fuel.” Sticking her tongue out at me, her eating continues.
“I know, I know,” I reply and take a bite of my own food. I moan.
“See, I know a thing or two.”
“I never said you didn’t.”
She just shrugs and watches me as I finish my first taco. Two of hers are gone, but based on how satisfied she looks right now, she could finish that whole plate and ask for more and I wouldn’t think twice about it.
Pausing, she asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?”
I fake that her words have wounded me. “I’m always nice.”
“Uh-huh, we’ll just pretend that’s true.”
I stop eating mid-bite. There’s been something on the tip of my tongue since we left Cromwell’s office.
I’ve got to say it. “Look, I wouldn’t actually print anything that you didn’t want me to.
Please know that. I may have had a little fun with you in the pressroom, but I won’t do that in this article. ”
“Why are you doing this again? What is the real reason, not whatever you’ve fed August.”
I sit back and consider telling her that I believe in this team. But she would see right through it, and I actually don’t. Not yet anyway.
“Because I get what August is feeling. He’s living in his father’s shadow, and eventually this team is going to be his.
Maxwell just wants to make sure that the first season goes well, and then he’s going to hand it over.
August wants something he can own, so this has to succeed so that he has something that is his. ”
That earns me an eye roll. “Yeah, which daddy built.” She snickers at her own comment.
“I’m sure he wants to do well on his own merit.”
“Then maybe he should buy the Knicks or something. To really set himself apart from his father.”
“That’s not what he’s going to do. He’s going to work on making the Blaze a success. He has some good ideas too.”
“Okay,” she says in a mocking tone.
I decide not to say anymore because I imagine that this is what happens when people talk about me and what I’m doing, although I’m setting myself apart more than August is.
At least I’m trying to. But I think that’s also part of why we got along so well last night the bar.
He gets it. He’s heard all the same criticisms that I have.
We eat mostly in silence because mostly I’m not sure what to say to her and she messes around on her phone.
“So, when does the interview crap start?” Mac asks me. I don’t need to look at her; to know she’s rolling her eyes.
“Ah, there’s the sass I’ve come to know.”
“Whatever. Seriously, are you going to follow us on the road?”
“Probably for some of it, as long as the paper is okay with it. Pays the bill and all that, I will. I’ll also need to talk to teammates and trainers. I’ll be like a second skin to you.” My voice drops an octave on the last sentence, and she stiffens.
What I wouldn’t give to be a second skin on her. To have her skin pressed against mine.
Fuck. I have to stop having these thoughts. This woman can be so infuriating; she’s not someone for me.
But it certainly is fun to play with her.