“I’m never drinking again,” she grumbled to herself while pinching her fingers to her forehead in a lame attempt to hold her brain in place.
“That’d be a shame, since I like you better drunk,” a masculine voice said from behind her. “You’re friendlier.”
Terror caught her off guard and she spun toward the voice, her eyes darting frantically around the room. A habit that did nothing to help the situation. She couldn’t see a thing.
Her hand grabbed the mug off the counter, and she threw it in the direction of the voice.
“What the—”
Porcelain shattered against the wall, the sound exploding through the room as she reached for the carton of cream.
“Whoa there.” A hand came up to stop her as she took aim. She jerked back and lost her balance, tripping over Muttley, who was barking as if he meant to tear off a limb. But instead of her falling backward, two strong arms circled around her, holding her steady. “It’s me.”
Hunter.
Relief washed through her, bringing with it a double shot of irritation. Hunter had let himself into her home.
“It’s me?”she repeated in her best Hunter impression, trying to get her heart to slow back to a speed that wasn’t bordering on stroke levels. “Unless you want me to give my dog the command to eat your nuts off, you need to be more specific.”
When she’d lost her sight, Mackenzie had lost a part of her independence that had been hard-won. Situations where she couldn’t anticipate the outcome fueled a heated panic that swept through her body, churning up her deepest fear: that something would happen while she was alone and utterly defenseless.
Not that she was going to admit that. Not to him, at least.
“Eat my nuts off?” he repeated, sounding way too amused, which ticked her off.
That easygoing confidence of Hunter’s slid beneath her barrier. She told herself she was immune to his woman-whispering ways but knew it was a lie.
“Your charm doesn’t work on me,” she said as she reached for the sugar jar. “And since the only guy with a key to my door is Arthur, and you’re clearly not him, I’d cover your boys.”
“Arthur?”
“My neighbor,” she said. “Now state your name.”
“According toPeopleMagazine, I’m the Sexiest Man Alive and have the best buns two years running,” he said, taking the sugar jar from her and setting it down. “Want to feel?”
The familiar texture of his callused hands on her skin registered, and Mackenzie knew she wasn’t out of danger. Not by a long shot. A stranger there to steal her valuables would have been less of a threat than Hunter, who had that swagger dialed to panty-melting levels.
He took her hands and drew them around his waist to—
Oh.
My.
God.
If she didn’t do something, she was actually going to touch Hunter Kane’s butt. And then what? He’d get all charming and funny and ask her if she agreed with the press, and what was she supposed to do, lie?
“No thanks.” She jerked her hands back. “Buns aren’t on my diet,” she said, remembering just how magnificent his butt was. She’d often spent entire shifts watching it strut around the bar.
As far as she was concerned, he had the best bunssevenyears running.
“What? Are you gluten-free now?” he asked, and she could feel him smile.
After last night?“Man-free.”
“DoesArthurknow that?” he asked, and Mackenzie had to bite back a smile. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Hunter was jealous of her sixty-nine-year-old neighbor. Not that he needed to know how old Arthur was.
“Arthur is very considerate of my need for privacy.”
