CHAPTER 13
Hunter made it through a weekend of babysitting like uncle of the freaking year. He went back to being large and in charge, a guy totally on top of his game. Back to beingthe Man. Until he walked through Mackenzie’s front door Sunday night and glimpsed her sitting in the sunroom eating a bowl of peaches and wearing the sweetest of smiles on her lips.
Jesus, those smiles. More of them appeared as the days went on, sometimes accompanied by comforting encouragement, other times with a gentle brush of her hand over his. Every time, though, they knocked him off balance.
So it was no surprise that by the time Thursday rolled around, Hunter was a complete goner.
Spending a week engaged in a never-ending battle of look-but-don’t-touch with Mackenzie had only increased the tension between them. Not to mention the heat. Which was edging closer and closer to surface-of-the-fucking-sun, taking Hunter closer and closer to the point of no return.
Bottom line, Mackenzie slayed him. Mind, body, and soul—she had completely captivated him. He spent his days watching her spin words into magic and his evenings uncovering all the nuances that made her tick. In fact, the more he learned about Mackenzie, the harder it became to keep his distance. Even when he was sleeping, she consumed his thoughts.
Not that sleeping was an accurate description. Nope, with Mackenzie only two rooms away, lying in what he could only imagine were tangled sheets and some bright-colored lace, sleep was impossible.
Focusing was impossible. Hell, he’d spent his days distracted by her voice, her scent, intoxicated by the way she moved. Nights were no better, since he replayed that kiss of theirs until the taste was so real it lingered like a fine wine on his tongue.
Hunter was in a bad way.
Which was the only reason he didn’t notice the set of serious fuck-me eyes aimed his way until it was too late.
And they weren’t the warm, melt-your-soul variety he’d been hoping to see emerge from the community center. These were mascara-rimmed and intense—and headed his way.
Not wanting to engage with a fan right then, Hunter pulled his ball cap lower and rested his forearms on his thighs, pretending to be sending an email on his phone, when in reality he was playing Candy Crush.
The sun was nearly set. Mackenzie was about to come out from her meeting any minute, and he was anxious to hear how her class had gone.
When they’d arrived earlier, he’d planned on dropping her off and heading downtown to Big Daddy’s, but she’d paused at the front door to the building, staring at it instead of going in. He’d offered to go in with her, or at least walk her to her classroom, but she’d given him a hard no, explaining that she didn’t want his fame to cause a riot, then reminded him he was her driver—not her keeper.
He’d pointed out that it was a support group for the blind, so unless he started singing they should be fine, but she said his smugness was a dead giveaway, and blind or not, the other members would be distracted by him. No escort needed. She’d call him when she needed to be picked up.
Hunter had watched her swish that heart-shaped ass of hers before hopping back in his car and driving out of the parking lot, only to circle the block twice and go back to make sure she went inside the building. Then he’d turned off his car and waited patiently for her to call while doing his best not to attract any attention.
He’d failed at both.
His patience had vanished the second she’d disappeared into the brick building with the wheelchair ramp and motion-activated doors. The attention he’d attracted was from a tall, fiery redhead who was staring at him as if trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.
This kind of thing happened all the time. It was the downside to making it in his industry. A fan would spot him, ask for a selfie, then before he knew it he’d be surrounded by dozens of people all wanting something.
Normally, he was more than happy to visit, sign a few autographs, even pose for the camera. But since Mackenzie had looked close to calling it a night even before she’d exited his car, Hunter crouched down on the bench, tugging his ball cap lower.
Thankfully, the woman hadn’t made the connection yet. In about two seconds, Mackenzie was going to exit the building, and he didn’t want to give her another reason to close up on him.
He meant what he’d said about that all-night-long kiss under the porch lights. It had been a week of playing by her rules, and they were no closer to figuring out this thing between them.
Time for a different approach. One that included proving just how great things between them could be. The only thing he knew for sure was that she’d be hungry—and he was going to use that to his benefit.Sure, there were some steaks in her fridge, but he wanted tonight to be special.
Going to support group had been a huge step out of her comfort zone, and he wanted to celebrate that. Over the past week, they’d gotten into a routine. Out of bed and in the studio by dawn, they’d work on the album until noon, then walk down to the grocery store and buy a couple of sandwiches and all the fixings for supper. After Mackenzie put another aisle to memory, they’d walk back home to her sunroom and share the sandwiches before hitting the studio for another few hours.
Supper would be in the kitchen. Last night, they had enjoyed Hunter’s homemade chili while sitting on the back porch, which was a nice change. But tonight needed to be different. He was determined to get her away from the comfort of home in hopes they’d share other, more personal things.
Mackenzie liked talking about herself almost as much as she liked going out in public, so it would take some serious convincing on his part. But he’d already gotten over the biggest hurdle—getting her downtown. It wouldn’t be that hard to get her to agree to supper at Big Daddy’s. Once he got her to the bar and she reconnected with all her old friends, she’d remember how easy it could be.
“Excuse me,” the redhead said, pulling up on a bike. Not the kind with a motor but the pedal kind. It was light blue, with a white basket attached to the front. Inside, riding shotgun, sat a pocket-size powder puff with wet black doggy eyes and paws bigger than his head.
Both driver and dog wore fitted pink tees that said BITCHES WITH ABITE, and while the dog was shoeless, the woman had on black boots—steel toed by the looks. She was an interesting combination of Dr. Dolittle meets GI Jane. “Are you Hunter?”
And here we go ...
Adopting his best cover-of-Rolling-Stonegrin, he stuck out his hand. “Yes, ma’am.” When she just looked at it as if unsure he’d washedhis hands after using the little boys’ room, he flipped his ball cap around and said, “I bet you want an autograph or a picture.”
