“Hi, Ms. Maggie,” I greeted.
“Hi, Aunt Maggie,” Mac said less enthusiastically.
“That was awful nice of you to work late, MacKenzie Eloise. But Larry said you weren’t planning on coming to family dinner tonight because you had something to do.” Maggie’s keen gaze landed pointedly on me, and I could feel my ears getting hot.
“Oh, right,” Mac said confidently. “I’m supposed to actually?—”
“Good!” Maggie crowed, ignoring her niece completely. “So glad you can find the time to join us. And, Brady, honey, we’d love to have you come too. The more, the merrier.” Her grin was wide and pleased and completely unhinged. All teeth.
I swallowed. I had a Southern momma, too. So I knew a threat when I heard one. It might have been wrapped inhoneysand dinner invitations, but there was a very clear expectation here. And despite Mac’s intent to avoid going, I had no desire of getting on Maggie Clark’s bad side.
“Yes, ma’am. That sounds wonderful. I can’t wait.”
Mac shot me a disappointed glare.
“Perfect. See y’all up at the house.” Then she was gone in a cloud of dust and Aqua Net hairspray.
“Shit,” Mac muttered, staring after her aunt.
“It’ll be fine,” I assured her. This would be a good trial run for when everyone found out about us anyway.
But then Mac blew out a frustrated breath and said, “We’ll just say you were spying on the farm for competition purposes and I caught you.”
I frowned. “That is ridiculous.”
She made a rude sound. “Yeah, but it’s believable.”
“Why don’t we just tell them—” I cut myself off at her sharp glance.The truthstayed glued to the inside of my mouth.
“What? Do you have a better idea?” she snapped.
My brain practically shouted:Yeah, just tell them we’re together. That I fucking love you.That we’ve been banging for months behind their backs.
Maybe not that last part.
I swallowed uncomfortably and kept my thoughts to myself, saying instead, “Maybe it won’t come up.”
Mac gave me an incredulous look.
“I don’t want to lie, okay?” I confessed. “Let’s just go to dinner before she comes back and drags us there by our ears.”
“Fine,” Mac said and started walking toward her Jeep.
I followed, feeling like I was marching to the front lines.
It wasn’t going . . . great.
But it could have been worse.
Everyone was gathered in the kitchen when we arrived. I could see Maggie stirring something at the stove while Mac’s mom, Patty, stood nearby. Will Clark was next to the fridge, glass in hand. Becca and Larry were at the center island, counting silverware and placemats. And Mac’s father, Robert, and his brother, William, were carrying in a cooler with ice.
I was all for helping out. If God or Maggie Clark would grant me something to do that was not just standing in the doorway being stared at, I would have really appreciated it.
When Laramie caught sight of me, she straightened on her stool at the counter and grinned so wide and hard that I checked behind me to make sure Dolly Parton or a Hemsworth brother hadn’t strolled in.
“Stop it,” Mac hissed at her cousin. “You look deranged.”
Becca linked her arm through Larry’s and said just loud enough to be heard, “It’s finally happening.”
