I laughed into the darkness.
“Besides,” she continued, “you’re not really my type.”
From our long history, I knew she was trying to get under my skin, but even with that knowledge, I couldn’t ignore the sharp edge of hurt her words caused. Maybe I’d only realized it recently, but Ididwant to be MacKenzie Clark’s type.
“Oh, really,” I said, making sure my tone was even, casual as a Friday. “Because I’m not a loan officer or a dentist.”
Mac held so still that I didn’t think she was even breathing.
Maybe it was weird that I knew the occupations of the last two guys she’d dated. I probably shouldn’t have said that.
Finally, she replied primly, “There’s nothing wrong with being a loan officer or a dentist.”
“I totally agree. Gum health is important.”
That had her exhaling a short laugh.
But what I didn’t say could fill up every wheelbarrow in this shed. Mac needed more than a safe guy with a steady career and a 401(k). She needed someone to challenge her, to call her on her bullshit. Mac didn’t want to be taken care of by some buttoned-up nice guy.
As long as I’d known her, she’d been bold and fierce with a wild streak a mile wide. Now, she was a strong, independent woman—fearless and vulnerable in unexpected ways.
She always picked Kirby Falls transplants to date. Men who moved here in adulthood. They usually owned businesses or held down standard nine-to-five jobs.
Mac dated those men because there was a safety net beneath each one. But in reality, if she let them see who she really was, she’d eat them alive. Instead, she settled, and then she got bored. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was like she was forcing herself into a mold, and then when it got too uncomfortable, she bolted.
“But?” she prompted, jolting me out of my thoughts. “I know you want to say something. And not about gingivitis.”
My heart thumped hard in my rib cage, and I wondered if she could feel it. This was getting close to the imaginary line we’d drawn. Who Mac dated skirted the border of things she wasn’t ready to talk about ... like kissing in front seats and how all those guys should have been me.
So, I hedged a little. “But ... I think they’re a little boring. For you.”
She lifted up on her elbow to look at me. “For me? What does that mean?”
I couldn’t look at her when she was this close. Not when I could feel her legs tangled with mine and her hand resting over my heart.
So I shifted, placing my hands behind my head and looking up at the dark ceiling of the shed. “It just means I think you date these safe, boring guys who don’t hold your interest. I think you need someone who would be a good match. Someone who’s a little wild. Someone who’s going to be more than safe, where you’re concerned.”
It took everything in me to keep my gaze fixed on the roof over my head. I wanted to gauge her features in the dim lantern light. I wanted to watch her react to my words before her brain reminded her I was the one speaking them. But most of all, I wanted to kiss her again and make herseeme.
Thirty seconds passed while I fought my instincts. I didn’t fidget or squirm or reposition my body.
Mac settled back at my side but remained quiet. It wasn’t like her. I was used to a Mac who reacted quickly and, at times, violently. This thoughtful, subtle creature nestled against me was an unknown.
Attempting to break the tension, I joked, “You’re not going to bite me, are you?”
“Where didthatcome from?” she asked, incredulous.
I grinned and brought my arm back around her shoulders, my fingers sifting through her dark hair. I felt more content than I had any right to be lying on the floor of a cold shed. “I just remembered how mad you got that time in kindergarten when you bit Mrs. DeBusk. Annnnd you’re pretty close to my jugular.”
Mac laughed, her breath warm against the exposed skin of my neck. “I’m not going to bite you. Jesus. Why do you even remember that?”
“I remember everything, Macklemore.”
Another moment passed. I felt her swallow before saying, “That’s a new nickname.”
Grinning, I rested my chin on top of her head. “I just thought of it.”
eight
