MAC: LOL still can’t handle your booze I see.
TAWNY: Nope.
TAWNY: Thank you for last night. How did you find me?
MAC: Marcus called me. Ella was worried about you walking home. YOU should have called me, babe. We did talk about this in the truck… Don’t you remember?
TAWNY: Huh. Nope. Don’t remember that at all. I guess I’ll have to thank Marcus and Ella too. Walking home drunk wasn’t my smartest idea.
MAC: I’ll always come for you, T. No matter where you are.
I put the phone down as my breath whooshes out of me. As wonderful as that makes me feel, eighteen-year-old me demands to know why he didn’t come for me all those years ago. Sighing, I acknowledge her pain and push it down. I need to focus on growing; I have to move on if I want a future with him. And I do.
Someone knocks on my office door, but before I can say anything, it opens and Mac walks through, a grin on his face and what looks like a breakfast sandwich from the diner in his hands. Even though it’s the afternoon, I haven’t been able to eat anything because the only food that helps me when I’m hungover is a greasy diner breakfast. The fact that Mac remembers this from theonetime he saw me get really drunk leaves my mouth hanging open.
“Please tell me that’s a bacon and egg sandwich on a cheese scone,” I say.
He nods and hands the bag over. “I wasn’t sure if that was still your hangover cure, but Kayla brought Toby in for lunch while I was trying to decide what to get you and confirmed it for me.”
“You’re an angel.” I quickly unwrap the sandwich and moan when the aroma hits me. I eat the entire sandwich, then sit back in my chair with a sigh. “Better already.”
Mac grins, then walks around behind my desk and spins my chair so that I’m facing him. He leans down and holds my head gently in his hands before pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth.
“You had a little something right there.”
His soft touch sends a shiver down my spine.
“Thanks. I think I’ve got something right here too,” I whisper as I touch my neck. Mac gives me a wolfish smile and that shiver turns to a flickering heat, burning in my core. He kisses my neck, harder this time, and doesn’t stop at just one. He kisses me in a trail from the base of my neck up to my jawline and over until finally he reaches my lips. I grab his head and hold him there as we lose ourselves in our kiss and that flicker builds into an inferno of need.
“Mac…” I breathe, unable to formulate a full sentence.
“I need you, T. But not here.” Somehow Mac has the strength to pull back, but I can’t hide my whimper at the loss of his lips on mine. He leans down and kisses me, fast and hard, before walking back to the other side of my desk. His face is flushed, his shoulders are heaving, and I watch him adjust himself in his pants with a satisfied smile. Knowing I have this effect on him is powerful and I’m sure it’s written all over my face just how much he turns me on.
“What time can you finish work?” he asks, a heated promise behind his words.
“I can probably get out by six.”
“Perfect. We’re going to have a date.” Mac smiles, but his words have me nervous.
“We can’t go out in public together, Mac,” I say quietly.
“Don’t worry, we won’t. But I do need your house key.”
I hand it over without asking any questions. I trust him and now I’m curious about what he’s planning. He gives me one more quick kiss, then turns and leaves, closing my office door behind him.
I drop my head to my desk, trying to figure out how I’m going to get through another four hours of work without spending the entire time fantasizing about Mac. Thankfully, the one thing that can kill arousal faster than anything is the mind-numbing repetition of inventory. And that was my Friday afternoon plan. To my relief, it worked. Mostly.
Shortly after six, I pull into my driveway. Mac’s truck isn’t here, which has me wondering what’s going on. He’s got my house key, so hopefully he’s here or I’m locked out.
When I try my front door, it opens and I’m greeted with the aroma of something delicious, and the sight of candles flickering down my hallway. Mac appears in the entrance to the kitchen, looking like he stepped off the pages of a romance novel. Dark slacks are perfectly molded to his legs and the sleeves of his blue dress shirt are rolled up to reveal his forearms. To top it all off, he’s smilingthatsmile at me, the one that makes my knees week, and holding a single red rose.
“Welcome home, my love.”
Tears are forming behind my eyes, because this is just so perfect. It’s all of my dreams come true; Mac waiting for me at home, sweeping me off my feet with romance. I drop my bag and coat on the floor, slip off my heels and run to him. He catches me and lifts me so I can wrap my legs around his waist as we kiss.
“I love you,” I whisper as our foreheads rest against each other.
“And I love you,” comes his earnest reply.
