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“No problem,” she says in a tone of voice that makes it clear she has a problem with it. Hank has no idea her problem is with me.
“Come on, McKenzie,” her father says, “Take a little break from your very, very busy schedule to do your old man a favor, okay? Look, I’m sorry I thought it was yours.”
She rolls her eyes and smiles. “Okay, Daddy.”
“Since you’re here, you want a drink?” He laughs as Mack grabs an orange cream bottle. “Not that stuff. I mean a real drink.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m good. Wouldn’t have come by but when I got home, I put the drill and the sander in the trunk so I wouldn’t forget when Sunday rolled around but then the booze thing happened. I got something going on tonight.” That’s pretty much code for me checking in with informants and keeping them motivated.
God, I’m an asshole. That’s the second lie I tell Hank in the last hour.
“You have to come for dinner sometime, Grant,” Grace says.
“Soon, I promise,” I say, “Do you guys need any help with the luggage before I leave?”
“No. I brought the suitcase in already and it’ll go back with everything else in the morning,” Hank says.
I nod, give Grace a hug, and head out. I get three texts from Mack as I drive home. I don’t read them. I just turn off my phone.
Chapter 5
McKenzie
He finally responds to my texts on Saturday at about ten-thirty.I don’t want to hear it.I guess I don’t have any right to be pissed but I still am. What he doesn’t know is that I look at the text shortly after pulling into his driveway. He’s going to hear it whether or not he wants to.
It’s amazing how I can be angry and confident because of the anger. That confidence pushes me across the driveway and along the path to his front porch. It also gives my arm a hell of a lot of strength when it comes to beating my fist on the door instead of knocking.
It’s kind of frustrating how all the confidence disappears when he opens the door and glares at me. Mostly to avoid his gaze, I slip past him and stand behind him. “I was trying to tell you something with the texts,” I say, “And you…” Uh, I sound so damned weak!
“I’m not interested, Mack,” he says, “And I was up most the night so I’m going to bed. You can see yourself out.”
He walks away and I rush to the door and close it. “I’m not going to see myself out!”
“Suit yourself.” He reaches the corner to his hallway and disappears into it.
I rush after him. “You bastard!” I say, “Why are you being such an asshole?”
He ignores me and steps through one of the doors. I reach it before he can close it and wiggle in. “Why are you such a jerk?” I shout.
“Why are you so intent on being self-destructive?” he asks. It doesn’t really sound like a question but more of an accusation.
“What makes you think you have any say in my life?” I intend for my tone to be very biting and bitter. Instead, it sounds like I’m weakly and tentatively asking. I swear it’s like I’m some kind of silly, mousy student in the back of the classroom trembling as she raises her hand to ask a teacher to explain some concept a little more clearly. It’s the closeness. Any closer that this and it will be like back in my kitchen and the kiss.
“Somebody sure as hell ought to have a say in your life,” he growls, “Because you don’t seem to think there’s anything in your life worth protecting.”
“You can’t just keep dragging me over to your house to… to….” Yeah, I’m not being very effective here. This time, I came to his house. “You’re not in charge of me!”
“You’re not the boss of me?” he asks with an irritating as hell smile. “Really? That’s what you’re going to go with here? What’s next? Are you going to hold your breath until you get your way?”
“Fuck you!” I shout.
Don’t I learn? I mean, am I stupid? This is exactly how I got the spanking before, and here I am shouting at him again. His eyes grow dark just like before, and just like before I see how alluring and terrifying those eyes can be. I’m still filled with belligerence, though, more from habit than anger at this point. So, I stare defiantly back at him. We stare at each other for a moment and in that moment, every ounce of self-control we have disappears. I see the look in his eye a split second before it happens and know that my own expression mirrors it.
“What did you say to me?” he asks.
There is no mistaking the danger in his voice. It’s not that I want a spanking. Hell, I don’t even want to fight with him. Nonetheless, I can’t stop myself. “Fuck. You. That’s what I said. Do you need me to spell it?” I keep staring at him and I swear if someone takes a picture I’ll look like a caricature of an angry child. “Fuck you.”
Then it happens. He says, “Yes. You will.”
