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Maggie:
Hey. Thank you again for tonight.
And I'm sorry if Audrey and Cal drive you nuts.
His response took over an hour to come through.
Mac:
It's fine.
What are friends for?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Maggiecouldn’tresistthepull of Mac’s forge when she stopped by the house for girls’ night. It had been five days since she’d seen him, and if she were being honest, the lack of his presence was starting to get to her. Usually they ran into each other at the shop, or she’d see him in the coffee shop.
He’s just busy, she told herself as he sent her fifth call to voicemail and left her twelfth text unread. He dropped off four blades yesterday after you left. That’s a lot of time and effort, not to mention his classes. Aren’t finals coming up? Even with logical Maggie making an appearance, she couldn’t shake the idea that something was very wrong.
She could hear the whine of the grinder as she parked her car. It was still early enough and light enough for Mac to work without disrupting the neighbors. Maggie closed her car door and speed walked around the back of the house. Her heart beat faster at just the prospect of seeing him again.
Mac’s back was to her, the shed door open wide, and the flame from his forge splashing reds and oranges along his brawny forearms. Today’s Henley was navy blue, and it fit his solid back and arms like a second skin. Her own skin tightened over her bones as she watched him work, especially when she let her gaze drift to the firm swell of his ass in the dark denim he always wore. He had on ear protection and a pair of clear goggles, and Maggie watched as he methodically drew the metal back and forth along the spinning sander. Sparks sizzled off the blade, and Maggie paused, heart in her throat. Mac didn’t even flinch.
He held the blade out in front of him, nodded, and set it down on one of his tables. Mac turned, headphones still over his ears, and froze as his eyes met Maggie’s. His gaze dropped to her mouth, and she watched as his pupils spread, almost covering his dark irises. His own lips parted, and Maggie couldn’t stop the small smile that curved her own.
“Hi,” she said as Mac pulled his headphones off.
She immediately wanted to plant her face in her hands. All she could come up with was “hi?” Had his butt fried her brain cells?
She tried again. “I haven’t seen you in a few days and—”I missed you? I want you again? I feel like you’re avoiding me? I think I love you.“I wanted to say—”
“Hi?”
Maggie nodded.
“Okay then,” Mac said, his gaze still fixed on her mouth.
Mac wasn’t exactly verbose, but something about this conversation felt off. Where was the little half smile that usually tipped up the corner of his lips? Where was the pink that tinged the skin of his cheeks? He used more words with Audrey, for god’s sake.
“Do you need something?” Mac asked.
He turned off the grinder, and Maggie watched his arms flex with the movement. He grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his forehead. She needed him to look at her. After sleeping together, Maggie hadn’t thought they needed to define their relationship, especially after he’d cut her off, but maybe she’d been wrong. She’d assumed they were a couple. That they were together. She’d thought Mac knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t have just slept with him without her heart engaged at least a little. Maybe she’d been wrong.
“I missed you,” Maggie said. “I know we haven’t been hanging out that long, but I like seeing you and talking to you and—”
Maggie lost the rest of her thoughts and words as Mac leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. Her lips were already open, and his tongue pushed inside in a proprietary sweep before tangling with hers. One of his hands snaked around her waist and pulled her up against his chest before sliding down to grip her butt. His lips were firm and dry, and everything about him was hot from the forge, so the inside of his mouth was a cool caress in comparison.
Maggie lifted on her toes and pressed closer to him, catching his groan with her mouth as they traded slow, wet kisses back and forth. She could feel him hardening against her belly, and heat tripped through her veins as she wrapped her hands up and around his neck. She carded them through his hair, holding his face to hers.
His lips slid from her mouth and pressed little nips and suckles to her jaw, her neck, her exposed collarbone. She was damp and achy between her thighs. Maggie wasn’t sure if wearing jeans had been a horrible idea, since there was an extra layer keeping Mac from pressing into her, or if they’d been a wonderful one because if she shifted her hips just right, the center seam pressed on all her good bits.
Maggie lifted her leg to wrap around Mac’s waist. The toe of her sneaker snagged on a hammer he had on his workstation. It clattered to the ground, with a bang that echoed in the tiny forge.
Mac froze against her. For a heartbeat she thought he would kiss her again, that the interruption had been momentary, but Mac unwound her hands from his neck, and pushed her away from his body.
“This isn’t a safe place for—this,” Mac said. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.”
Maggie’s smile spread to the tips of her toes. He wasn’t saying no, just not here. She could work with that. It wasn’t a rejection.
