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Macklin’s hanging out on the couch with his white sock-clad feet resting on the coffee table while mine are still in his lap. I don’t know why the view makes me smile, but it does. He looks so natural here. In his element. Relaxed. Attractive. I blink and focus on the TV again, blindly grabbing another cookie from the plate on my stomach while resting my head against the armrest as the credits start to play.
The cookie’s chocolatey and soft yet crunchy, with precisely the right amount of sweetness. Which means it’s a Mama Taylor cookie. We’ve already done a blind taste test, and the results were unanimous. The recipe Mack found online was a solid second, and the premade tube took last place and is still sitting mostly untouched on the counter. But Mama Taylor’s? Those are things of beauty.
I gotta steal the woman’s recipe.
Mack looks out the large windows as the rain patters against the glass and lightning slashes the sky. “It’s really coming down.”
I twist my head to glance out the window at the dark storm. “Yeah. It is. What time is it?”
He looks at his Apple watch. “A little after midnight. You tired?”
“Actually, yeah. I’m beat.”
“You want me to drive you––”
Lightning cuts across the dark sky again, causing the inside of Mack’s home to glow for an instant, followed by a loud clap of thunder practically shaking the house.
“Is itsafeto drive right now?” I ask.
He glances out the window again. “I think we could make it.”
“Youthink?”
With a dry laugh, he turns off the television, setting the remote on the coffee table. “Okay, I know we could make it, but it might be a little rough.”
“How rough?” I question.
“Nothing too crazy. Worst case scenario, I’ll sleep at Theo’s.”
“You can’t sleep at Theo’s. I would feel terrible.”
“Hmm,” he hums, weighing our other options. “We could always turn on another movie and see if the rain lets up before I take you home? Or if you’re tired, you’re welcome to sleep in my room, and I’ll take the couch. I have two other bedrooms, but I haven’t bothered buying any furniture for them since I don’t usually have guests.”
The idea of Macklin having other guests sleeping here does weird things to my stomach, but I shove the feeling aside, refusing to acknowledge it, let alone analyze why.
Nope. No, thank you.
I’ve already been through the emotional wringer once today. No use doing it again.
Iamtired, though.
“What do you think?” he prods.
“Not gonna lie. I’m usually in bed by eleven,” I admit. A yawn hits, and I stifle it behind my hand, proving how tired I really am. It’s official. The day has finally caught up to me.
“Not a night owl, huh?” he notes, watching me with a smirk.
“Noooope,” I drag out the word as another yawn takes over.
He laughs and taps my knee. “Come on, Kate. I’ll take you to the bedroom.”
I settle further into the cushions. “It’s okay. I can take the couch.”
“Not gonna happen.” Mack stands up, stretches his arms over his head, and offers me his hand. “Come on. I’ll show you the master bedroom.”
* * *
It’s kind ofweird being in here. Intimate, somehow. A large mahogany bed sits in the center of the room with a navy blue comforter and thick, fluffy pillows. The idea of Macklin picking them out at Bed Bath & Beyond makes me smile. Biting the inside of my cheek, I swallow it back.
