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At my words, Mac’s lips tug. He slides his hand around my waist and gives me a squeeze.
My smile widens, and I duck my head to hide it. I haven’t been out for ice cream in a long, long time, and for the past few years it’s always been with kids in tow. Kevin would always click his tongue if I got more than one scoop, and he’d grumble at the extra dollar for a waffle cone.
This feels so indulgent, I can’t wipe the smile off my face.
Mac pays before I can reach for my purse, ignoring my protests and handing me my cone. Then we walk to the edge of the parking lot, where a few benches are set out to admire the view. I take a seat next to Mac, keenly aware of the way his thigh is pressed against mine, the movement of his tongue over his ice cream cone, the way his hand is slung casually along the back of the bench behind me.
This feels like a date. When was the last time I went on a date?
Wait—no. I don’t want to think about that. It’ll make me feel too old.
“So,” Mac says after a while, “when are you going to let me see that pussy of yours?”
That’s when my ice cream decides to go down the wrong hole. Choking and spluttering, I cough out a shocked, “Excuse me?”
Mac keeps his eyes on the horizon, the setting sun turning his skin golden-brown while the corner of his lip twitches. “Mr. Fuzzles, was it?” When he meets my gaze, his eyes are dancing. “Why? What did you think I was talking about?”
Laughing, I nudge him with my shoulder and shake my head. “You’re unbelievable.”
Mac’s smile widens, turning my stomach into delicious knots. He drops his arm from the back of the bench to my shoulders, tugging me closer. “At least I put a smile on your face this evening. Mission accomplished.”
Oh. Everything from neck to navel warms inside me at his words—at the sincerity of them. He’s just…so damn sweet!
And as Mac lifts his treat to take a bite out of the waffle cone, then glances at me and gives me a cheeky wink, I know I don’t stand a chance to resist him.
Would it be so bad if I just…didn’t?
CHAPTER 14
Trina
We stay at the lookout until the sun sets and a chill creeps into the air. Our ice cream is long gone and there’s a lingering taste of sweetness in my mouth. When Mac takes me by the hand and leads me to his bike, my heart gives a mighty squeeze.
I like this.
I like being treated like a princess. I like having my hand held. I like simple pleasures like ice cream and sunsets.
And, apparently, I also like motorcycles.
We stand beside the bike and Mac puts my helmet on, his lips tugging once the latch is clicked beneath my chin.
“What?” I ask, seeing the glimmer in his eyes.
“You look cute in a motorcycle helmet.”
“I am not cute.”
His lips curl a bit more. “Okay, you look hot as fuck in a motorcycle helmet.” A chuckle falls from his lips when he sees the startled expression on my face. “Better?”
“You have strange preferences, Mr. Blair.”
That makes him laugh outright, and my heart clenches again. And when Mac leans down and presses his lips to mine in a soft, sweet kiss that quickly devolves to something deeper and wetter? Well, my heart nearly gives out completely.
When he pulls away, Mac brushes his thumb over my swollen lips and shakes his head. “I don’t think my preferences are strange at all.”
With practiced, easy movements, he mounts his bike and nods for me to follow. Then, we’re off onto winding, forested streets all the way back to Heart’s Cove, to the temporary rental my mother and I are occupying for the next week until we can move into Candice’s old place.
Mac pulls out in front of the house and we dismount. A deep well of disappointment opens up inside me as I remove my helmet, once again doing my best to smooth down the rat’s nest on top of my head.
