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ChapterFour
Sidney
The sun is bright at the ungodly hour Mack wakes me. His clothes are still soot-covered, and he looks good enough to eat. Or maybe it’s good enough to get all dirty with. I’m not sure of anything except my brain doesn’t do well on very little sleep, crashing adrenaline, and no caffeine.
The sliver of sky through the open door holds streaks of color in its smoky haze that lingers, but it’s cooler, and not only because the hour is hitting on six a.m., but the storm’s dampened the heat.
Last night Mack showed me how the five-star chemical toilet operates with zero embarrassment. My mother would’ve been apoplectic, my father not far behind. And the rest of the men they push at me, they’d all faint on the spot, in a pile.
Vic would want one.
Getting up, I straighten my bed, use the facilities, and straighten my grime-ridden shirt. There’s a mirror, but . . . I don’t look. Just splash some water on my cheeks. There’s some kind of tank system he explained, but I’d fail that exam if asked how it all worked.
“Ready to go?” Mack asks when I come out.
I nod. Everything is neat and straightened, like we weren’t even here. Even the radio sits in its spot on the small desk that’s pushed against the wall opposite the bed. He’s taken one of the chairs from the kitchen table and put it there, like someone’s going to just waltz in and get to work.
My handbag’s hanging from one large hand and his bag’s slung over a shoulder. My gaze can’t help but meander over his broad shoulders and chest, the muscles of his arms, those tattoos. Especially the heavy sleeve.
It makes my heart gallop and my pulse flutter, and a warmth spreads inside.
The man is the epitome of hot. And—
“They made two of us. Of course, my brother’s married, but if his wife’s amenable, I’m sure we could pose and flex for your enjoyment. Like stereo. But for eyes.”
Heat flares hot and bright everywhere. I stalk up, snatch my bag, and stomp out. It’s like I’ve never seen a man.
Suddenly, I look back as I stomp. “You’re a twin?”
He grabs me as my foot meets the air.
A spark of lightning shoots through me at his touch, and my breath catches as our gazes meet.
In the morning sun, he has the most incredible eyes. Brown, dark, and warm, like there’s copper infused in them. “I don’t do signed photos. And yeah, twins. He’s the sheriff, so if you’re gonna break laws, maybe do that around the right brother. The better looking one.”
“You’re not identical?”
He laughs, pulling me back to solid ground. “We are. I’m better looking. Younger too. And if you drive like you walk, no wonder your Audi made friends with that fuckin’ tree.”
He’s mocking me. I give my arm a small tug, knowing I’m being ungrateful. Knowing I’m probably acting like the princess I’m not. Knowing I shouldn’t because none of this is me. Understanding, and doing it all, anyway.
Mack rubs me the wrong way. He’s too charming, too good-looking, too ready to judge for my liking.
Not to mention nosy and bossy.
He lets me go. “Let’s get this show on the road. I’ll drop you off at Holiday Cabins Resort.”
“I’m not looking to stay here in town.”
He eyes me then heads to his truck and dumps his bag in the back and starts checking over things. “Yeah, well, your car’s gonna need to be fixed before you can hightail it out of Dodge. Now, get in. The sooner we start driving, the sooner we’ll be back, and the sooner your Audi’ll be roadworthy and you can be out of here.”
I don’t dignify that with an answer.
* * *
Mack’s voice has this serene calmness to it. So calm that the rumble of the low tones and the rock of the truck put me to sleep.
He isn’t talking to me. He’s on the two-way radio in his truck, talking to someone called Callahan. Though talking might be pushing it. To me, it’s pure banter, the kind that’s so bullshit and familiar that makes me ache.
