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I huff out an embarrassed but flattered laugh. "Thank you. Okay, all awkward mortification aside, where are we going to dinner?"
"I tried asking around for some good suggestions. It sounds like there's the Brocker Lodge, a teahouse owned by Owen's sister-in-law, or a barbecue joint not far from the motel. However, I get the impression that you'd rather pass on Brownie’s Tavern, considering the look on your face each time I drove by you and Kenny earlier."
I hold up a hand. "Don't even get me started on that man. And I'm always up for some good barbecue."
He nods and starts the truck. "My kind of girl," he chuckles and casts a boyish grin. "Obviously."
I fidget in my seat, suddenly panicked that Mack and I slid headfirst into a gray area without defined boundaries. Is this a date? Is this dinner between friends? Coworkers?
"Mack?"
"Yeah?"
"Tonight's dinner is professional, just dinner between coworker friends, right?"
He glances over. The gold flecks in his forest green eyes glow like embers. "One hundred percent professional."
MACK
There's nothing more deflating than the phrase we’re just friends being said within the first five minutes of a date with a gorgeous woman. I should be relieved that Brooke clarified that tonight's dinner is between co-workers, old friends at the most.
Honestly, going to dinner as friends is what I’d intended for tonight when I first asked Brooke after the attack with the rock and truck fire.
But now?
I sneak a glance over at the prettiest girl in the world sitting next to me. Something has to be wrong with me to put myself through such sweet torment. From the moment I saw Brooke walking across her college campus as a freshman, laughing with her friends, her long dark hair blowing gently in the breeze, her deep blue eyes shining, I fell in love.
And apparently never fell out.
I've gone to war, jumped from planes into forest fires, run into burning buildings, and even squared off with a lunatic kidnapper in DC, but I'm more nervous over a half rack of ribs with this girl than I was facing all of those things.
The truth punches me in the gut. Brooke has always meant so much to me that the idea of failing with her twice just might kill off the good-natured Drake in me and leave me as all kick-ass Mack.
I don't know which one I fear more. Heartbroken or heartless—neither is a good choice. I didn't realize that I was at war with myself until Brooke showed up out of the blue. Actually, she was in blue. Her soft blue cocktail dress hugged her body like a silky sheet, and I undressed her a hundred times with my eyes before I got the chance to talk with her.
Pulling open the door at Mountain Top BBQ, I step back so Brooke can pass. My gaze travels over the tight fit of her jeans. Over the years, she's become softer, rounder in all the right places. I shake my head, trying to clear it.
Drake wants to hold her, stroke her hair and tickle her sensitive flesh on the undersides of her breasts and the inner parts of her thighs.
However, Mack wants to slap her ass, then slide his thick cock between her legs and rub her clit while pumping inch after inch into her, again and again, until she comes.
I press the bottom of my palms to the backs of my eyes, blinking a few times before trailing behind my temptress.
I'm going certifiably fucking nuts. The only girl I ever proposed to has magically transformed into a drop-dead-gorgeous woman who, with her mere presence, makes my cock thicken and jump around like it's trying to wave her down.
We slide into the wooden booth, and I clip the tip of my dick on the edge of the table as I awkwardly bend over trying to hide my growing erection. I emit a sound that only men know and land hard on the bench seat, cursing under my breath. If that doesn’t temper my boner, then I don’t know what will.
Brooke's baby blues fill with concern. "Did you just stub your toe? Are you okay?"
I nod. "Yeah, all good here, though. What do you like to eat from this place? My buddy Tyson came here on Friday night and has been back almost every day since."
Brooke bites her bottom lip, and I'm riveted. "That's a hard one. I love their brisket. The meat is so tender, it melts in your mouth. But their ribs are finger lickin' good if you know what I mean."
Yup, I'm definitely out of my mind. Everything she just said sounded like foreplay to me. I rub a hand over my face and blink a few times.
Brooke arches a brow. "So what do you think?"
I shake my head and chuckle. "It all sounds so good I can't decide."
