Chapter Sixteen

Mack awoke to sun streaming through the window, a far cry from her bedroom, which she kept pitch black. In a rush it came back: her night with Abbi, the drive to Connor’s, the sex. Oh God, the sex. The smell of something sweet hung in the air, a hint of vanilla. She saw the crumbs of rhubarb cake on the plate they’d left on the nightstand.

She couldn’t believe she’d spent the night. In the history of Mack, the desire to spend the night was the equivalent of walking into a no-name liquor store in the mountains and finding her favorite French wine for the right vintage and price. It simply wasn’t what happened.

Spending the night meant wanting to see the person again. It meant orgasms had not only been achieved but at sufficient intensity and frequency to be at least as satisfying as a night home with her best friends Netflix and Hitachi.

It meant the possibility of round two. Or three. Or more.

It meant having gotten into bed together to begin with.

Connor wasn’t beside her. But it wasn’t like he’d stayed at her place and slipped away without saying good-bye. She could hear him downstairs prepping brunch for their friends. It felt almost…normal. He was so okay her being there, he’d thought nothing of going about his routine.

She looked around his bedroom, which she’d been too distracted to pay much attention to last night. It had the same feeling as the rest of his house. There was nothing overtly wrong, but the empty walls made it look temporary. It reminded her that however good it felt in his arms, however much she wanted to wake up here, these weren’t feelings that would last.

They wouldn’t be easy to forget, though. In the bathroom she saw the redness on her cheek, her neck, and around her breasts where his beard had scraped her. Her nipples were sore and mottled from his teeth. She might have cringed at the evidence, but the truth was that she loved the marks, how clear it was that he had claimed her. Her thighs ached with the memory of feeling so full.

She had no clothes upstairs. Or with her, since the last thing she wanted was to put on her going-out dress again. She threw on the shirt he’d been wearing last night, a soft gray T-shirt that was enormous on her. It was really comfortable. She was making plans to steal it when he came upstairs.

He must have heard her moving about because he had a steaming cup of coffee with him.

Black, how he knew she liked it.

“Like your heart,” he told her every time he made her coffee at Mack Daddy’s, and this time he said it, too. Only he kissed the tip of her nose as he gave it to her. She had no idea what to think.

“Um. Hi,” she said.

“Hi.” There was an awkward beat, and then he grinned. “My shirt looks good on you.”

“I don’t have a lot of options. Thanks for the coffee.” She took a sip. It was as good as he made it at the restaurant.

She saw his eyes widen.

“What?” she asked. “Did you poison it?”

He swallowed. “It suddenly occurred to me I maybe should have woken you up earlier.”

“Why? What time is it?”

“Ten thirty.”

“What?”

“I texted everyone to come at eleven instead of ten,” he said quickly. “But I didn’t think about whether you needed to go home first.”

“It’s fine,” she said, setting the coffee down next to the plate. “I can run home, shower, change. I’ll be a little late but that’s no big deal.” She was ready for him to agree, jump into action, help her gather her things. But his face suddenly looked like it was missing a few pints of blood.

“I, uh…” He looked away.

“Tell me,” she said.

“I may have told them I was pushing it back because you were here. For work,” he added quickly. “I said it was for work. Is that okay?”

“Dammit, Connor. You couldn’t have asked me first?”

“I wanted to let you sleep. We were up so late and you were burrito-ed up like a little Mack morsel. I couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t say cute things, I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

He smiled. “You can shower here.”

“And put on my little black dress? The one Abbi saw me in last night?”

“I can tell them it’s sexy brunch.”

“Are you going to serve everyone naked cake?” She pretended to be shocked.

Connor wrapped his arms around her. “Only you get naked cake,” he said, kissing her forehead.

His cell phone rang by the side of the bed and reluctantly he pulled away. “Sorry, I have to get this,” he said as he checked the number.

“I’ll hop in the shower,” she said.

Mack went into the bathroom, but before she ran the water she could hear him pick up and say, “I’m working on it,” and then, “Exactly what I told you I would.”

Then he sighed, and there came a long pause. Mack knew she shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t help it. What was he talking about?

“I have a completed menu I can send you. When the blueprints are finished, you’ll be the first to know. But I have to go. I’ll call you back tonight and we can talk more.”

He hung up, and Mack started the shower, trying not to seem as though she’d been listening in. “What was that about?” she asked casually as she checked the temperature.

“Nothing,” he said.

She glanced over at him. “You’re just sending everything about our business to someone who didn’t sound like Sam?” she asked.

She saw him flinch. “My dad,” he admitted. “He’s covering my part of the investment, so he wants to know what’s going on.”

Mack wished she still had his shirt on. Or better yet, her own. She wished she didn’t feel quite so naked when she said, “Let me guess. He’s the one behind this whole drive to make the Branding name worth something around here.”

“It’s not like that. I pitched him my idea, and he said he’d support it. If I had all the resources in the world, maybe I’d do something different. Big communal tables to go with the sharing plates, someplace with bright colors that would be inviting rather than, you know—”

“Stuffy,” Mack said pointedly, folding her arms over her breasts.

“But I know what sells, okay?”

“In other words, Daddy wouldn’t fork over for a bar named Mackenzie’s.” She tried not to let her voice break as she said it, but Connor must have heard, because his eyes went soft.

“We have to make sure whatever we have doesn’t close in a year. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

“And if it doesn’t work? If you and your family don’t get the restaurant you want, or it closes anyway?”

He sighed. “Then I go work on my brother’s farm in Oregon, I guess, and kiss this whole cooking thing good-bye.”

Mack put her hand under the water. But it was as though she could no longer feel it. He was kidding, right? This was some terrible joke designed to test her, to trick her into spilling her guts so he’d know how much she wanted him there. To make her be the one to say it first.

This couldn’t possibly be real.

“Oregon?” She tried to sound fine, but her throat was sandpaper, and the word hurt coming out.

He gathered her into the shower, his arms around her as the water poured down. “It’s not going to happen.”

She pressed her cheek to his chest. She couldn’t look at him when she said, “But this is your family we’re talking about.”

Connor pulled back so that he could look at her. “Which means they’re used to me not doing what they want. Are you worried? I’m not leaving. Mack, I promise. No matter what happens with the restaurant, I’m staying right here.”

She nodded, but her head was a puppet on a string, bobbing along because it was supposed to. Inside, she could feel a knot tightening in her chest. Connor had ambitions as a chef. He also had a family and obligations that extended beyond Gold Mountain and the restaurant. He’d walked into her life three years ago, and she’d been surprised when he hadn’t walked out. That didn’t mean he never would.

When he’d talked about the restaurant—their restaurant—under another chef, this was why. His parents were pushing him to make them proud. And he was pushing himself. If the restaurant succeeded, he’d be on to a better spot. If it didn’t, he’d move to Oregon and start over on his brother’s farm. Either way, he’d be gone.

But oh, the way he kissed her. It was hard to believe his words when he assured her he wanted to stay. A kiss couldn’t lie, though. And this wasn’t the touch of someone who wanted to be anywhere but here, with her, as the water pounded down.

Mack closed her eyes and let herself surrender. For a moment, she let herself believe that he was hers.

Mack could have predicted that showering together would mean they were scrambling to be dressed by the time the doorbell rang. Connor threw on jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, giving him a rugged look that turned her weak in the knees. She was far less presentable in sweatpants that were enormous on her even rolled up, but they were the only option she could cinch around her waist. Connor had made her come in the shower, sliding his fingers inside her and then over her clit as he pressed her against the tile wall, but he kept trying to undo the drawstring—especially once she let him sneak a peek at the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

She had crouched to her knees and let the steaming water pour over her as she sucked him off, his palms flat against the wall over her, bracing himself as she took him in. So she knew it wasn’t like he was going to be ready to come again in ten minutes. He’d guessed by the glint in her eye that she could, though. He had her pinned up against the wall and was busy unbuttoning the oversize shirt of his she had on when the doorbell rang.

“Later,” he mouthed before heading downstairs. “You’re mine.”

“Wait,” Mack called before he could open the door. Was he seriously going to let them in while she was still upstairs? In his bedroom? Wearing his clothes?

He looked at her in confusion and she bounded into the kitchen, where it would look like she was getting plates together. “Right,” he said. “Totally normal.” Which, at least he was catching on. But she could hear an edge in his voice, almost like he was disappointed. Shouldn’t they figure out what was going on between the two of them before getting the rest of the world involved?

But there wasn’t time to get into it—he was already opening the door. Mack plastered on a smile as Austin and Sam walked in. A nice, normal smile for her friends. Not the look of someone who’d been having sex all night. And morning. And for weeks before. With someone she’d purported not to like and was still figuring out if she could trust. Complicated? It was enough to make her head spin.

“Look at you.” Sam laughed as she brought a bowl of fruit salad into the kitchen and caught sight of Mack.

“I spilled coffee all over my clothes,” Mack said loudly, so Connor could hear. It wasn’t the best cover story, but it wasn’t the worst. “We threw everything in the laundry. It should come out okay.”

“I hope it wasn’t too hot,” Sam said in concern.

“It was fine.” Mack took the fruit salad as Connor pulled out serving tongs.

She’d hoped that would be the end of it, but then Austin came in. “Must have been quite a spill,” he said.

“Yup. The whole mug.”

“What on earth were you doing?” Sam wanted to know, and Mack began to think she should have worn her little black dress instead. They had to go through it all over again when Claire and Abbi showed up, both of them laughing at how funny she looked. Then Claire commented that Mack must have gotten an early start, because when she and Maya went for a walk that morning, her car wasn’t there.

“Yeah, I barely slept after Abbi and I got back from Bellingham. I kept thinking of more things we have to do.”

Connor had soaked thick slices of homemade bread in eggs, cream, and rum last night and stuck it in the oven while she was sleeping. It was her favorite kind of French toast, and she took another slice, wondering if her friends were always this goddamn chatty or whether she was just being paranoid.

“That sounds like good progress,” Sam said brightly. “And if this dish is any indication, it looks like the planning for the brunch menu is going well.”

“Oh, definitely.”

But somehow she had forgotten about the brunch menu and the fact that she was supposed to be making another set of cocktails to play to a midday weekend crowd. Funny how things had recently come up to distract her.

She waited for Connor to say something irritatingly chipper about how everything was fine—or else remark that it’d be going well if she could get her shit together and stop harping on the name.

In other words, the usual.

But he didn’t. In fact, he barely seemed to have heard what Sam said. He was looking right at Mack. But she didn’t know what his eyes were trying to say.

Later, when he was talking to Austin, she looked at him across the room, at his hair still messy from where she’d run her fingers through it after the shower, at the muscles in his forearms where he’d rolled up his shirt. At the way he carried himself, loose and comfortable as he leaned against the table, intent on the conversation.

She’d never thought to look at him like this, the way other people might when they weren’t up close to him so much of the time. He was a good listener. His brain bounced all over the place, trying new ideas. But that was because he was curious, interested, unwilling to stop. Was that such a bad thing?

“Mack.” Abbi smacked her in the arm. “You’re not even paying attention.”

“Sorry,” she said. “What?”

Abbi narrowed her eyes at her. “I was asking when you’re going to call Cute Adam. I’ve decided it’s a non-negotiable. You have to do it.”

Sitting next to Mack on the couch, Claire perked up immediately. “Who’s Cute Adam?”

“He’s no one,” Mack said, at the same time Abbi said, “He’s cute. Obviously.”

“Marginally,” Mack conceded. “But it’s not happening, so forget about it.” Her eyes scanned the room, looking for Connor. He’d moved to the kitchen to get coffee—thank God.

Abbi leaned conspiratorially toward Claire. “We met him at dinner last night. The friend he was with was a dud, but you should have seen the way he was looking at Mack.”

“And?” Claire asked.

“And Mack got his number. Like a champ.”

“So you’re calling him—right?”

Mack shook her head. “Abbi loves playing matchmaker, but trust me. This isn’t the one.”

“He doesn’t have to be the one,” Abbi scoffed. “Just the one for an hour or so.”

She winked, and Claire burst out laughing as Connor came up behind them with the coffeepot. “Refills, anyone?”

As he poured, Mack hoped with every cell in her body that he’d been too late, he hadn’t heard anything, he really was there for the coffee.

But then he said, “Who’s not the one?” If it were physically possible for a person to curl up into a ball and disappear, she wanted to discover that ability right about then, before the inevitable happened and Abbi said:

“This guy Mack met last night. He saved his name in her phone as Cute Adam, no last name. We’ve agreed Mack has to call him. Don’t you think?”

There was a pause. “If that’s what Mack wants,” he finally said.

Abbi raised an eyebrow at Mack as if to say, See, even Connor thinks you should go for it. How did her friends not hear how his voice was steel, how he spit out the words as though they were venom on his tongue? He was holding the coffeepot over her head and Mack was afraid he was going to spill it all over her—out of spite or simply because he couldn’t keep his hands still.

Abbi turned around on the couch so she was looking up at him. “Mack’s flirting game could use some work, though. Maybe you could give her some pointers. You obviously know how it’s done.”

“My game is doing fine,” Mack said hotly, standing up. “Is there more fruit?” she asked Connor. “I think I’ll get some.” She willed him to follow her into the kitchen, for Abbi to shut up, for anything to make this conversation over.

But he was glued to the spot, still gripping the coffeepot, his knuckles white. And Abbi was still talking.

“What was that you said last night, Mack?” she called.

“I really don’t think we need to—”

“Oh, come on,” Austin said, coming over with Sam to join the conversation. “Give us the good stuff.”

Abbi laughed. “Now I remember. It was something like, once a dog, you don’t learn to purr.”

“The purring was your line,” Mack said, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, watching the color drain from Connor’s face. She willed him to understand that that wasn’t what she’d said.

Or it was, but she hadn’t meant it. Not like that.

Not the way he was taking it now.

“Who’s the dog here?” Austin asked. “Connor?”

Abbi shrugged. “According to Mack, some people never change. So I’m placing bets on whether Connor’s ever going to meet the one. Mack says he’s incapable of love. I’m willing to be a little more generous, just because I’d hate for someone to say that about me.” She laughed. “Connor, you have anything to say in your defense?”

Mack had no idea what he said. She was too busy witnessing the exact moment when his insides split open and everything that had started to grow between them leaked out. It was like watching glass shatter in slow motion, seeing the disaster and knowing there was no way to stop it. Nothing she said, no way she tried to backtrack, could put together what had broken right in front of her.

But of course no one else noticed. Because no one else knew.

She’d been so afraid Connor was going to use her for a night or two and then announce he was done. But she’d been the one to get someone else’s number. She’d been the one to make this seem like nothing but some short-lived, meaningless fun. Even if that wasn’t how it felt.

Mack spent the rest of brunch in the kitchen. When Connor dropped off dishes, he kept up his conversation with Austin and left right away. It was just as it used to be between the two of them.

Only it felt as normal as a hole in her chest.

She was busy packing up leftovers when Claire asked if she wanted to come over while Maya was at a playdate. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever!”

“I’d love to,” she said, “but I, uh, I should probably stick around to check on my clothes.”

“That’s okay,” Connor said, coming into the kitchen. “I’ll bring them to you at work later and we can do an exchange.”

“But shouldn’t we finish working on the…” Her mind raced, trying to come up with a reason to stay when they’d never lingered one-on-one. “On the stuff for the restaurant?”

His jaw clenched. “I think we covered plenty this morning.”

Blood pounded in Mack’s ears. If she could stop him right here, make everyone leave, she could fix this. She’d explain she hadn’t meant it, and Abbi certainly wasn’t supposed to repeat it…

And he’d instantly forgive her for talking shit, for acting like he was nothing to her friends while at the same time she was on her way to spend the night with him? Right, like that was what would happen.

“I guess I’ll go then,” she murmured.

“Do you want that?” Claire pointed to the fruit she’d left out.

“You can take it. I’ve got to run.”

“I’ll come with you, give me a sec.”

But Mack was already out the door, half tripping in Connor’s sweatpants, the smell of him—laundry and coffee and cooking and Connorness—making her eyes smart as she fumbled for her keys.

She understood now why people got up and left. Some things broke in too many pieces to be fixed. Hearts, egos, friendships, jobs. The strange something she’d almost started to think of as love.

But it was too messy, too out of control to handle. She went home and headed straight to her bedroom to change. She couldn’t stand having his clothes on, the way it felt like he was still holding her.

It was even worse back in her jeans, though, knowing his touch was gone.