The thought annoyed me. I was only twenty-seven years old. Why didn’t I have a more interesting social life? Or at least somewhere to go on a Friday night? Valentine’s Day was coming up next week. The inn would be full of romantic couples, which normally made me happy, but I found myself dreading it. I stayed good and aggravated as I showered and got ready for work. As I made my way down to the restaurant, I noticed it was snowing again. For fuck’s sake, even snow reminded me of Mack now. Would winter never end?
I checked in with the floor manager at the restaurant and assumed my post at the hostess stand, trying not to frown at all the couples coming in for a romantic dinner. Evidently, I wasn’t doing a very good job at it, because after a while my mother hurried across the lobby from the reception desk with creases in her forehead.
“Frannie, would you mind taking that sour expression off your face? It’s very off-putting.”
“I don’t have a sour expression,” I snapped.
She folded her arms. “I can see it clear across the room. We want people to feel welcome when they come in. Look a little warmer, please.”
“Sorry.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “I’ll try.”
Suddenly her annoyance turned into concern. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m feeling fine,” I said through my teeth, plastering on a smile as a few guests approached. “And I have to seat these people, so excuse me.”
I made a better effort to be warm and welcoming after that, and I was doing okay until I heard Mack’s voice. Looking up from the stack of menus in front of me, I locked eyes with him as he and Henry DeSantis crossed the lobby. My heart beat faster as they approached.
“Hey, Frannie,” Henry said. “They’ve got you out here tonight, huh?”
“Yes.” I offered Henry a smile, tearing my gaze from Mack. “Working late tonight?”
“We were, but we just decided to knock off for the night and grab a drink at the bar.”
Mack spoke up. “I left a check for you at the desk, Frannie.”
My smile faded as I forced myself to meet his eyes again. “Thanks.”
“We’ll just grab a couple seats at the bar if that’s okay,” Henry said. “No need to seat us.”
“Okay.” I tried hard to sound cheerful. “Enjoy.”
They moved past me, and I caught a whiff of Mack’s scent—it nearly made my knees buckle. And he looked so good in that shade of blue. It matched his eyes. Why’d he have to be so handsome?
Several times over the next hour, I peeked into the bar area and spied on them. It wasn’t easy since they’d taken two seats at the far end of the bar, but twice I was able to make up an excuse to go into the kitchen. That meant I had to walk by them four times. The first time, I was careful to make no eye contact whatsoever. The second time, Mack happened to notice me, and our eyes met. Neither of us smiled. The third time, I noticed they’d decided to eat at the bar, and both had ordered steaks. The final time, Henry must have gone to the bathroom or something, because Mack was sitting by himself. He looked at me as I passed him, and I refused to make eye contact. Then he said my name.
I pretended like I hadn’t heard him and walked faster, my heels clacking on the wood floor. Next thing I knew, a hand was on my shoulder.
“Frannie,” he said again. “Stop a minute.”
I turned to face him, reluctantly meeting his eyes. “Yes?”
“Are you—I mean, how are you?” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Fine.” I crossed my arms. “Are the girls with their mom?”
He grimaced and shook his head. “She didn’t show.”
I gasped, although it didn’t surprise me. “She didn’t?”
“No, she texted me this morning to tell me she wasn’t coming because of the weather. She didn’t want to fly into a snowstorm.”
“Were the girls upset?”
“They didn’t even know she was coming. Well, Millie knew it was a possibility, but she’s getting to the point where she knows she can’t believe anything her mother says.”
“That’s tough.” I felt myself softening. “Poor Millie.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I felt so bad I picked them up from school and drove them all the way to my sister’s in Petoskey to hang out with their cousins. Then Jodie invited them to stay the night, so I came back here to get some work done because I’m so behind, but … I couldn’t concentrate.”
“Why not?”
He lowered his voice. “Because you’re upset with me.”
“No, I’m not,” I said, glancing around at the other patrons in the bar.
“Then why are you avoiding me? You’ve hardly said two words to me since Tuesday. Yesterday at the house you wouldn’t even look at me.”
I took a breath and squared my shoulders. “I’m not upset with you. I’m just trying to get over my stupid feelings. Talking to you doesn’t help.”
He nodded slowly. “Does that mean you don’t want to nanny for me anymore?”
“No.” I sighed, feeling embarrassed that I’d turned this into a thing that was making us both feel awkward. “I’ll be fine, Mack. Don’t worry about it. I should get back to work.”
“Okay.” He opened his mouth like he might say something else, and I could have thought of any number of things I wanted to hear. Don’t go. I’m sorry. I changed my mind.
But a second later, he closed it again, and I walked away.
What else could I do?
The inn’s dinner crowd was a pretty early one in the winter, so the floor manager let me go by nine-thirty. Mack and Henry still hadn’t come out of the bar, and I was glad I didn’t have to see him again before I left.
After finishing up the hostess’s side work, I said goodnight to my mom at reception, picked up Mack’s check, and went up to my suite. Tossing the check onto my dresser, I changed from my work clothes into flannel pajama pants, a giant gray sweatshirt with a sherpa-lined hood, and fuzzy socks. After throwing my hair into a sloppy bun on the top of my head, I went into the kitchen to warm up a bowl of the squash soup I’d made earlier. But I wasn’t very hungry and only ended up eating about half of it.
I was rinsing out the bowl when I heard a knock at my door.
That’s weird, I thought, checking my phone to see what time it was—after ten—and whether someone in my family had tried to get ahold of me. No one had.
My heart tripped a little faster as I made my way to the door, and I held my breath as I pulled it open.
Mack stood in the hall, his hands fisted at his sides, his expression tense. He was breathing hard, as if he’d just run up a steep flight of stairs.
Suddenly I was mad at him. How dare he show up here? He knew I was trying to avoid him. This just felt mean. “What do you want?” I asked, not bothering to disguise my anger.
“I want you to tell me to leave.” He spoke quietly, but firmly.
“Leave,” I told him, folding my arms over my chest.
Without another word, he rushed toward me and crushed his lips to mine.
Mack
Things happened fast.
I kicked the door shut with my heel. I backed her into the room. I tore at her clothes, and then my own, although I only succeeded in removing her hoodie and pants, and though I was shirtless, my jeans were still tight around my knees.
Didn’t matter. Within five minutes of arriving at her door, I was fucking her mercilessly on the living room carpet, driving my rock-hard cock into her soft, warm body again and again and again. It was almost like I was punishing her for refusing to let me be.
And she clearly wanted to punish me too.
She wrapped her legs around me and clawed at my back. She whispered my name against my lips and cried out with every deep, hard thrust. She moved beneath me, rocking her hips in tandem with mine, pulling me closer to her body until we were gasping and shuddering and clinging desperately to each other through a simultaneous orgasm so intense, I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, cou
ldn’t think.
It was obvious the other night hadn’t been a fluke—whatever this thing was between us was real. And powerful. And not going anywhere.
When I finally opened my eyes, I saw her face beneath mine. She turned her head to the side, giving me her profile, chin slightly raised. Then I realized she wasn’t holding on to me anymore.
Fuck. I was such an asshole.
I detached myself from her and sat back on my heels, head hanging low. “Jesus. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I could have stopped you.”
I wasn’t so sure about that. “Why didn’t you?”
She didn’t answer.
I leaned over her again, bracing myself above her shoulders. “Hey. Look at me.”
She didn’t, so I put two fingers beneath her chin and turned her head. Her lower lip trembled, and I had to kiss it.
“Stop,” she said softly.
A smile hooked up one side of my mouth. “Now you want me to stop?”
“Yes. You’re confusing me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m confused myself.”
“Why did you come up here, anyway?”
“Because I’ve been fucking miserable all week. Because that night with you was the best I’ve felt in years. Because it doesn’t matter why I should stay away from you—I can’t.”
“Don’t tease me. Do you really mean that?”
I nodded. “I got all the way out to the parking lot tonight. I got in my car. I turned the fucking engine on, and I sat there, getting more and more furious with myself that I couldn’t go.”
“Really?”
“Really. Finally I gave in. But I knew it wasn’t fair after what I’d said, so I promised myself that if you told me to leave, I would.”
She looked amused. “I did tell you to leave.”
“Uh, yeah.” I cleared my throat. “Clearly that was a promise I should not have made.”
“It’s okay.” Her hands swept up and down my back, her touch sending warm shivers across my skin. “I want to be with you.”
“I want to be with you too.” I brushed some hair back from her forehead that had come loose from the knot on top of her head. “But I’m not going to be able to make any promises, Frannie. I meant what I said—I’ve got nothing to offer you.”
“That’s not true,” she said with that irresistibly stubborn tilt of her chin.
“You say that now, but just wait. My life is complete chaos. Most days I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread.”
“You don’t need to worry about me, Mack. I don’t want to be another responsibility in your life. And I don’t need promises or labels.” She took a breath. “I just want to feel like I’m somebody to you.”
I smiled down at her. “You are. But we’ll have to be careful. I don’t want the kids to—” Suddenly I realized something—we hadn’t been careful tonight. I panicked, backing off from her again. “Oh, shit, Frannie. I didn’t even think. I—”
She silenced me with one hand. “No worries. I’m on the pill, and I’m very, very good about taking it.”
I relaxed a little. “Okay. Whew. That’s good.” The last thing I needed was another baby right now. Or ever.
“Give me a few minutes, okay?” she asked, getting to her feet. “If you want a drink or anything, help yourself. I don’t have any beer, but I’ve got wine, whiskey, vodka, tequila …”
I raised my brow. “Should I be worried about you?”
Laughing, she gathered her clothing and headed for her room. “No. I’m not a huge drinker, but I do like a little whiskey by the fire now and then.”
“Whiskey by the fire it is.” I looked around and noticed the fireplace at the far end of the room. Scooping up my clothing, I threw on my underwear, jeans, and shirt and wandered into the kitchen.
By the time Frannie came out of her bedroom, dressed the same way she had been before but with her hair loose around her shoulders, I’d poured two glasses of whiskey and lit the gas fireplace, which lacked the romance of real wood in my opinion, but it warmed the room.
She smiled as she joined me on the couch, tucking her legs beneath her. “This is nice.”
I took her glass from the little coffee table and handed it to her. “It is. Much nicer than what I was heading home to, which was an empty house.”
She took a sip of her whiskey. “So the girls are with your sister?”
“Yeah. Jodie. She’s got a daughter a year older than Millie and a son Felicity’s age. They all get along really well. I wish they lived closer.”
“I wish Sylvia lived closer too. I hardly know my nieces and nephew.” She smiled sadly.
“How is Sylvia? I haven’t spoken to her in a while.”
“Good, I guess. I don’t talk to her much, either.” Frannie tipped up her glass again, then stared into it. “That’s something I’d like to change, though. I should reach out to her. Are you close to your sister?”
I nodded. “Pretty close. I mean, we’re both busy with kids and jobs, but we were tight growing up. She’s only seventeen months older than me. And she’s married to a great guy. They make it look easy.”
She looked up at me, her expression curious. “Can I ask what happened with your marriage, or is it too personal?”
I exhaled and tossed back some more whiskey. “My marriage was tough from the start. Carla got pregnant with Millie right before I was set to deploy, and we got married fast before I left. We’d only known each other for a few months.”
“Marines, right?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“What made you join?”
“I was kinda lost for a while in my early twenties, didn’t really know what I wanted to do yet. I’d dropped out of college because I was too immature to handle the responsibility and my parents told me they weren’t going to pay for me to fuck around anymore.” I took another drink. “I needed to burn off some energy and I wanted to get out of here. One day I decided being a Marine sounded kind of badass. So I signed up.”
“And you were in Afghanistan?”
I nodded. “Twice. And I was in Iraq too. So I was gone a lot during the early years of our marriage, while the older two girls were little. That didn’t help. Then, when I got out, I wanted to move back up here where I’d grown up, and she wanted to move to Georgia, where she was from. She said she’d agree to come here if I agreed to have another baby. So we did both.” I paused to take a drink. “But it didn’t matter where we lived. We never really made each other happy. Eventually resentment set in.”
“Resentment over what?” She took another small sip.
“Oh God, you name it. She resented feeling like I’d married her out of a sense of duty more than anything else. She resented being left alone with kids while I was deployed. Then when I came home and struggled to readjust to civilian life, she resented me for not bouncing back faster. She also felt abandoned again because I worked during the day, managing a hardware store, and went to classes at night so I could finish my degree.”
Frannie nodded slowly and took another sip. “How’d you end up at Cloverleigh? Did Sylvia get you the job here?”
“Yeah. I’d finished my degree and was looking for a better job, and I ran into her one day when she was home. She introduced me to your dad.”
“Did things get better once you had a good job?”
“Not really. We fought all the time, and when we weren’t fighting, there was a lot of angry silence.”
“That must have been awful.”
“It was.” I frowned. “I tried to make it work, I really did—especially for the kids’ sake. But nothing I did or said was right, and I got tired of being the bad guy. Eventually I stopped trying, and she ran off with someone else.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “Don’t be, not for me, anyway. It’s not like Carla and I had some great love affair. But our kids deserved better. I feel horrible every day that I failed them.”
“You didn’t fail them, Mack.” Sh
e put a hand on my leg. “Sometimes marriages don’t work out. It wasn’t your fault.”
I’d heard the same from my sister, from Woods, from my parents … but I couldn’t convince myself of it. Rationally I knew it wasn’t fair for Carla to blame me for the divorce, but her words had a way of eating at me deep down. Maybe I hadn’t loved her the way I was supposed to. Maybe I didn’t know how.
Frannie swirled the amber liquid in her glass. “The girls don’t talk about their mother much.”
I shook my head. “Not anymore. They missed her a lot at first, but since she’s only seen them a couple times since, the separation anxiety has eased. I’m sure somewhere in each of them is a gaping wound and a permanent fear of abandonment, but day to day they seem okay.”
“That’s a credit to you,” Frannie said.
“And their therapist.” I threw back some more whiskey. “I’ll be paying those bills for years to come. Millie’s been asking some tough questions lately, wondering if her mother even loves her.”
Frannie gasped. “What did you say?”
“I said yes, and I think that’s the truth, but fuck if I know what’s in Carla’s head.” I took another big swallow and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, Frannie. I didn’t mean to unload all that on you.”
“Hey,” she insisted, putting a hand on my leg again. “I want you to unload on me. You can tell me anything.”
I smiled at her. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was a mess, and some of her eye makeup from earlier was smudged under her eyes, but it didn’t matter. She still made my heart beat faster. And the way she was sitting there so patiently while I dumped out all my emotional garbage, the way she gave me all of her attention and said all the right things … it made me feel validated and understood in a way I hadn’t in a long, long time. I did feel like I could tell her anything.
But I’d had enough talking.
“Thanks,” I said. “But you know what? Nights like this are going to be few and far between, possibly nonexistent, and I don’t want to waste any more of it complaining about my ex. Tell me about you.”
Irresistible: Cloverleigh Farms Standalone Page 11