by Amy Knupp
Chapter Ten
The absolute worst person who could walk through Drake’s door right now?
Ezra.
Without a question.
Worse, even, than Drake’s mom.
“Hey,” Drake said, trying like hell to sound pleasantly surprised to see his friend instead of guilty like a thief in a church service. He eased the guest bedroom door closed behind him to protect Mackenzie as he stepped fully into the hall, wishing he’d had time to grab his shirt. “What are you doing here?”
Why in the name of all things holy had he ever thought it was a good idea to give Ez a key so he could let himself in whenever he was in town?
“I just got in from Australia,” Ezra said. He wore a suit, minus the tie. He rolled a compact suitcase behind him and had a leather messenger bag on his shoulder. “I thought I’d crash on your couch and surprise my sister in the morning.” His eyes narrowed. “Wait. Where is my sister?”
“How about a drink? I bet you’re exhausted.” Instead of leading Ez to the kitchen, Drake stood firmly in front of Mackenzie’s door.
“Drake, I said where’s Mackenzie?” Ezra’s voice was low and threatening. Drake sized him up in the dim hallway, searching for a sign of weakness even though he knew he wouldn’t find one. Ezra had a rep for choosing hotels all over the world for their twenty-four-hour fitness centers so that he could work out in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, which was always.
“Come on,” Drake said. “Let’s go to the kitchen. Are you hungry?” It was damn hard to do, but Drake moved in that direction, leaving Mackenzie’s door vulnerable. If he continued to stand guard, though, it just made them look guilty.
As if there was any question what had been happening five minutes ago. Five damn minutes.
Drake stopped when Ezra didn’t follow him.
“What the hell is going on?” Ezra demanded.
The bedroom door opened, and Mackenzie stood there, fully dressed in the jeans she’d been wearing earlier and a wrinkled gray T-shirt. Her hair was a mess, as if she’d been thoroughly…yeah. Five damn minutes ago. “Ezra!” She threw her arms around her brother. “What a happy surprise.” Her joy was real, Drake could tell, even if she was pouring it on a little thick.
Ezra accepted her hug stiffly. “What…the…fuck, Drake?” Rage came through in each evenly measured word. Loud and clear. “Tell me you didn’t do what it looks like you did.”
Mackenzie ended the hug. “It’s not your business, Ez. I’m an adult. I make my own decisions.”
Ezra set her aside, closed the space between him and Drake, and punched him, all in a single move, and even though Drake was expecting it, the blow to his jaw hurt like a son of a bitch. He stepped back, holding his cheek, but he didn’t retaliate. He would do the same if he had a sister.
“Ezra!” Mackenzie yelled. “What are you doing?”
“What are you doing?” Ezra yelled back, sparing her a confused look and then returning a death glare to Drake. He advanced another step, and Mackenzie jumped between Ez and Drake, as if Drake needed—or deserved—a protector.
“Ezra, cut it out!” She pushed her hands into his chest, futilely trying to stop him, and lucky for Ezra, he stopped himself. “I am a grown woman,” she said. “This doesn’t involve you.”
“The hell it doesn’t.” Ezra’s voice was low and measured. “You slept with my sister,” he said to Drake. “When you said you’d take care of her, I didn’t know that’s what you had in mind.”
“Dammit!” Mackenzie said, slapping her brother’s arm ineffectively. “Butt out.”
Drake couldn’t stand the way his friend looked at him in that moment, particularly because he had every right to. “I didn’t have anything in mind, man. I made a mistake.”
At the word mistake, Mackenzie whipped her head toward Drake, her mouth open and hurt radiating from her eyes, and he instantly realized how that must sound to her. Shit. But he also knew, now that they were both dressed and not touching each other, he’d been weak. He’d made the wrong decision. What his body wanted hadn’t mattered.
He hastily told her, “That’s not about you, Mackenzie—”
“Go to hell,” she said, the look in her eyes, of so much hurt and disappointment, gutting Drake. Hurting her was the last thing he ever wanted to do. “Both of you. Beat the crap out of each other. I don’t care.” She swung an angry look back at her brother, then turned on her heel and stomped back into the guest room.
“Way to go, jackass,” Ezra said. “That’s exactly why you were never supposed to touch her. How dare you fucking hurt her like that.” He pivoted and followed Mackenzie into the bedroom, and Drake heard him ask her if she was okay.
Mackenzie’s vulgar response was short and not at all sweet and impossible to misunderstand, for Drake as well as the rest of the people who lived in his high-rise building.
With his stomach knotted, Drake turned and went into the kitchen for that drink he now needed like he had never needed a drink before. As Ezra tried to reason with her in the other room, Drake took down a cocktail glass and the whiskey and poured it till the glass was three-quarters full. He swigged a mouthful of it and closed his eyes as the liquor burned all the way down his throat and into his belly.
He couldn’t have fucked up things any worse if he’d tried.
“Get out of here!” Mackenzie yelled at her brother.
“I’m not the bad guy here, Mackenzie—”
“Go!” she yelled.
Drake took another gulp and closed his eyes, wishing the whiskey would burn up the regret that was drowning him.
Ezra came storming out of the bedroom, gunning for him, and Drake put a hand out to stop him.
“You got your hit in,” Drake said, still holding the glass in his other hand. “You try it again and I won’t just stand here.” He set the drink down hard on the island and straightened, just in case. He almost hoped Ezra would take another swing, because it would feel damn good to punch back.
Ezra turned away and grasped the counter on the island with both hands, as if trying to get control of his anger. He shook his head, jaw locked tight, visibly working to calm himself down. Drake had rarely seen him this out-of-control pissed off. Ez didn’t often explode in anger.
Drake leaned against the opposite counter, his gaze zeroed in on the floor. The only sounds were coming from the guest room, where Mackenzie was… He wasn’t sure what she was doing, but it wasn’t quiet and it wasn’t calm. He needed to apologize to her, but not while Ezra was here.
Without facing him, Ezra asked, in a deceivingly calm voice, “What were you thinking?”
Drake let out a scoff at himself. “I wasn’t thinking,” he said quietly. An image of Mackenzie flashed in his mind, that moment she’d stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, softly, awkwardly, and his body had lit on fire. Thinking was the last thing he’d been doing; in fact, she’d looked so irresistible in that instant, so vulnerable and sexy at once, that he was pretty sure his brain had short-circuited and he’d been operating on sheer physical instinct, the kind that ensured the species was carried on.
He shut down the memory, swearing up a blue streak to himself.
“You never think,” Ezra said, louder now, less calm, facing him and pointing a finger at him. “It’s all about the moment for you and you never consider the aftermath.”
“I said I messed up,” Drake said, his volume rising to meet Ezra’s.
“Fuck yes you did,” Ezra said. “How are you going to unfuck this, Drake? Answer: you’re not. This time your charm and good looks aren’t going to help a damn thing. You. Hurt. My. Sister.”
“That was never my intention,” Drake bit out. He picked up his glass and swigged down half of what remained.
“Mackenzie deserves someone who cares about her, who treats her like a queen, who doesn’t take advantage of her just because she’s across the hall and convenient, and who doesn’t tell her she’s a damn mistake.”
“She
does deserve the best,” Drake agreed, “and we both know that’s not me, but I did not take advantage of her, nor did I see her as ‘convenient.’”
“Bullshit.”
Drake wasn’t about to point out that Mackenzie had initiated sex or that she’d said she didn’t want a commitment. None of that was Ezra’s business. But… “The mistake comment… I regret that. But that’s between her and me.” He slammed the nearly empty whiskey glass down hard. He lowered his voice a few decibels, fighting to keep his cool. “The only thing that concerns you is that I broke your trust, and for that, I apologize.”
Before Ezra could respond, the apartment door slammed, and Drake realized it must be Mackenzie.
“What’s she doing?” he said, taking a step toward the hall.
Ezra intercepted his path. “Leaving. She was throwing all her shit in her suitcases as she ranted at me.”
“Where the hell is she going?”
“How would I know? She wasn’t in a sharing mood, thanks to you and your dumb-ass move.”
“Shit,” Drake muttered, not trying to get around his friend even though he didn’t want Mackenzie to leave. They had things they needed to discuss—fully clothed and preferably with a table in between them. On some level, he recognized that she might need to calm down before they could have that discussion.
“You need to leave now,” Drake said. “I’ve apologized. I’ll do my best to make things right with Mackenzie—”
“Stay the hell away from her,” Ezra roared. “For the love of God, leave my sister alone.” He stared Drake down, breathing hard with anger, then stormed back down the hall, grabbed his luggage, and went out the way he’d come in, slamming the door behind him just like his sister had.
“Later, dude,” Drake said to the empty room as he lifted his glass in mock salute. It was a good thing Ezra hadn’t waited for him to agree to leaving her alone, because like it or not, he and Mackenzie had unfinished business.
Chapter Eleven
The next morning, Mackenzie exited the Wentworth Hotel and pulled her jacket tighter around herself to fend off the brisk late-March wind. The hotel was perched at the opposite end of Hale Street from Clayborne’s, and she took in the lively neighborhood from this new perspective as she walked down the curved driveway.
She wasn’t completely calmed down after the dramatic shit storm that had been last night, but a few hours of deep sleep on a lush bed in a quiet, upscale hotel room and the bright morning sunshine were helping. Carbs and coffee were the next steps in clearing her mind and gearing up to have a productive day. She scoped out the nearby breakfast options.
The concierge had recommended Frank’s Diner for a hot meal or Sugar Babies for pastries and muffins, after getting a pitch in for the hotel’s own restaurant. There was really no decision—anything with sugar in the name drew her in like a homing pigeon to its nest. The bakery was at the far end, on the left side. As Mackenzie headed that way, she took her time, window-shopping the dresses in the Pincushions window, the home furnishings at Henry Interiors, and the mosaic artwork at World in Pieces. The stores weren’t open yet, but she’d make a point of exploring them later, maybe over lunch, after she checked out of the over-her-budget Wentworth.
She pushed open the door to Sugar Babies and inhaled the sweet scent of fresh-baked vanilla and cinnamon. The place was adorable and bustling even though it wasn’t quite seven thirty a.m., with several people sitting at the small cafe tables scattered in the front and three in line at the shell-pink old-fashioned display case. The case was stuffed full of exquisite colorful desserts and pastries, and on top were antique-looking display platters overflowing with cinnamon rolls and muffins in a variety of flavors. Whereas Carlotta’s, in Drake’s building, was a coffeeshop that offered a few treats, this place was all about the sweets, and Mackenzie wondered if she could make it her permanent address.
A few minutes later, after saying hello to Sierra’s sister, Kennedy, and being introduced to Violet, who was another of the owners and was working the counter, Mackenzie took her oversized triple berry muffin—and a coffee from the connected bookstore—to a place near the window. As she settled in and held her coffee cup below her nose, breathing in the invigorating aroma and waiting for it to cool enough to sip, Sierra herself walked through the door, with Cole at her side.
Mackenzie waved, and Sierra’s face lit up as she said something to Cole, then made her way toward her through the maze of tables. Cole joined the line, sending Mackenzie a nod.
“Hey, you,” Sierra said as Mackenzie stood and they hugged. “What are you doing here?” She lowered her volume when she said, “You’re supposed to be curled up in bed with a certain North brother.”
Mackenzie blew a breath out and forced a smile. “Yeah. That. Do you have a minute to sit?”
In response, Sierra lowered herself to a chair and leaned in, her eyes wide. “What happened? Did the mission fail?”
Mackenzie sat again and pulled off a chunk of muffin. “No,” she said, glancing around to ensure no one was paying them any attention. “The girl got the guy in the strictest sense possible, but then it all blew up, literally within minutes.” She explained in partial detail her brother’s entrance, the fight, and what Drake had said to defend himself. I made a mistake.
“A mistake?” Sierra repeated, enunciating the word as if in disbelief.
“Direct quote,” Mackenzie said. “I can’t decide who I’m more pissed at—him or my brother.”
Sierra leaned back in her chair, seeming to ponder the tale, and her eyes narrowed. “Drake doesn’t usually do that—say the wrong thing. In fact, he always seems to say the right thing, the most charming thing possible.”
“I guess things change once he gets the girl into his bed. Or the girl gets him into his guest bed. Whatever.”
“I want to hit him.”
“Be sure to get video, because I want to watch,” Mackenzie said, biting down on another piece of muffin and then calming herself slightly by savoring the perfect blend of fluffy muffin and sugar-sweet bits of berry.
“So he said that, and then what happened? Did he apologize? Kick your brother out?”
“I don’t know. I packed my stuff and left while they were yelling at each other.” She’d had to leave a suitcase there in order to get out in a single emphatic trip, but she’d stuffed the most important things in the two she’d taken.
“Brothers can be so annoying, thinking they have any say in our lives.”
“Particularly our sex lives,” Mackenzie said. “The idiot. I’m the one who came on to Drake.”
“So where did you go when you left?”
“I found a last-minute deal for the Wentworth on a travel app. It was more than the chain hotels, but not by much, so I figured I deserved some historical Nashville luxury to lick my wounds. Just for one night. I’ll find something more reasonable to move to later today.”
“You should’ve texted me,” Sierra said. “My couch is super comfy and you’re welcome to it.”
“It looks like you were probably busy.” Mackenzie shot a raised-brow smirk in Cole’s direction, who was almost to the front of the line now. “If I’d known he was waiting for you last night, I wouldn’t have kept you out so long.”
Sierra waved the comment off. “It was no big deal.” She leaned closer, grinning widely. “We decided to move in together. We’re going to start looking for a house this weekend.”
“That’s exciting,” Mackenzie said, a little piece of her green with envy at the prospect of a home.
“We’ve been staying at my place a lot because we love the neighborhood, but he has a cat we need to take care of, so it was either unsettle the grouchy cat twice with two moves or just buy a house.”
“That makes sense. I’m in love with this street though.”
“I do love my apartment,” Sierra said. “The only thing that could get me to move is Cole. Maybe you should check it out. I know there’s an available unit a few doors down from here.
And mine is coming soon.”
“My place is supposed to be ready on Sunday.” She’d told Sierra the crazy story about the Buick last night at the bar. “Hale Street is tempting, but I just need to make it a few months in an apartment while I organize and house hunt.”
“Short-term sacrifice,” Sierra said. “And maybe you can do it even sooner than you plan. Everything can change so fast. A few months ago, Cole was just my employee. If you’d told me I’d be engaged to him and buying a house, I would’ve laughed in your face.”
“Have you set a date yet?”
“We’re working on it.”
“Working on what?” Cole asked as he set a steaming cup of coffee in front of his fiancée. In his other hand was a turquoise box that likely held a dozen or more treats and a smaller one on top that was the size of a single muffin.
“My hero,” Sierra said, picking up the cup and scooting her chair back as if preparing to stand. “A wedding date.”
Cole’s lips eased into a smile. “By we, she means her and Kennedy and Hayden. Three-woman wedding-planning typhoon.”
“It’s a lot of logistics planning around the show,” Sierra rationalized.
As Sierra stood, Mackenzie asked, “Off to work?”
Sierra nodded and pointed to the large box. “Fuel for my crew and the production people.”
Mackenzie rose, came around the tiny table, and hugged her new friend again. “I’m so glad we ran into each other.”
“Same,” Sierra said into her hair. As the hug ended, she added, “If you need a place to stay, let me know. You could even stay in my apartment and Cole and I can go to his place.”
“I thought you were staying with Drake,” Cole said.
“I didn’t want to wear out my welcome,” Mackenzie said offhandedly. She felt her phone vibrate in her pocket but ignored it. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d feel awful kicking you guys out. And I really need a place to office as well, so a hotel will be good for the last couple of days until my apartment is ready.”