No one could declare a winner, but that didn’t stop my asshole brother and Joe from dumping an entire cooler of cold water over my head. My nieces and nephews pointed and laughed, so I chased the little shits around until Robin threatened to kick my ass if I got anything on them. I caught Kelly laughing about it too, so I picked her up and rubbed my freezing wetness all over her clothes. Rubbing up against her was pretty awesome, but making her squeal and wrinkle her nose was the real prize.
“I’m impressed, bro.” Mason rocked his shoulder into mine. It was the first time in a while that I’d seen him in the light of day. He looked old, and since he was only a few minutes older than I was, I wondered if I did, too. We weren’t identical, and that definitely showed in his hairline, which is why he was rarely seen in public without a hat. I decided to make my brother and his family more of a priority now that we didn’t see each other at work every day like we used to. “I figured you’d give up halfway through and call me for a ride.”
“I was tempted,” I murmured, glancing over at Kelly, who was chatting with Robin a few feet away. “When are we grillin’ next?”
“Name the day and bring the beer,” he replied.
“Next weekend. We’ll tailgate.”
“Hook ‘em, Horns!” He made the Longhorn symbol with his hand, and I smiled. We may not have gone to a four year university, but if we had, we’d have worn orange.
“Where’s Mac Junior?” Mason asked, glancing around. “I thought Patty was bringing him down.”
“Yeah, me too.” I mumbled, and my brother gave me his knowing look. People think we can communicate without talking, since we’re twins. The truth is, we just know each other well enough to make intuitive leaps that are right 99.9 percent of the time. My brother knew more about my sordid divorce than anyone else and knew about my growing concerns regarding my ex. Mason shook his head and tipped his cowboy hat back out of his eyes.
“That sucks, dude. You know the day is coming you’re gonna have to take her back to court, right?”
I cracked open my second bottle of Gatorade and chugged part of it. “I’ll burn that bridge when I have to, Mason. I want her to be in his life. That’s what’s best for M.J.”
“I know what you want. It’s good to want things.” Mason shrugged and took a sip of his Coke. “But reality’s reality, bro. What’s best for Mac Junior is stability.”
I knew he had a point, but I had to change the subject. Patty had put me through the legal ringer when we first divorced, and neither of us wanted to repeat that dance anytime soon. I tried to brush aside Mason’s comments and enjoy the rest of my evening, but my mind kept revisiting his words.
After we’d sampled some of Molly’s BBQ from her nearby food truck, Kelly and I realized that our cars were still at the starting line, and neither of us had the energy after gorging ourselves to retrace our steps.
“I”ll give y’all a ride,” Joe offered, and I could tell by the way he kept looking over at Molly (like a Chihuahua with its tail between its legs) that they were on the outs. As for Molly, she seemed to be ignoring Joe as if he were a Jehovah’s Witness pounding at her door.
“What about Short Shit? Don’t you need to wait for her?” I asked. Joe’s expression darkened, and had Kelly not been standing there, I would have pressed him to go have a beer with me.
“She drove separately…and she’ll be here long after I’m in bed.” The way he studied his steel-toed boots cinched it. There was something going on with them.
“But we’re sopping wet. We can’t get in there!” Kelly exclaimed when we arrived at Joe’s restored classic truck.
“We’ll ride in the back.” I explained.
“But isn’t that illegal?” she asked, looking all of twelve years old in her wide- eyed horror.
Joe and I chuckled, and I picked her up and deposited her in the back.
“Ah! Mac! Ooooo…look at the wood.” Kelly ran her hand over the gleaming wooden truck bed, polished to perfection.
“That’s what she said,” I quipped. Joe gave me a crooked smile, and shaking his head, he hopped in the driver’s seat. Kelly lay back in the bed, and my eyes widened.
“What are you doing?” I asked, wondering if I sounded as horny as I felt.
“Shhh…” She hushed me.
“Why are we whispering?” I whispered back loudly.
“I don’t want to get arrested for riding illegally.” She kicked at me with her tiny sneaker.
I lost it at that, laughing until my gut hurt.
“You’re not going to get arrested for that. Maybe a ticket…” I responded dismissively.
“I can’t get in trouble with the law. I’m a teacher, I have an example to set.” Her delivery was very goody-goody and such a contrast to the way she looked, laying before me, all sweaty in the clothes that fit her like a second skin. I have to admit, fantasies about her in the back of my truck popped into my head. I filed them away for a later date.
Joe barely waved goodbye as he dropped us off and then we were alone by her car.
“So about that date…” I started, determined to hammer out the details.
“What date?” Her face was blank, as if she were truly clueless about what I was referring to.
I advanced on her, and she took a step back against her car. “You know what date.”
“You didn’t win.” She smiled sweetly.
“I didn’t lose, either.”
“It’s not the same thing, and you know it.” She tossed her ponytail superiorly.
“If we go out, everyone wins.” I explained. “If we don’t, the terrorists win. Is that what you want, Kelly? Al Qaida to win?”
She bleated an embarrassed laugh. “You’re relentless!”
I shrugged, a cocky smile on my lips. “So relent already.”
She blew out a breath, and it looked for a moment as if she was puckering up for a kiss. “I think we’d make much better friends.”
I couldn’t stop myself. “Friends with benefits, then?”
“That depends. Who’s Mac Junior?” All signs of fun had vanished from her face. I hadn’t realized until that moment that she didn’t know I was a dad.
I squared my shoulders and looked her in the eye, needing to see every nuance of her reaction to the news. “He’s my seven-year-old son.
Her eyes flitted back and forth as I watched her process the information. She seemed to be waiting for more of an explanation.
“His mother and I have been divorced since he was a baby.” I added. “We share custody.”
Kelly nodded thoughtfully.
She moved forward, and I thought she might be coming in for a kiss. I closed my eyes, preparing for the impact of her lips, when I heard her car door open, and I realized she’d just been moving far enough away from her vehicle to open the door.
She started the car and rolled down her window, the impish smirk plastered on her face once more.
“I’ll see you later, Smack-talker.” She shouted over her blaring stereo.
As she drove away, she turned right out of the parking lot, and I noticed someone had keyed the word “bitch” into her car door.
MAC IN THE role of father was hard for me to wrap my brain around. Oddly, when he explained that he shared custody of his child, I found it made me like him even more. That was troubling…because I didn’t want my feelings for him mixed up with my daddy issues. Still, I considered his interest in his child a checkmark in the plus column. I told Jerry about this turn of events during our bimonthly mani/pedi. It served two purposes; we were always ready for open toed shoes, and we could talk about our personal lives which was practically impossible at work. The school secretary, Paula, was always eavesdropping on people and couldn’t keep her mouth shut about anything. Within the first week of my starting at Porter Elementary, she’d told me that the principal’s son was addicted to pain killers and that the music teacher was a lesbian and her two kids were “test tube babies without souls.”
When I opened up to Jerry abou
t Mac, she imparted more of the pop psychology wisdom that I’d come to expect from her.
“Men who are good with kids are straight up lady-porn.” She insisted. “Give me a man cradling a baby, and it’s better than oysters and Spanish Fly.”
“You know that’s right,” her manicurist nodded. Her straight black hair bounced as she worked on Jerry’s tiny feet.
“Kelly. Why are you fighting this so hard?” Jerry tucked her red hair behind her ear and fixed me with an interrogative gaze.
“Mac and I wouldn’t last a week,” I replied biting my lip to keep from laughing. I was so ticklish that I had to actively fight to keep from kicking the little Vietnamese man in the face as he exfoliated my heel.
“Oh yeah. He’s got none of the qualities you want in a man.” Jerry’s sarcasm was thicker than her newly applied polish. “He’s gorgeous. He hysterically funny. He looks at you like you’re a piece of strawberry cheesecake. And you talk about him all the time. Go out with him already.”
The thought of being alone with Mac was so overwhelming that I’d doubled my workouts to deal with the pent up frustration. We were still texting back and forth a little, sending each other jokes and memes a couple of times a week. Still, I’d decided to stay away from Good Wood (pun intended), at least for a while. I needed to do a little soul searching, to figure out exactly what the hell I was looking for and I couldn’t see Mac until I could explain my lingering resistance to myself.
I knew I came by my hang ups with men honestly. Since I was old enough to date, I’d sabotaged almost every relationship I’d had. From the moment I was officially “with” someone, I began the process of harvesting their hidden flaws, like a gardener tilling soil for a new crop, or an archaeologist sifting for buried clues to the past. I didn’t mean to be this way; in fact, I actively fought against it. I’d give myself pep talks as I prepped for dates, and I always went in with a smile on my face. Still, I’d ferret out inevitable deal breakers like some women search for the perfect pair of heels. Usually, I could find at least three reasons not to agree to a second date before our waitress brought the entrees.
I hadn’t always been so jaded. Once upon a time, I believed in fairytale endings. I dreamed of a big family, a house in the ‘burbs, and a dog to happily greet me at the door. I very much wanted to defy the odds. To do better than my parents had. To not only achieve the white picket fence, but actually keep it.
When it came to romance, I’d always been quick to cut and run. I had a tendency to move on before most guys even knew we had a problem. They weren’t smart enough, handsome enough; they were too boring or too irresponsible…you name it. This wasn’t something I was proud of, but it seemed I was powerless to change it. Abandonment can do that to a girl. If there’s anything more screwed up than a woman without a positive male role model, it’s one who had one and lost him. For years, I fought against being a cliché…a woman who bends and twists herself so that she molds to fit with the man of the day. I’d been conditioned that nothing lasts and that it hurts far more to have loved and lost than to not have loved at all. So I’m always the one to end things.
Even before I’d moved to Austin, I’d ruled Mac out as a potential boyfriend. He didn’t fit my mold at all. The truth of the matter was that no one really fit because it was a malformed, constantly evolving mold that had a tendency to leak. I’d pretty much decided I’d end up an old maid living in a condo with seventeen cats, and I was oddly okay with it. Sure, I missed sex (the good kind, at least), and sometimes cuddling when it was chilly outside or when I was watching a sappy movie. Otherwise, it didn’t bother me much.
Since returning to Texas, though, something in me had seriously changed. I couldn’t decide if it was the constant exposure to my father who still hadn’t bothered to explain himself or his fourteen-year vanishing act or Mac Hildebrandt, whose steamy overtures seemed to be picking at some aged scab I didn’t know I had.
He’d surprised me one Saturday, texting me that he needed to come over and borrow my car. I didn’t have any plans, so I said it wasn’t a problem. When he arrived, he looked particularly delicious in ripped jeans and a black sleeveless shirt. I caught myself roaming his tattooed arms with my eyes. On one side, he had a sexy cowgirl on the back of a Harley and on the other, he had a heart wrapped in barbed and razor wire. I’d seen the bottom of them peeking out of his sleeves before, but in full view they were well done and surprisingly attractive. I cleared my throat and stuffed my hands into my pockets.
“Why do you need my car?” I asked.
“Come along and find out,” he replied, gesturing to the door. I tried to read his expression, and in response, he just tilted his head, eyeing me expectantly.
“Alright,” I replied, slipping on my flip flops. The fact that it was nearly Halloween, and I was still able to wear open toed shoes was my favorite things about Texas so far. Well, it tied with the sight of Mac’s arms in that shirt, anyway.
“Mind if I drive since I know where we’re headed?” He asked. I shrugged and tossed him the keys. It was a gorgeous Autumn day, or at least what Texas calls Fall. It was just a hair too cool for swimming, and Austin only had three shades of foliage: orange, yellow, and lighter orange. Still, I’d give up the deep burgundies and bright reds for weather in the seventies and eighties any day.
With Mac driving, I was able to enjoy the scenery, a rare treat for me. Being single and new to the city, I was either watching the traffic around me or my GPS every time I climbed in my car.
We’d been on the road for several minutes when I realized neither of us had spoken. I turned to look at Mac and caught him looking at me.
“It’s a beautiful day,” I blurted, unable to ignore the way his eyes matched the sky behind him.
“Sure is.” He replied, and his eyes dropped to my mouth and lingered before he turned back to the road.
“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice sounding reedy and airy. Something about his presence in these close quarters made me feel fidgety and shy.
“Mason and Robin’s,” he responded.
“Oh.” I replied, studying his profile, baffled by how attractive he was.
His eyes shifted in my direction, and he turned his head toward me.
“What?” He asked, a tad self-consciously. I decided to have a little fun with him, since he was stonewalling me on the car business.
“You’re really cute,” I replied and watched as his face bloomed red. He said nothing, which for Mac was a small miracle. I kept watching him, enjoying the opportunity to observe him in a controlled setting. “What’s wrong?”
“Can you stop staring at me?” His husky voice dropped even deeper than usual. “I’m tryin’ to drive.”
“Why?” I blinked innocently, but a wicked smile crept onto my face. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
He turned those baby blues on me. “You’re makin’ my pants uncomfortable.”
It was my turn to blush.
Robin and Mac lived in a sprawling suburban brick home on a large corner lot. It had a three-car garage, and I could see Mason in the side yard, working at an electric grill. The backyard was surrounded with privacy fencing, and I recognized his kids riding up and down the streets on scooters.
“Hey!” Mason called, waving a spatula.
“Hey,” Mac called back and ushered me into the yard. Bones trotted up to me, and I knelt down to greet the old hound dog.
“Kelly!” Mason smiled, and I was struck by his similarities to Mac. They were both the same height, about six feet tall, and their features were spot on. Mason’s eyes were more hazel, and he had a few extra pounds on him, but their mannerisms were eerily similar. “How’ve you been?”
We caught up a little, Mason asking about my job and me asking about his family. Then the screen door slammed and Robin appeared, pulling a rolling cooler.
“Well, hello!” She cried, dropping the cooler handle and hurrying over to me for a friendly hug. “Mac, you didn’t say you were bringing
Kelly.”
“I’m full of surprises,” he drawled, and his eyes seemed to take in every inch of my face.
“Kelly, come on inside.” Robin insisted. “I’m working on the side dishes, and I need another set of hands.”
She led me into their lovely home, with its cream-colored walls, sand-colored tile, and vaulted stone fireplace. I complimented her light color pallet, and she laughed.
“It’s hell with kids. I buy Clorox Wipes by the crate.” I wandered for a couple of minutes, admiring the family photos, which included one of Mac, Mason, Joe, and Robin at Robin’s wedding. Mac and Mason had matching haircuts, and they looked nearly identical. They all looked so much younger it was unbelievable.
The rest of the house was just as nice. She’d framed a lot of the kids’ artwork, and she’d finished with decorative crosses and over the mantle, a barbed wire shaped into the state of Texas.
I returned to the kitchen, and as we plated the side dishes, I enjoyed chatting with Robin. She talked about her job in the ER (which she said she “loved to hate”) and where she got her hair done (her highlights were amazing and I was long overdue for a hair appointment). When we finally went outside with the rest of the food, I saw that the burgers were covered with foil and Mac and Mason were in the garage with my car.
“What…” I started, and then I saw that they were polishing my passenger door. Mason turned around and I realized they’d made the keyed vulgarity on my door vanish. “Oh!”
Mac waggled a little black bottle in his hand. “Good as new. This stuff works fast. But no touching; it has an hour or so to dry.”
My mouth fell open, and I turned to Robin, who gave me a lopsided grin. “They may be huge pains in the ass, but they come in handy sometimes.”
Mason bumped Mac’s shoulder. “You can owe me for the bottle. And a favor to be named later.”
Mac nodded with a derisive snort. Robin yelled for the kids, and we all loaded our plates. I asked Robin how they made the repair so fast, and she laughed.
“Oh, honey, they do stuff like that all the time. You can’t get a Hildebrandt to sit down for more than thirty minutes, unless there is a game on. They’re all hyperactive. Even Granny, and she’s going to be ninety in June.”
Wood U (Carved Hearts #4) Page 6