I’m Yours_Sweetbriar Cove_Book Four

by Melody Grace

  “It’s OK, I can take care of it,” Jake said.

  “Are you sure?”

  “What are errand boys for?” he asked.

  “Well, I’m thinking of a few more things now,” Mackenzie said flirtatiously, and was rewarded with a devious smile.

  “Keep thinking, sweetheart. There’ll be a quiz later.”

  He drew up outside the gallery and idled by the sidewalk. Mackenzie paused. “So . . .” she started, suddenly feeling awkward all over again. But Jake clearly didn’t have the same concerns, because he just leaned over and dropped a casual kiss on her lips.

  “I could come over tonight?” he suggested easily.

  Relief flooded through her. “Sounds good,” she said, matching his tone. “See you later.”

  She climbed out of the van and watched him drive away with a wave. As the van disappeared around the corner, she caught Hank, from the hardware store, on the corner. He raised his hand in a wave, then walked on.

  She cringed. If he’d seen them kissing . . .

  But no. Mackenzie straightened her shoulders, unlocking the gallery door. She was a grown woman now, an adult. If she wanted to make out with a man in broad daylight in the town square, then she would just go ahead and do it—to hell with the gossip.

  And if she wanted to take the rest of the day off work, leave the gallery closed, and go straight to the bakery for a cup of tea, an afternoon pastry, and some much-needed girl talk? Well, she would do exactly that.

  Mackenzie turned on her heel and set out along the winding roads that led just out of town. Summer’s bakery was set back from the road, surrounded by a thicket of blackberry bushes, and when she stepped through the door, Mackenzie was hit with a rush of warm, cinnamon-scented air.

  “Perfect timing!” Summer declared, looking up from behind the counter. “My afternoon shift just went home sick, and I have a whole batch of fruitcake that needs tasting.”

  “God, you’re a difficult friend.” Mackenzie grinned. “So demanding, you just take, and take, and take.”

  Summer laughed. She had her hair caught up in a messy braid, and an apron that declared #bakerboss over a bright red holiday sweater. She beckoned Mackenzie back towards the kitchen. “You say that now, but poor Grayson is sick of the stuff. I’ve been serving it to him for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

  Mackenzie followed her into the kitchen, then stopped. There was fruitcake on every surface. Round ones, square ones, cakes gleaming with fruit topping, and cakes drizzled with thick frosting. “Wow, OK, you really weren’t kidding.”

  “I told you!” Summer exclaimed, with a note of despair in her voice. “I just can’t get the recipe right. I had the most amazing slice once in France, it was like, life-changing cake, perfect for the holidays. But no matter what I try, I can’t get mine to taste the same.”

  “Well, I better get started then,” Mackenzie said, eyeing the nearest platter.

  Summer cut her a slice from three different cakes and put the teakettle on to boil. “So, what’s new with you?” she asked. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around the past couple of weeks. Things have been crazy here, getting the new winter menu up and approving all the photos for the cookbook.”

  “How’s that going?” Mackenzie asked, taking her first bite. “With your mom, I mean?”

  Summer gave her a look. “It’s . . . interesting. As always, when it comes to the great Eve Bloom. But she’s making an effort, I guess. She only suggested I change my hair and drop five pounds twice during the whole shoot.”

  “That’s progress for you,” Mackenzie joked. She pointed to the cake she’d just sampled. “This one is amazing. It’s got this spicy—”

  “Ginger,” Summer finished for her. “I used the sugared crystals, then grated some fresh for an extra kick.”

  “Well, whatever you did, it’s amazing. Although . . .” She sampled the next cake. “Ooh, this one has chocolate.”

  “See my problem?” Summer cried.

  “Yes, it’s a terrible problem,” Mackenzie agreed with a smile. “You’re such a talented baker, you’ve created too many amazing cakes!”

  Summer laughed. “OK, point taken.” She poured them some tea, then joined Mackenzie at the counter, hopping up on a stool. “So, your turn. How was Thanksgiving? Did you do anything fun?”

  Mackenzie stuck a forkful of cake in her mouth, and spoke through the crumbs. “I stayed in town. Jake and I had dinner, it was pretty casual.”

  “Oh?” Summer paused, her tea cup halfway to her lips. She searched, and Mackenzie couldn’t stop the smile creeping over her face. “Oh!” Summer’s eyes widened. “Details. Spill. Now!”

  Mackenzie flushed. But this is why she’d come looking for Summer, after all. She needed someone to talk to, to make her feel like it was really happening. “We, um, spent the night in the city,” she said, and Summer’s eyes got even wider.

  “And?” she demanded.

  “And . . .” Mackenzie gave a shrug. “A lady doesn’t kiss and tell.”

  Summer clapped her hands together in glee. “Finally! We were wondering when you two would ever get it together.”

  “Who was?”

  “Everyone!” Summer beamed. “This calls for celebration—wait, does it?” she checked, looking anxiously to Mackenzie.

  She nodded. “I think so. I mean, yes. It does.”

  “Perfect. Call the rest of the girls, and tell Eliza to bring the wine. I just mixed up some mulling spices. Plus, you know, I’m going to need some help eating all this cake!”

  * * *

  Three bottles of wine, two hours, and more cake than Mackenzie could count later, she finally pushed her plate away. “No more!” she protested when Eliza offered her another slice. “You’ll have to roll me home.”

  “Call it carb-loading,” Eliza answered with a grin. “You’re going to need your strength later.”

  Mackenzie flushed. “Don’t!”

  “Aww, come on!” Eliza protested. “Only one of us is banging a hot athlete. Let me live vicariously, at least.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mackenzie argued, still feeling her cheeks burn.

  “Fine.” Brooke smiled. “Making sweet, sweet love.”

  They all laughed. Summer had long since flipped the bakery sign to “closed,” and now the five of them were in the apartment upstairs, poring over the details of Mackenzie’s love life. A part of her felt guilty for gossiping, but the other part of her knew that without the bright laughter of her friends’ teasing, those whispers of uncertainty would be back.

  Besides, after years of bland dates not even worth a second thought, she finally had something worth talking about.

  “So has he said anything?” Poppy asked. “You know, about . . .”

  “The status of our relationship, and-or a declaration of his intentions and affection?” Mackenzie finished for her.

  “I was going to say, your future plans, but sure, that works too.” Poppy grinned.

  Mackenzie shook her head. “It wasn’t really the time for talking.”

  “I bet it wasn’t.” Eliza winked.

  “He was driving!”

  “Still possible.” She smiled.

  “Remind me to stay far away from you on the road,” Mackenzie laughed. “But to answer your question . . . no. We haven’t really talked at all about us. But that’s OK,” she added quickly, trying to reassure herself. “I mean, there’s plenty of time. We don’t have to rush anything.”

  “So he’s decided he’s staying in town? That’s great!” Poppy exclaimed.

  Mackenzie paused. “Well, no. We haven’t talked about that either. But he did move into Cooper’s rental. That has to be a good sign, right?” She looked around the table. They all nodded.

  “Absolutely.”

  “Plus, there’s nothing sexy about a man living in his parents’ basement,” Eliza added. “He’s putting down roots.”

  But for how long?

  Mackenzie knew deep down that he was only
back in Sweetbriar because of his injury. He was already itching to join his teammates again, so there was no doubt he’d be on a plane back to Miami the first chance he got.

  So where did that leave her?

  Her expression must have shown her doubts, because Poppy quickly gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “You don’t need to have the answers just yet. I mean, it’s barely been twenty-four hours since you guys got it together. Have some fun!”

  Mackenzie nodded. “You’re right. It’s way too early to be asking big questions.”

  Even if those big questions had been ten years in the making.

  She pushed her fears aside. For now, she had her friends, wine, and a hot pro footballer waiting to rock her world all over again that night. She was going to enjoy this moment; the future could wait.

  Her phone buzzed with a text and she fished it out of her bag to check.

  Pick you up at the gallery at 7?

  “Is it him?” Brooke asked. “I bet it’s him.”

  “No sexting at the table,” Summer warned her with a cheeky grin.

  Mackenzie laughed. “You guys have dirty minds. It’s nothing.” She read the screen. “Just arranging to meet later.”

  “For all that sweet, sweet loving,” Eliza finished her wine with a gulp. “It’s a good thing I’m working on a kickass cover profile right now, otherwise I might—might!—just be jealous. What about you, Poppy? How’s the new book coming?”

  Poppy groaned. “Terrible! It turns out being in a happy relationship is the worst thing for my writing.”

  They all laughed. “Seriously?” Summer asked.

  “I know, it’s weird, but I can’t bring myself to give my characters any emotional angst. It’s all just, ‘they met, they fell in love, they stayed happy with no major traumas or issues, the end.’ My editor is at her wit’s end.”

  “Aww, you’ll find something,” Brooke reassured her. “Tell Cooper to be a real jerk, just for this draft.”

  Poppy smiled. “He woke me up working with the power saw this morning. That helped. Until it turned out he was just building me a new desk.”

  “What an asshole,” Mackenzie teased.

  Summer let out a yawn. “OK, kids, I need to call it a night. I need to be up at four a.m. to start the bread.”

  “I’m so glad I never grew up wanting to be a baker,” Eliza noted, getting to her feet.

  “Much better to be the friend of the baker,” Mackenzie agreed.

  They helped clean and pack up the leftovers, then they all headed out. Mackenzie turned down offers of a ride and strolled the dark street back towards town, enjoying the brisk chill of the cold night air. Her stomach was already full of butterflies, just thinking about seeing Jake again.

  And kissing him.

  And . . . more.

  She took a deep breath, the air fogging as she exhaled. This was all unknown to her, not just having someone in her life who could make her feel this way, but the whirlwind of emotions that came along with it, too. She knew her friends were right, they didn’t need to rush anything, but still, Mackenzie couldn’t help feeling like she’d been waiting on this moment since high school, and now that it was within her grasp, she wanted to hold on tight and know for certain exactly what it meant. What Jake meant by any of it.

  Down, girl.

  She took another breath. There was no point trying to fool herself that this was any other guy—a man to play it casual with, and not place any expectations on the relationship—but she could keep from diving in over her head right away. Enjoy it. Savor the moment. Like the fact she was practically power-walking across town, just to see him again.

  Any man who could make her break a sweat was something special, for sure.

  Mackenzie was smiling by the time she reached the gallery. Then she saw that the lights were on, and the door was unlocked.

  “Hello?” Mackenzie paused on the threshold, feeling a flicker of fear. Had she left it open? “Is anyone there?”

  She took a step inside. Everything looked fine in the main room, but she heard a noise in the back, and froze.

  “Hello?”

  She held her breath, looking around for a weapon. She grabbed an umbrella that was resting by the desk, and tiptoed closer. “You should come out now!” she called. “I’m armed!”

  “Whoa, easy there.” Jake stepped out of the back, his hands raised in surrender.

  Mackenzie exhaled in a whoosh as she took in his broad frame. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, tapping him with the umbrella. “You nearly scared me half to death!”

  “Sorry. It was open when I got here, so I figured I’d wait inside.” Jake came closer and pulled her into a hug. “What did you think, that I was some rogue thief out to steal all your sugar bowls?”

  “It’s not funny,” Mackenzie said, even as she relaxed in his arms. “I could have hurt you.”

  “By protecting me from the rain?” he teased. She shoved him lightly, and he caught her closer, leaning in to capture her lips in a searing kiss.

  All thoughts of danger left her mind. Mackenzie melted into him, loving the feel of his body so solid against her, and the taste of him, still so brand new.

  Finally, he drew back. “Did you get much work done?” he asked.

  “Not exactly . . .” She smiled. “Summer needed help with her tasting, so it turned into a girls’ night.”

  “Any leftovers?” Jake looked hopeful, already eyeing her bag.

  “Maybe,” Mackenzie said. “Just let me close up here.”

  “I like the new stuff you’re working on,” Jake said, looking around. “Very festive.”

  “I know my market.” Mackenzie smiled. The tables were full of pottery waiting for another coat of glaze: berry-red dishware and plates ringed with tiny green holly leaves. “There’s a holiday craft fair up in Provincetown next weekend, I usually sell out.”

  “And those sculptures are cool,” Jake continued. “Weird, but cool.”

  Mackenzie froze. “What sculptures?” she asked, with her heart in her throat.

  “The ones in the studio,” Jake continued, still browsing. “You know, the weird curvy ones.”

  “You looked in my studio?” Mackenzie’s voice rose in panic. She pushed past him, rushing into the back. But it was too late. The drop cloths had been pulled down, revealing everything. The arc of the figures, the desperate yearning in their pose. Everything she’d been hiding, working on in secret all this time was suddenly standing right in front of them for him to see.

  What did he think of her now?

  She felt sick. “Jake!”

  “What?” Jake appeared behind her, looking confused.

  “I can’t believe you!” She scrambled to cover them again, but she knocked the first sculpture off balance, and it was only Jake’s quick hands that stopped it from tumbling to the ground.

  “Whoa!” he exclaimed, pushing it upright again. “I’ve got it.”

  “Leave it!” she insisted, finally managing to get the figures hidden again. “Please, just stop!”

  Jake stepped back, wary now. “What’s wrong?”

  “What’s wrong?” Mackenzie echoed, feeling painfully exposed. “You came back here, into my private studio, and looked through all my work!”

  “I’m sorry, I was just curious—”

  “So? Did you even think if I would be OK with it?” she demanded. “You could have damaged something!”

  “But I didn’t,” Jake said calmly.

  “That’s not the point!” She was horrified to feel tears stinging, hot in her throat. “This is my place, OK? You don’t poke around an artist’s work unless they invite you. The things here, there not finished, they’re not ready. I might never show them to anyone, and that’s my call.”

  “Hey, relax.” Jake tried to draw her closer, but Mackenzie flinched away. “I really am sorry, I didn’t know—about privacy, or the rules for someone’s studio. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m pretty much a novice when it comes to art
,” he added, with a calming smile.

  But Mackenzie was wound too tight to be soothed. She felt cut open, exposed, in the worst way possible. Her studio was her safe place, full of unfinished scraps and random musings, a controlled chaos from her mind onto the walls. Even then, she could have forgiven him for looking, if it wasn’t for those damn sculptures. She’d known from the start they were too abstract, too personal to ever see that light of day. That’s what Jake had said, wasn’t it?

  Weird.

  She’d always been the weird one—as a kid, in her hand-knitted sweaters, eating smelly hummus and doodling in the back of classes. She’d told herself the teasing didn’t bother her, but she’d always known exactly what they meant. She saw the world differently, in color and line and abstract form, and although she knew it was something to be proud of, not ashamed, it didn’t stop the sting.

  Now, she practically shoved Jake from the room, her cheeks burning. She would have preferred to march through the town square in her birthday suit rather than have him see those sculptures, but she didn’t get the choice. She was naked, and he didn’t understand.

  “Please, just go,” she said, swallowing back her tears.

  Jake frowned. “You’re really mad over this? I said I was sorry.”

  “And I said it was private.” Mackenzie turned away, making sure everything was locked before she strode to the front door. “Look, it’s been a long day. Let’s take a raincheck on hanging out tonight. I need to get some sleep.”

  “Oh.” She could hear the disappointment and confusion in his voice, but she didn’t want to look. One glance at Jake’s puppy-dog eyes, and she knew she’d crumble, and try to pretend that everything was OK.

  “See you tomorrow,” she said instead, and started walking away on the dark street.

  17

  Jake watched her leave, feeling totally bewildered. One minute they’d been talking—kissing—and the next, she was almost in tears. It wasn’t as if he’d broken anything, he’d been extra-careful not to touch. And sure, maybe he shouldn’t have gone poking around, but it was only because he was so curious to see what she was working on and get a glimpse of her creative life these days.