There was one last thing that had been keeping them apart; it was tickling at the back of Mac’s consciousness, trying to break surface. But that was wiped from her brain the moment Rick slid his hands inside the back of her camisole, holding her shoulders, the front of her shirt moving up a few inches. Mac’s core coiled like a spring as Rick’s mouth moved to her cheek then to her chin, then his kisses went trailing down her neck, pausing at her collarbone. He nuzzled and whispered her name. She held the back of his head as he continued down, his hands holding her hips, his mouth resting on her stomach. She bent her knees, curling around him, her coiled core waiting to spring free.
She was so glad she’d taken the time to shave in the shower, glad she’d heeded Brandy’s advice…
Brandy.
Oh, no.
Mac felt ice flood her veins as that other reason came back to her; the last thing keeping them apart. Hadn’t it been just a few hours ago that Brandy had called and confided in Mac that she thought she was falling for Rick? Mac couldn’t hurt her like this, not her own cousin.
Before anything happened with Rick, she had to talk to Brandy.
Rick lifted his head, obviously sensing when Mac’s body went from crouching Bengal tiger to limp slug. “Mac,” he whispered. He looked confused but not detoured. The front of his hair was rumpled from her fingers.
Mac was staring at him, at the face she would picture every time she closed her eyes.
“Are you okay?” He sat up halfway.
“I…” She couldn’t manage to form a complete sentence.
When he leaned in, his beautiful lips heading her way, she held up a hand.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t worry, I’ve got—”
“I can’t,” she whispered, but it was mostly air. “Brandy…”
Rick’s eyebrows bent. “What?”
She shut her eyes, and with every ounce of strength, she pulled down her shirt, took Rick’s hand, and slid it off her body.
…
He’d obviously misunderstood her. It was natural, of course. Right then, he couldn’t even remember his own name. His heart was pounding so hard and his body was calling out to hers in a way he’d never felt before. Was it any wonder he was no longer able to understand plain English?
He looked at his hand that she was holding. She had opened her eyes again and was looking at it, too. He leaned in, turned her hand over and kissed its palm, curling his fingers around hers. He kissed her wrist on his way to the crook of her elbow, breathing her in along the way, taking his time. Even though fire was raging through his body, he felt like he had all the time in the world.
When he kissed her neck, he felt her body shift, kind of like she was trying to wiggle out from under him. She had such a huge, spectacularly gregarious personality that he sometimes forgot how small she was, physically. He rolled to the side, just as content to pull her on top. But the second she was free of his weight, she put a hand on his shoulder, halting his forward motion.
“Rick.”
When she said his name, he heard a hitch behind it. Not in the breathless way he’d expected, but in the dejected way.
“What’s wrong?” he managed to say.
When she only sighed, Rick collapsed on his back. He heard her panting beside him, matching his own heavy breathing. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to think outside this moment. Less than a minute later, he felt Mac roll over, her body lightly touching his side.
“We just…we can’t,” she whispered, still panting. “Brandy…tomorrow…it will be okay.” But Rick barely heard her over the pulse pounding behind his ears like a marching band of Sumo wrestlers.
He gave her arm a gentle pat, but he wasn’t in any position to understand her words. All that talk of their advanced platonic relationship and Mac setting him up with someone else—that was utter crap. He wanted to be with her and only her. After she’d told him about being hurt from her past relationship and about what had happened with her father, Rick understood her previous hesitation. But what was stopping her now?
He felt her lips touch his shoulder and her fingers wrap around his. “Tomorrow,” she whispered against him. “Brandy…”
His body tensed at the name. What was going on?
He sat up and stared across the room. Through the tall windows, he could see the porch light of the house across the valley. When Mac made a sound, he looked at her. Her light hair was splayed across the pillow like a snow angel. Every beat of his heart was a crippling ache.
“Are you stopping,” he whispered down to her, “because of Brandy?”
“She’ll be here tomorrow,” Mac said. “She has to know about this.”
Rick shook his head. He couldn’t believe it. Mac had climbed with him all this way…to the very edge…but she was still pushing him toward someone else.
“Are you okay?” she asked. She was still holding his hand in both of hers. He slid it out and ran his fingers through his hair, needing a reason to be free of her touch.
“I’m fine,” he said, his fist running over his mouth. He knew the frustration in his voice was audible.
“Are you sure?”
When she sat up and touched his arm, he moved back.
“I said I’m fine.” He rested an elbow on his bent knee. “You should probably go to your room now.”
He didn’t have to turn his head to know she was staring at him in the darkness. But he didn’t look her way. He knew if he did—that if he reminded himself that she was still in his bed, looking sexy and disheveled from his kisses—he would not be responsible for his actions.
A moment later, she seemed to catch his vibe when she slid her legs off the bed. He heard her bare feet hit the hardwood floor. The bed barely moved from her weight when she stood up.
He continued staring out the window.
“Rick?” she said.
He swallowed. “Yeah?”
“I’m sorry, but…” When she trailed off, he turned to her. “It’s too dark. I can’t see anything.”
Rick knew this was true and not some feminine device to drive him insane. With the hall light out while they had been squirrel hunting, he had barely been able to make his way down the hall, and he’d been to this house a hundred times. Mac would most likely take a wrong turn and fall down the stairs.
“I’ll walk you,” he said and made his way to his feet. Her shape was barely visible by the light coming through the windows. When he got to her side, he didn’t offer his arm or take her hand but simply led the way down the hall toward her room.
“Thank you,” she said, passing him and opening the door. “Sorry.” She bit her lip and gazed up at him. “Tomorrow?”
Pain hitched in Rick’s chest. He stepped back.
“Yeah. I’ll see you then,” he said, and he shut her door.
Chapter Twenty
Mac hadn’t moved, but stood and stared at the closed door, counting a hundred beats of her heart, feeling the deepest misery in her soul.
She had hurt him, or frustrated him…at the very least.
It sucked—what she’d had to do, pull them both away from the edge before they fell over. Mac knew they would get their chance. Just…later. Something had changed between them. Whatever it was, it felt important and permanent, and neither of them could deny it now. But that didn’t mean they were allowed to act on it right away. Not when her cousin’s words were ringing in her ears.
Brandy thought she could be falling for Rick. Mac cringed at the very idea. If she and Rick had finished what they’d started, and Brandy showed up here tomorrow and learned what had happened, she would be shattered. Mac couldn’t do that to her own flesh and blood.
Surely Rick realized this, too. Hadn’t Mac shown him in the most obvious way that she cared about him? That she wanted him more than anything? They would just have to get through tonight, apart from each other, then she would talk to Brandy the second her plane landed at ten a.m. tomorrow.
Very soon, it would all be okay.
Better than okay.
She touched her fingers to her lips, feeling where Rick had been. A sob caught in her lungs and she longed for him with every inch of her body. They were one closed door away. One dark, creepy, squirrel-free hallway was all that separated her from what she needed.
Feeling her resolve weaken, she reached out and curled her fingers around the doorknob that led to him.
…
Rick dropped his chin, his hand still holding onto the knob leading to Mackenzie’s room. Every instinct in his body was telling him to turn that knob and burst through the door. He needed her, he knew that just as clearly as he knew his own name. If he swept her up, maybe his need would be enough for the both of them.
His fingers tensed and gripped the knob.
But what if he offered himself to her again? What if he offered her everything he had, his heart in his hand, his body at her feet, and she still turned him down?
If he planned on salvaging anything of their relationship, he knew he needed to leave her alone. If he gave her the chance to break his heart again, he might not recover enough to stay in her life. The mere thought of that caused a deeper ache to pierce his soul.
With a final exhale, he dropped his hand and turned from the door.
He walked past the tangled blankets of his bed, unable to face it. The downstairs was cold without the fire and without Mac to keep him warm. He saw the blanket on the floor where they had left it. He couldn’t face that, either. In fact, everything in the damn room reminded him of Mac.
After grabbing his bag from upstairs, he pulled on sweats, running shoes, and his coat. It had started to snow again, but Rick didn’t care. If he didn’t get some air, put miles of space between him and the scantily clad Mac, he was liable to lose his mind.
The blast of cold air was a slap to his senses, and he welcomed it. He was careful not to slam the door when he walked out into the storm.
Chapter Twenty-One
Mac smoothed down her shirt and tucked the hair behind her ears. Maybe she should have worn her hair up. Or curly. Which way did Rick like it? Did she have any idea? Was there a standard for how you’re supposed to wear your hair when you’re about to talk about the future over scrambled eggs with the man you only recently realized you can’t live without?
Ha! That would be too easy, and “easy” was not Mac’s journey with Rick, thus far.
She added another layer of pearly eye shadow. That was always safe.
Maybe the weekend would be salvageable after all. All she had to do was walk downstairs and talk to Rick, make sure they were on the same page. She looked at her reflection and smiled, remembering how he had kissed her last night—yeah, they were on the same page, all right. Then she would have to sit Brandy down and explain what happened, break it to her that Rick was no longer on the market.
Maybe they would all have a big laugh about it. Maybe Brandy and Jeremy would hit it off and take a nice long walk through the snow, leaving Mac and Rick alone in the cabin to…
When she dropped her eye shadow brush in the sink, she couldn’t help giggling. This morning might just be the start of something huge.
She opened her bedroom door. The hallway was bright from the sunlight streaming through the windows. Mac noticed the wooden baseball bat on the floor, grinned, and stepped over it. At the end of the hall, she paused, wondering if Rick was still in bed around the corner. She was about to peek when she heard a sound coming from the second floor.
At the top of the landing, she found Rick standing near the foot of the stairs, holding a newspaper in one hand, looking up at her.
“Hi,” she said, unable to read his expression. What felt like about a million years later, his face broke into a smile, and Mac thought her heart might burst with joy.
With a determined look in his eyes, Rick dropped the paper and took two long strides toward her.
The sound from behind Rick made her jump.
“Hello? Kinz?”
Mac frowned at the new voice, and moved down one stair. Rick was still looking up, frozen in place, halfway to her. So close. His expression now read confused dread, mirroring hers exactly. Their gazes remained locked.
“Mackenzie Simms?” More knocking. “Anyone home? Rick?”
“Brandy?” Mac finally called out.
Rick had not moved his eyes from her.
She gave him a quick shrug and shake of the head.
“I thought they weren’t landing till ten,” Rick said through clenched teeth.
“It’s only nine,” Mac pointed out, panic squeezing around her throat.
“Hello? Mac?”
“You better”—Mac shrugged, unsure of what else to do—“open the door.”
“It’s unlocked,” Rick said, matching her full-shoulder shrug.
Evidently, Brandy caught this, because Mac heard the front door fly open. “Hey, you!”
Rick’s eyes moved from Mac and toward the vestibule. “Hi,” he said, and an instant smile appeared on his face. “You made it.”
A second later, a puff of white fluff rushed into the room and attached itself to Rick. Mac blinked and had the distinct pleasure of seeing her tall, shapely, beautiful, amazon cousin embracing Rick. She was in head-to-toe white, looking like a ski bunny out of Victoria’s Secret’s winter catalogue.
“I was thinking about you all last night,” Brandy said, causing Mac to feel a little queasy.
“Good to see you,” Rick said, patting her back.
Brandy wasn’t letting him go, and Mac couldn’t take another second of it, so she walked down the stairs, knowing that Jeremy was probably outside, schlepping in Brandy’s bags.
When Mac got to the front door, she found Jeremy standing there, holding a single red rose. “Hi,” Mac said, confused.
Jeremy swept in and hugged her low around the waist, lifting her up so her feet were dangling. She hated when her feet dangled like this. She wasn’t his dolly.
“Hey, Macky-Mac!” he exclaimed.
She flinched when he made a move to kiss her cheek. “You can put me down now,” she said.
Jeremy laughed, gave her a little squeeze, and set her down.
“So…” Mac said, her eyes held wide, her teeth biting the insides of her cheeks. “You’re…um…early!” She was trying to appear pleased, but knew she sounded baffled and squeaky.
“I know, right?” Jeremy grinned, sweeping his dark hair out of his eyes. He really did need a haircut.
“Uh, how?” she asked, her eyes wider, her speech squeakier.
“It pays to be a people person,” Jeremy said, closing the door behind him. “When Brandy and I were waiting for our flight, we noticed there was an earlier one. All I did was talk this old couple into switching with us. No problem.”
“An old couple?” she asked.
“They were going to see their grandbaby,” Brandy said. When Mac turned around, Brandy was pressed against the side of Rick. “But that boyfriend of yours, Mac,” Brandy continued, pointing a long, French-tipped fingernail at Jeremy, “is quite persuasive.”
“He’s not my—”
Mac was cut off by Jeremy clapping his hands then rubbing them together. “What’s on for today?”
Brandy whirled around to Rick. “Where’s our room?” she asked him.
Mac’s eyes flew to Rick, but his face was turned the other way.
“There’s an empty one on the first floor and one on the fourth,” he said, picking up the one bag that Brandy brought in with her. “You can choose whichever one you’d like to sleep in.”
“Oh.” Brandy appeared disappointed for a moment, but replaced it with another of her sunny grins. “Doesn’t matter to me,” she said, nudging Rick. “Where is yours?”
“I’m on the third floor,” he said. “I think you’d prefer the fourth,” he continued, heading for the stairs. “It’s small, but it has a view of the valley.”
“Sounds heavenly,” Brandy said. “I prefer the top, anyway.” She gave Mac a wi
nk as she followed Rick up the stairs.
“I guess that means I’m on the first,” Jeremy said.
Mac was about to call him a regular Einstein, but restrained herself. Jeremy wasn’t the one she was suddenly and irrationally peeved at.
“There’s a pool table,” she said, brightly, deciding to make the most of it. She would just have to grab Brandy as soon as possible and talk to her about Rick. “Maybe we should get a tournament going.”
“What are the stakes, babe?”
“Jeremy.” She couldn’t help shrieking a giggle when he grabbed her around the waist. It was involuntary—her ribs were ticklish. “Let’s go,” she said, pulling him by the sleeve toward the descending staircase.
After Jeremy laughed and trotted down the stairs, Mac heard something move above her. She looked up and saw Rick standing at the landing, watching them.
…
Oh. So that’s how it is.
Rick had seen enough. He turned on his heel and continued up the stairs, following the trail of Brandy’s perfume.
Was there really something going on between Mac and Jeremy? If so, why had Mac seemed so freaked when Brandy and Jeremy had shown up early?
Rick had been more than freaked.
He’d been looking forward to sitting down with Mac this morning and talking through exactly what had happened last night, no more confusion. When he’d seen Mac coming down those stairs, he’d been about to rush up to meet her. Who knows what would have happened after that. But then he’d heard Brandy’s voice coming from outside and, no matter what his plan had been, it stopped dead.
Rick’s heavy feet made it up the last flight. Since there was only one bedroom on the top floor, Brandy had found her way just fine. When he entered the room to see if she needed anything, she had peeled off her coat and was sitting on the end of the bed.
Speaking of Love Page 15