About a Dog

by Jenn McKinlay

  “You have reached your destination.”

  Gavin parked his truck in front of the small local winery. Before Mac could hop out, he caught her hand in his and held it until she turned to look at him.

  “Listen,” he said. “I just want you to know that it’s okay if you don’t want to revisit the past. I shouldn’t have teased you the other night and told you I was going to try to change your mind. Just friends is fine, it’s better than fine. Okay?”

  Mac stared down at her hand in his and then glanced up at his face. The look in her eyes made his breath catch. She looked just as fragile and vulnerable as she had all those years ago. It took every bit of self-control Gavin had to keep from pulling her close and kissing her until she didn’t look so scared, until she looked at him with the same heat and longing he remembered when he’d finally made her his.

  He dropped her hand and jumped out of the truck.

  Chapter 10

  Mac watched him through the windshield. The look on his face. Wow, just wow. If she had any doubt that there was a spark between them that look removed it. Gav looked like he’d wanted to . . . no! She wasn’t going to go there.

  She shoved open her door before he reached it and hopped out of the truck. The winery was located in an old brick building off of Monument Square. Wanting to put some space between them, Mac didn’t wait for Gavin but hurried into the shop. Maybe she’d get lucky and the guy would offer samples.

  The bells chimed on the door when Mac pushed it open. The storefront was small with only a handful of tables and counter seating along the window overlooking the street.

  Bottles of wine were stacked floor to ceiling all around the room and a blackboard sign announced the specials of the day. A man in a red flannel shirt with a matching lumberjack beard was assisting a customer behind the counter. Despite his Gentle Ben appearance, he seemed to know what he was talking about in regard to wine.

  “If you’re serving duck, you want pinot noir, always pinot,” he said to the woman in front of him.

  She was tall, thin, and blonde, wearing an outfit that screamed she had paid too much for it at Nordstrom’s. Her purse was a clutch, nothing like Mac’s bag of tricks, and the diamond sparkler on her wrist announced her social status from three blocks away.

  Mac could only see her back but even from there she knew the poor wine guy was dealing with one of those Real-Housewife-wannabe types. Someone who thought she was living a glam life while lusting after her pool man and finding drama in her kids’ ballet lessons. Poor bastard.

  Gavin fell in beside Mac while they waited. The bearded man glanced past the woman and smiled to acknowledge them and Mac smiled in return. The woman, clearly unhappy at losing the man’s attention, glanced over her shoulder at them.

  Mac gasped. She knew it had to happen sooner or later. Why not later, universe, why not later? But here it was. The woman staring at Mac like she was a wad of gum stuck on her Jimmy Choos was Jessie Peeler—correction, Jessie Connelly—the woman who had snatched Mac’s groom right out of the church and drove off with him in her sporty little red convertible.

  Mac wasn’t sure if she was going to faint or throw up or both and not in that order. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and her breath was coming in rapid little gasps. Good grief, she was panting like a dog. She closed her eyes. She had to get a grip on herself.

  She cracked one eye open. Jessie looked amazing. Her hair was perfect, her skin flawless, her outfit was the season’s latest, nothing from last year for the ever fabulous Jessie Connelly. Mac glanced around the shop. The only thing that could complete this horror was if Seth was with her.

  As if reading her mind, Gavin leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry. He’s not.”

  Mac would have sagged with relief at that, but then Jessie turned all the way around. She looked Mac over and not in a nice way. “Excuse me, do I know you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Mac said. As in all times of great stress, she opened her bag and began to root around looking for something, anything, a magic wand, a sword, really, she wasn’t picky, to make the woman go away.

  “No, I’m positive that I know you,” Jessie persisted.

  Mac wondered if she could knock her out if she crunched her on the head with her calculator. That didn’t seem subtle enough. Mac kept digging.

  “Gavin,” Jessie said. “How good to see you. I swear you get more handsome every day. Now help me out, do I know your friend?”

  Gavin coughed into his hand but Mac didn’t know if it was because the woman had just called her his friend or because he was dying inside at the thought of having to introduce Mac to her own archenemy. Poor guy, she would have felt sorry for him but all of her pity was being taken up by her own needs at the moment.

  “Uh, no—” Gavin began but Jessie interrupted with a gasp.

  “Oh, my god, Mackenzie Harris, is that you?”

  Mac thought about jumping into her bag feetfirst, then she wondered if she could knock her own self out with a punch of her calculator to the temple. Even better, maybe she could fake an urgent phone call, which she would totally do, yeah, if she could find her phone. Damn it!

  “Mackenzie?” Jessie asked again.

  Mac looked up. Ah, yes, here it was. Jessie Peeler Connelly was talking to her. Jessie with her designer dress and shoes, her perfectly styled blonde hair in big, bouncy waves, her makeup, which looked like a pro had spackled it on, and, of course, she still had her cute little button nose and arching eyebrows. Mac wanted to punch her in the throat.

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” Mac asked. Yeah, because she could be bitchy like that.

  Jessie put her hand to her throat. She looked Mac over, taking in her bedraggled grungy state with a look in her eyes that was actually worse than scorn; it was pity.

  “I am so sorry,” Jessie said. “I had no idea.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mac asked.

  Jessie gestured to Mac’s big bag. “I had no idea that you were so down on your luck. Here, let me help you. It’s the least I can do after what I did.” Jessie opened her clutch and grabbed a wad of bills that she held out to Mac. “Please take this and use it for whatever might bring you some joy.”

  Mac had never actually seen anyone’s head explode but judging by the pressure in her temples she was pretty sure she was about to have brainus eruptus, or a seizure. Hard to say. She glared at Jessie and then turned to Gavin.

  “Make her go away before I do something that lands me in jail for the duration of Emma’s wedding.”

  “Got it,” Gavin said. He took Mac’s arm and led her to the far corner. “Wait here.”

  He then headed back to the counter. Mac turned her back to them and pretended to read the labels on the bottles while she blatantly eavesdropped.

  “Jessie, Mac isn’t down on her luck,” Gavin said. “She’s fine. We’re just running errands for my sister’s wedding.”

  “Oh,” Jessie said. “But she looks so . . . unkempt.”

  “Yes, as running errands and prepping for a huge event will do to a person sometimes,” Gavin said. His tone clearly indicated that she should let it drop. “Excuse me, are you David?”

  “Yes, I take it you’re here for Emma Tolliver’s order. So sorry about my delivery guy. Appendicitis—what can you do? I have it waiting by the side door,” David said. “If you’ll just sign here.”

  “Thanks,” Gavin said.

  Mac could hear the shuffling of papers and she expected Gavin to call her back, letting her know they were going now. She was more than ready.

  “Oh, one more thing Jessie,” Gavin said. “Mackenzie Harris is right at this moment and has been for every second that I’ve known her the single most desirable female walking the face of the earth. Just so you know.”

  Mac felt her jaw drop. Oh, no he didn’t!

  Before
she had a chance to pull herself together, Gavin grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the side exit where two handcarts were loaded with their cases of wine.

  David excused himself to Jessie and helped Gavin wheel the cases out to the truck, where Mac climbed into the bed and arranged the boxes for optimum secure transport. She couldn’t look at either Gavin or David for fear that she would drop dead of mortification. She had never been sure that it was possible before, but at this moment, yes, she was sure.

  When David took the carts back into the shop, Gavin climbed up into the bed of the truck with Mac.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  He stood next to her at the back of the truck and the look of concern in his eyes was almost Mac’s undoing. She refused to crack, however. She had no more tears to shed over Jessie Peeler and Seth Connelly.

  She took her baseball hat off and ran her hand through her hair as if she could wipe away the bad memory of the past fifteen minutes.

  “Yeah, I’m okay,” she said. “Honestly, it’s good that it’s finally over. I was dreading running into Jessie more than anyone else, even Seth.”

  “Why?” he asked. Gavin looked utterly perplexed.

  “Because Jessie has been able to make me feel insecure since we were five,” Mac said. “She was always poised and polished, whereas I . . .”

  “Look unkempt?” Gavin teased. The dimple in his right cheek winked at her and Mac couldn’t help but smile in return.

  “Shush,” she said. “You know, I’ve pictured running into her a million times. I knew it had to happen at some point. Of course, when it did, I thought I’d be, oh, showered leaps to mind, with hair and makeup a bonus.”

  Gavin laughed and Mac felt the steel bands of anxiety that had laced themselves around her chest at the sight of Jessie ease. She was actually going to live through this thanks to Gavin.

  “Thank you for what you said in there.” She put a hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “That was very kind of you.”

  Gavin looked at her hand and then her face. The look in his baby blues scorched. Mac took her hand back and forced a laugh. She had to steer this ship back on course. Now.

  “I had no idea you were such an accomplished liar,” she joked.

  She went to hop off the truck but Gavin grabbed her hand and spun her back around.

  “I meant every word,” he said. His gaze locked on hers and Mac knew there was no escaping him even if she wanted to, which she didn’t.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a head of blonde hair, but she didn’t pay any attention. Gavin pulled her in close and fast and before she could even register what the heck was happening, he was kissing her.

  With one hand he cupped her face while the other spread across her lower back, pulling her in tight. Mac had no choice but to grab onto his shoulders and hang on while he slanted his mouth over hers and kissed her with a thoroughness that left her breathless and longing for more.

  The smell of him, citrus and cedar, hit her low and deep like a flashpoint. Gavin, the feel of his strength against her softness and the firm press of his mouth where it met hers, wooed her into yielding to him just as it had before. She had forgotten none of it. Seven years should have dulled the memory but it was as fresh and crisp as if she had been with him just last night.

  As quickly as he’d grabbed her, he released her and Mac was relieved that he seemed a little light on oxygen as well.

  “What was that?” she asked, panting and trying not to.

  Gavin jerked a thumb in the direction of a black Mercedes convertible that was screeching away.

  “A little show for Jessie; I didn’t want her to doubt me, too,” he said. He cupped Mac’s face and stared into her eyes as if willing her to understand that he really did consider her the most desirable woman ever. Then he grinned at her with a wicked twinkle in his baby blues. “Don’t worry, we’re still just friends. I get it.”

  He hopped to the ground and held his arms up to her. Mac was too rattled to resist and let him catch her and put her on her feet. She took a couple of shaky steps forward but managed to become fully mobile; well, at least she didn’t fall on her face and make a complete ass of herself.

  As Gav opened her door for her, Mac climbed back into the truck, knowing she was in deep, deep trouble.

  Chapter 11

  “What do you mean he kissed you?” Carly cried. “There’s not supposed to be any kissing!”

  “Yeah, that’s a big no-no,” Jillian agreed. “You’re not even supposed to be alone with him. How did that happen?”

  “Emma had a wine crisis and asked us to go to Portland to pick it up for her but whatever. Did you miss the bigger part of this?” Mac asked. “Jessie thought I was ‘down on my luck’ and she insinuated that it was her fault.” She made air quotes with her fingers when she spat the words. “As if she and Seth could have that much of an effect on me.”

  “Okay, that’s just funny.” Carly chortled.

  Mac looked to Jillian for backup, but she was obviously struggling to keep a straight face.

  “I hate both of you,” Mac said.

  “Mackenzie Harris, is that any way to talk to your dearest friends?” Aunt Charlotte asked. She entered the room, carrying a tray of tea and jam tarts.

  “I have my reasons,” Mac defended herself. She rose from her seat on the sofa, took the tray from Aunt Charlotte, and set it on the large coffee table.

  “But thankfully, being unkempt is not one of them,” Carly said.

  Mac sent Carly a blast of stink eye, which Carly ignored.

  “Save a raspberry tart for me,” Aunt Sarah cried as she walked past the open doorway of the sitting room carrying a guitar case. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a black leather vest and black biker boots.

  “Okay. Um, you look lovely, by the way,” Mac called after her.

  Aunt Sarah made a shooing motion at her with her hand and never broke her stride.

  “Where is she off to?” Carly asked.

  “Guitar lessons,” Aunt Charlotte said. She smiled. “Her teacher is a pioneer of the surf rock music sound from the early sixties.”

  “She’s learning how to rock?” Mac asked. At least that explained the boots and the vest.

  “She’s rocking something,” Aunt Charlotte said with a mischievous smile.

  Mac was speechless. Carly, however, not so much.

  “Go, Aunt Sarah, go!” Carly hooted and Mac and Jillian frowned at her.

  “So, what’s this about you running into Jessie Peeler?” Aunt Charlotte had always refused to use Jessie’s married name of Connelly. She said it was the principle of the thing and at the moment she was making a face like she tasted something bad.

  Mac explained about the encounter, leaving out the part about Gavin saying nice things about her and kissing her. No need to get Aunt Charlotte all aflutter.

  “Well, I am so glad you had Gavin with you to help you through such a touchy situation,” Aunt Charlotte said.

  Carly sputtered her tea back into her cup and Mac gave her a warning look.

  “What?” Carly said. Then she grinned. “Are you feeling touchy?”

  Aunt Charlotte glanced between them, which was the only thing that prevented Mac from telling Carly off. She knew her friend was just trying to make light of the situation but to Mac there was nothing light or funny about it. When Gavin had kissed her . . . ugh, she had promised herself she wouldn’t think about it. Ever.

  She glanced at the food in front of her and chose a strawberry tart. She stabbed it with her fork and chewed her first bite as if it had done something to offend her. Quite the contrary, Aunt Charlotte’s tarts were legend and Mac forced herself to slow down and savor the flaky crust, the creamy custard, and the sweet strawberries piled on top.

  When her plate was clean, she felt infinitely better. With Aunt
Charlotte in the room, the conversation veered away from the Gavin situation and Mac actually began to relax as Jillian told them stories from the bakery and Carly shared some of her adventures in underwear buying that had Aunt Charlotte in stitches.

  “Men in black lace, really?” Aunt Charlotte asked. She fanned herself with a napkin. “I just can’t picture it. I can’t.”

  “Lucky you,” Carly said. “I had a male model’s junk right in my face as he strutted down the runway in a stretchy black lace boxer brief thing.”

  “You are making that up,” Jillian accused.

  “Hand to god,” Carly said. “Lace underwear for men, it’s a thing.”

  “We should get some for Brad as a joke,” Mac said. “You know Sam and Zach would be all over that.”

  Carly tapped her chin with the tip of her finger. “I may have some connections.”

  “Oh, goodness.” Aunt Charlotte blotted her eyes with her napkin. “I haven’t laughed that hard in forever, but I’m afraid I have to skedaddle.”

  “You’re going out?” Mac asked. It was already past eight o’clock. The aunts were usually in bed by now.

  “Well, of course, dear, it’s poetry slam night at The Grind,” Charlotte said.

  “Poetry slam?”

  “Uh-huh,” Charlotte said. “I’ve been working on my riff for a week.”

  “Your riff?”

  Mac stared at Charlotte as if she’d never seen her before. It was then that she noticed Charlotte was dressed all in black, with a fitted knit top, skinny pants, and black flats. She looked like Mary Tyler Moore from The Dick Van Dyke Show.

  Aunt Charlotte started snapping her fingers, and then she spoke in a clear chant. “I’m seventy-two—I ain’t no fool/But the clock’s winding down—No time for school/What I am—Ain’t what I’ve been/So I’m living now—Before it’s the end.”

  Carly was the first to start snapping her fingers as applause, and then Mac and Jillian joined in. Charlotte gave them a small bow and waved to them as she trotted out the front door.