Last month he’d gotten home late after an unsuccessful date and saw the screen to the lower level window had come loose. He’d fixed it in the morning and noticed scratches and dents on the window frame, as if someone had tried to jimmy it open.
Then, a few weeks ago, he took out his wallet to pay for drinks for yet another unsuccessful hook-up and had to use his credit card because the cash he thought he had was gone. Blake was known for buying a pretty lady a drink or two, so he chalked up the empty wallet as another failed attempt to seduce a woman he barely remembered.
No, the seducing worked. He just wasn’t interested in the women he’d encountered at bars or at the gym.
Well, maybe one. Blake riffled through his newly folded shirts wondering if his clothes had been a victim to invasion as well, and put on the least wrinkled one he could find, a black dry-fit T that had his obstacle course logo on it, ‘Mud on the Rocks.’
As long as the gym and the course were going well, and his family was happy, he’d ignore the stupid little oddities happening around him.
Colton had opening duties this morning at Rock the Gym and Blake planned on spending his extra hours before he had to report for duty enjoying the scenery at the coffee shop downtown.
Fifteen minutes later, Blake parked his Chevy outside Coast & Roast. There weren’t many spaces to park along Main Street and he felt a tad guilty for taking one up with his truck. He kept the windows cracked and hopped out. The shop’s doors were open, a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertising today’s specials: coffee and whoopee pies. Go figure.
Blake glanced around, looking for Mackenzie, and didn’t see her. Bummed, he ordered an iced coffee and waited while the girl behind the counter made his drink.
“The owner around?” he casually asked.
“Mackenzie? Yeah. She’s in the back talking with Rachael. She made whoopee pies since Kenzie wasn’t feeling well enough to make her famous brownies.”
Blake stood straighter, tension in his shoulders. “She okay? Does she need anything?”
“Oh, she’s fine. I guess she had a late night. You know how she is,” the woman—Brandy, according to her nametag—said with a laugh. “Nothing will keep her down.” Brandy handed him his beverage and he gave her a five, shaking off the change.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know how the gorgeous coffee shop owner was. And then he heard her before he saw her. Mackenzie’s voice had a softer edge to it this morning, and Rachael followed with concern.
“Go back upstairs and take it easy. Brandy and I can hold down the fort for a few hours.”
“I’m fine. Stop meddling or I’ll fire you.”
“As if. At least sit down and relax while business is slow. There isn’t anyone here right now anyway. Oh.” Rachael stopped short after she and Mackenzie rounded the corner. “Hey, Blake. Perfect timing. I’m trying to get Mackenzie to relax. Do you have a minute to sit down with her? She’s not going to hang out alone.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Absolutely. Here. Let me help.” Blake set his iced coffee back on the counter and put his arm around Mackenzie’s shoulder, which she quickly shrugged off.
“I’m not an invalid. You Rileys are as annoying as ticks. You’re sucking the life out of me. Go.”
Blake ignored her and gently pushed her toward a brown leather couch. He’d been in Coast & Roast a few times before, mostly to check out the owner, and paid little attention to the surroundings. It had a feel similar to that coffee shop in Friends. Only more inviting and homey. Part of the space was decorated in coffee artwork and quotes, while the back half resembled more of a beach with starfish and seashell stuff on the walls.
“I’m getting up as soon as the next customer walks through the door.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Blake asked Rachael.
“Other than her bad attitude? Headache. Migraine.”
“From her fall last night?”
“I’m right here. There’s no need talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”
Rachael stroked Mackenzie’s shoulders. “A little bit of everything. I told her to rest but she won’t. Maybe a walk in the fresh air? She doesn’t like to sit still.”
“No she doesn’t.” Mackenzie stood, wincing and brushing off Rachael’s hand.
“We’ll go for a walk then.” Blake kissed Rachael on the cheek, grabbed Mackenzie’s hand, and led her out the door.
“This is kidnapping.”
“Feel free to scream for help.”
“I can’t. It hurts too much.”
When they were outside, Blake stopped and faced Mackenzie, cupping her face in his palms and looking in her eyes. “If this is from your fall last night, we need to get you checked out.”
“It’s not. Let’s walk.” Mackenzie surprised him by not pulling her hand away from his as she led him down the sidewalk and toward path to the shore.
Her skin was soft and feminine, yet strong and warm. Hands that worked hard and deserved to be cared for. Doted on. More than her hands, her whole body, and not just in the sexual way.
There was an inner and outer strength that the woman carried with pride. Blake wasn’t one for deep introspection on a prospective date, but couldn’t help studying the fine specimen tugging on his hand.
Her long legs glided across the path. Stopping at the sand dunes, she bent over, releasing his hand to remove her socks and sneakers. An intricate tattoo decorated the top of her foot—a flower, purple, that was all he could tell. Blake knew how to pick out a bouquet for a woman but he didn’t know a rose from a daisy. Her toes were painted a cheerful orange and stood out bright against the pale sand.
Tattoos on women weren’t normally his thing, but seeing Mackenzie’s delicate foot decorated so artfully revealed another layer he’d hoped to peel off the sassy brunette. From his experience, every tattoo held a story, a special meaning, and he wanted to hear hers.
“Any better?” Blake toed off his sneakers and tossed them by a rock, then did the same with hers before reaching out for her hand. She studied him for a moment and sighed as if in defeat before clasping her hand in his. “I don’t have cooties, you know.”
“Just because I’m letting you hold my hand doesn’t mean you’re getting laid.”
“And here everyone’s been saying I was the one with the big mouth.”
“I know your type, Riley.”
“Oh yeah? Do tell. I haven’t figured out which boy’s club I should join. Tell me what you know.”
They walked along the beach, close enough to the water to feel the cool, packed sand under their feet, but not so close that they’d get wet. The Atlantic was still chilly in May.
“Pretty boys think they can get away with everything. Your charm has no effect on me.”
“So you think I’m charming?”
“I think you’re annoying.”
“Do you think I’m a good kisser?”
Mackenzie stopped in her tracks and ripped her hand from his. “That should have never happened. I didn’t ask you to kiss me.”
“Easy, Mack. It was a kiss. Not that big a deal,” he lied.
“Stop calling me Mack.”
“I like it.”
“I don’t.”
“It’s sexy and tough at the same time.”
“I’m neither of those things.”
Blake snorted. “Then let’s add stupid to the list.”
“Hey.” She swatted his arm and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his chest.
He’d shocked her, her eyes darkening, her arm falling limp under his touch. She didn’t have to tilt her head too much to look into his eyes and he watched her expression change from surprised to turned on, to pissed off.
“Let me go.”
Blake loosened his grip with his hand, but not with his gaze. That seemed to be the game they played together, a vicious circle. He needed to work on making the “turned on” segment last a bit longer.
Mackenzie opened her mouth to read him the riot act, he ass
umed, but he cut her off. “How’s your headache?”
Her shoulders softened and she lowered her fighting stance. She avoided his gaze and stared out over the ocean. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
“Distract my headache away?”
“Did it work?”
She shrugged. That wasn’t his strategy but he’d take full credit if she wanted to give it to him. Hell, he was such a selfish bastard he’d forgotten why they’d come out to the beach in the first place. Her naked feet distracted him and he hadn’t once thought about the pain she’d been in.
“I’m serious about getting your head checked out.”
“First I’m stupid and now I’m a head case?”
“I figured that’s why Maggie stayed close to you. Friend therapy and all.”
“You’re an ass.” She laughed.
“Most women like my ass.”
Mackenzie bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her grin. He liked their easy banter, even if she acted like she hated him most of the time.
“Seriously though, how are you feeling?”
“Better.” She tugged at her elastic and piles of dark hair came loose, cascading down her back. “The fresh air always helps.”
Oh, what he’d do to see her dressed in nothing but her tattoo and glorious mane of hair. Biting back his lust, Blake cleared his throat and looked away. “You get headaches a lot?”
“Not a lot. Often enough, though.”
“Caffeine withdrawals?” he joked.
“Something like that.” She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail again and wrapped her elastic around and around the thick mane. The top of her shirt lifted, revealing a strip of what promised to be sweet, soft skin. The fabric pulled tightly against her full, round breasts and he nearly swallowed his tongue.
Blake shoved his hands deep in his pockets and played with his keys so he wouldn’t frighten the poor woman by tackling her to the ground.
“Rachael get you into those funky shirts?”
“Hm?” She looked down at her chest and chuckled. “Great idea, by the way. Rach loves her shirts. They helped her through a rough patch.”
Rachael had always been the fun-loving obnoxious little sister until her dickhead ex-boyfriend trapped her in an abusive relationship, nearly destroying her physically and mentally. Blake had come to visit a few times, but couldn’t say he had a hand in helping her get back on her feet.
He’d sent her silly T-shirts that had baking or cooking quotes on them, hoping he’d bring a smile to her face for a few minutes. It was her husband Jake who deserved the credit now. And from what he heard, Maggie and Mackenzie were instrumental as well. Even Colton returned from combat to help her through. Granted, he didn’t want to return, but losing a leg didn’t give him the option. And his presence gave Rachael someone to fret about, distracting her from her own problems.
His brothers and sisters each started out with a crap life, were transformed with the love and support of Doreen and Keith Riley, and then all went their separate ways to make their mistakes, finally returning home once again to find complete happiness.
Blake was happy his siblings found their Hallmark card. Had he wanted the same life, he was sure he could find a woman to settle down with. Get himself a dog, find a couple of acres to build a home and call it good. Maybe even spit out a kid or two.
But he wasn’t looking. He didn’t want any woman caught up in his crap.
“Did you hear me?”
“What?” Blake shook off his foreboding mood and flashed a smile her way.
“You weren’t even listening. Typical male.”
“Sure I was. You were talking about Rachael.”
“And?” Mackenzie cocked her head and waited for him to elaborate. “Like I said. Typical. I asked you what your favorite shirt is.”
“Of Rachael’s?”
“That’s who we’re talking about.”
Right now his favorite was a cute little black shirt whose coffee cup was strategically placed over Mackenzie’s right boob, steam rising toward her neck. A neck he’d like to taste. He bet it’d taste like a deep roast with a hint of vanilla.
“Probably be ‘Bakers have great buns’.”
Mackenzie snorted. “I remember when she wore that shirt. Jake went wild and she took it off.”
“Easy now. She’s my sister. I don’t want to hear these things.”
“Not like that, idiot.” Mackenzie slapped his arm. “He didn’t like other men seeing her in that shirt and thinking about her ass. I remember him using a few choice words for you as well for giving that shirt to her.”
“Makes sense now why he took a bit longer to warm up to me. I mean, I’m a pretty easygoing guy. What’s not to like, right, Mack?” He liked how quickly he could distract her from whatever was laying heavy on her shoulders.
“I should get back to work.” They hadn’t walked too far down the coast and it didn’t take long to get back to their shoes. Mackenzie held on to his shoulder as she balanced on one foot to put on her socks and sneakers without getting sand in them.
“You could sit on my lap and it would be a lot easier.”
“Not likely.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Chapter Three
Mackenzie
She wasn’t one to smile over a guy, unless there was a hot group of landscapers or a construction crew working in town. And so her glow this afternoon had to be from her normally chipper demeanor, or so she told herself.
She was the one everyone went to when they needed perking up, in more ways than just a jolt of caffeine. Growing up she’d only had one friend, Maggie. And Maggie was all she needed. Living two completely different lifestyles, they proved the opposites attract mantra. Two oddballs: one living with lots of love and no money, and the other with an abundance of wealth and no nurturing.
They’d leaned on each other when there was no one else to turn to. And over the years their circle of two grew, welcoming Rachael, then Ellie and Sage and Lucy. A group of girlfriends all connected by the Rileys. Mackenzie was the only one without a direct connection, but Doreen still welcomed her as part of the family.
Maybe that was why she felt such a strong pull to Blake. And it was also why she didn’t want anything to do with him. His charisma and boyishly handsome looks reminded her too much of Chad. Even though it’d been years since she’d seen him, the betrayal still stung. The naïve girl who’d believed love and trust and honor could be found in a man, a sought-after man, was no longer.
Mackenzie still had high hopes for settling down one day, for having the happy ever after like her friends, but she’d never give her heart away. She couldn’t, because hers was torn, tattered, used and abused, and only now starting to heal.
Every woman for herself. She couldn’t deny the thought of rolling around in bed with Blake Riley wasn’t incredibly tempting. It was. But she feared she’d lose her heart to him as well. Maybe not to him—she didn’t know him well enough to think about feelings—but to his family.
She adored the Riley clan and crossing the line with Blake could mean the end of being a part of their family get-togethers. She’d have to tread carefully.
After Blake had walked her back to Coast & Roast, she made him another iced coffee—on the house since he didn’t get to drink his first one—and thanked him for the walk. He’d licked his lips as he stared at hers and she feared he’d kiss her in front of Brandy. Heck, she feared he’d kiss her and she’d kiss him back and all the way up to her apartment.
With a wink, a click of his tongue, and a tap of his finger to his forehead in his trademark salute, he spun on his feet and left, leaving her hot and flustered. The headache gone, Mackenzie busied herself with spring cleaning, knowing she wouldn’t have much time once the tourists came.
Later in the afternoon, when the woodwork was polished and the furniture rearranged, she brought in the chalkboard and listed tomorro
w’s specials. During the busier months she closed up shop around six, or later if people lingered. Since the place was empty, Mackenzie sent Brandy home so she had it to herself. A welcomed quiet.
In the summer and on weekends Brandy came in later, preferring to sleep in and work the afternoon and closing shift. Sometimes she’d come earlier when needed, like this morning when Mackenzie couldn’t get out of her own way. She would have suffered through her migraine if Rachael hadn’t stopped by and ordered her to call in the extra help.
Used to waking at the crack of dawn her entire life, Mackenzie preferred the morning shift, starting her day early with the smells of freshly ground coffee beans and chocolate from Rachael’s baked goods. The morning rush buzzed right through her just as much as a shot of espresso. She enjoyed talking with new people, reminiscing with locals, having their orders ready before they asked. Most days one or more of her friends, and someone from the Riley clan, came in. Sometimes for a quick visit, picking up their caffeine or chai tea, and other times they’d stay for hours.
With the new baked goods Rachael brought in, and the Paint Nights, business was good. Coffee was a nickel and dime profit, but she’d take it.
Needing another dose of fresh air, she locked up and tucked the key in her pocket. She thought about walking toward the dead end to visit Ellie at the Rocky Harbor Inn but figured she’d be busy getting dinner ready for Colton and CJ.
Ellie’s wine glass went untouched last week and the women speculated whether she and Colton were trying to get pregnant. The world didn’t stop spinning. Lives didn’t stop just because Mackenzie’s had.
Gawd. When did she turn into a melodramatic, depressing teenager? Needing a sugar fix, she stepped into the Dairy Curl and ordered a double scoop of cherry chocolate chip. Licking her ice cream as she headed down the sidewalk again, she waved to her work neighbors.
The town was small, similar in size to York or Ogunquit, but without as much hype. The town council wouldn’t allow any chain stores or restaurants in town or any businesses larger than two thousand square feet.
It was a fine balance between attracting tourists to help pay the bills, and keeping their town small, safe, and intimate.
Playful Hearts (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 4) Page 4