Picking up the sheet, she slid underneath and cozied up to Blake, resting her head on his chest. The rest of him was deliciously naked and she draped her leg over his. His arm came around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him.
“Mackenzie?” he mumbled.
“Were you expecting someone else?” She looked up to stare at him, his eyes still closed, and a dreamy smile on his face.
“Just my favorite stripper.”
She’d never forget her striptease he made her do last week. Instead of being embarrassed and feeling awkward, Blake sang the brown chicken brown cow cheesy porn music while she’d laughed and stripped, flinging her clothes at him as she’d danced in exaggerated moves.
They slept like logs, not waking until they heard the squealing of tires the following morning.
Blake jumped out of bed and rushed to the window. “Shit.” He grabbed a pair of shorts from his laundry basket and yanked them on.
“What’s wrong?” Mackenzie sat up, holding the sheet tight across her chest.
“Nothing. Stay here.” He bolted out of the room and seconds later she heard the front door slam.
Not one to sit around and wait, she dug a clean shirt—she hoped—from the pile on his dresser and tugged it over her head. Padding barefoot to the living room, she looked out the window and gasped.
Someone had spray painted ASSHOLE on his truck with bright red paint. Mackenzie watched him rub a finger across the paint, still wet it seemed, and slap his truck with his palm. It had to be his sister Alyssa. He’d told Mackenzie about her and his suspicions regarding some of the weird things he’d discovered in his home.
Mackenzie stood in the living room and waited for him to come back inside. When the front door slammed, she let out the breath she was holding and watched Blake storm up the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Do you want coffee?” he barked.
“Sure.”
“It’s not the fancy shit you serve at your place. Black will have to do.”
“That’s fine.” Mackenzie didn’t know what to do with her hands. Or her mouth. She knew better than try to start a conversation with him now. Maybe leaving and giving him space would be best. Picking up her clothes that were still at the top of the step, she went into the bathroom to change.
When she came out, Blake had two steaming cups of coffee on his tiny table, a box of Lucky Charms, a gallon of milk, and two bowls and spoons.
“It’s nothing fancy like you have at your shop, but it’s all I got.”
It was the second time he said that, as if he felt ashamed of his place, of who he was. It wasn’t like Mackenzie came from anything glamorous.
Leaving before drinking the coffee he’d made or having breakfast would only feed this mood of his, so she sat down and poured her cereal. “Thank you.”
Blake didn’t reply, shoving cereal down his throat. When he was done, he got up and put his bowl in the sink.
“When were you going to tell me?”
Mackenzie’s hand stopped halfway to her mouth and she looked at him questioningly. “About?”
“Your flat tire.”
“Oh. How did you know about that?” She took her last bite of her cereal and got up to clear her bowl.
“The donut on your car. What happened?” He studied her angrily as if she’d done something wrong. Granted, he woke up to a terrible discovery, but she resented being the target of his anger.
“I had a flat. I changed it.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m sorry? Since when do I run every detail of my day by you?” She didn’t mean to snap at him. Not after what he’d been through the past week. Still, she’d told herself years ago she’d never take another man’s crap again.
“Shit.” Blake scrubbed his hand across the back of his neck and stormed out of the kitchen. He was back before she could count to two. “Shit,” he said again as he stomped up to her, taking her face in his hands and pressing an angry kiss on her lips.
Just like his storming out of the room, the kiss was over in two-point-two. “Shit.”
“So you keep saying.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Well, that’s good because I don’t know what shit is supposed to mean. You’ve had a rough morning. I’ll let you call the cops and get out of your way.”
Mackenzie started to walk off but Blake reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.
“I’m not mad at you.”
“That’s good because I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I know you didn’t.” He let go of her wrist and rubbed the back of his neck again. His shirtless chest and the way his stomach muscles flexed every time he flinched helped ease her mood. And the way his basketball shorts draped over his round ass didn’t hurt either. God, she was pathetic.
“Can you tell me about your flat?”
Mackenzie shrugged. “It was flat when I got out of work last night. I changed it and drove to my parents’.”
“You changed your tire?”
“Sure.”
“That’s sexy.”
“Seriously?” The man had sex on the brain twenty-four seven. Granted, so did she.
“I would have liked to see that.”
“I suppose I could wash your truck in a white T-shirt and short shorts or something. Maybe a string bikini.”
Blake stilled and stared, his brown eyes turning a deep, deep dark chocolate before melting her into a puddle of syrup right there on his floor. Damn, the man could give her an orgasm just by looking at her. Hell, he could close his eyes and just stand there and she’d go off like a rocket.
Taking in a deep breath again, Blake shook his head as if forcing his way out of his trance. Mackenzie smiled inwardly to know she could do that to him.
“We’ll talk about a car wash later. First, tell me more about the flat.”
“Nothing else to tell.”
“Did you notice anyone lurking in the parking lot?”
“No. I can’t see it from the coffee shop and didn’t notice the flat until I was heading to my mom’s.”
“Where’s the tire?”
“In my trunk.”
Blake turned, taking a step toward the front door, then spun back on his heels and pulled Mackenzie in for a slow, lazy kiss before stepping away again and rushing out the front door.
Talk about mind erasing. She’d forgotten she was annoyed with the man and followed him outside. He had her trunk open and was inspecting her tire.
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a slit, right here.” Blake pulled at the worn rubber.
“I must have run over something.”
“You don’t get a slit in your tire from running something over. It’s about two inches wide. Most likely a kitchen knife.”
“You think I ran over a kitchen knife?” Mackenzie squinted at the tire, finding the slice. And then it dawned on her. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Shit.”
“I’ve been saying.”
“Alyssa?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“You need to call the police.” Mackenzie looked over at his truck and cringed. His sister was a psycho. Hopefully she was just batshit crazy and not dangerous.
“It won’t matter. The best they can do is put a restraining order on her. It won’t stop her from harassing you.”
“And you, Blake. She’s hurting you too.”
“I’m not worried about me.” He dropped the tire and took her hands in his. “I’m sorry as hell I got you involved in this.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.” He brought their joined hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I…care too much about you.”
Compliments made her uncomfortable, but they did wonderful things to her girly parts. “You were asleep when I got here last night.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“I know the perfect way.
”
“Anything.”
“You owe me a striptease.”
Blake stilled, looked to his left at the graffiti on his truck, then by his feet at her slashed tire, before returning his gaze to her. She thought she may have overstepped, making too light of the situation when he was hurting and needing something more than she could offer.
The amusement in his eyes reassured her, as did his words, that she’d chosen wisely.
“For you, Mack, anything.”
***
Even though Diane was opening Coast & Roast this morning, Mackenzie wanted to get there early. Saturday mornings in the summer were busy and she was taking tomorrow off to participate in the first ever Mud on the Rocks event. Maggie had to sit this one out since she had the baby to care for, but Sage, Rachael, and Lucy were running it with her.
She wanted to get in a short run this afternoon as a last-minute prep. It wasn’t until noon that there’d been a lull and she sent Diane to the park for her lunch break.
The woman was a dedicated employee and would work through her lunch if Mackenzie hadn’t kicked her out. Those looking for a coffee and a muffin to start their morning had already been through, and the next few hours would bring the serious caffeine addicts who needed their fourth or fifth java to get them through the second half of the day.
Mackenzie wiped down the tables and had returned to the counter when the bell on the front door chimed, signaling another customer. She gave the woman time to read the chalkboard on the wall behind the counter. She looked vaguely familiar, but so did most of her customers.
There were the locals and the regular tourists, and then there were the one-timers, those who were visiting Rocky Harbor for the day or weekend. The slim brunette had been in before, maybe a week or two ago. The tourists who stayed for the summer were the wealthy ones who dropped a lot of money into the town.
Not that Mackenzie was biased toward the wealthy or the locals, but she was business savvy.
“Some days are harder than others to make a decision. Are you looking for something hot or a cold iced coffee?”
The brunette raised an eyebrow and studied Mackenzie before breaking into a coy grin. Snobby. This one was one of the snobsters who thought she was better than the working class.
Although her outfit didn’t fit the bill. There were no Gucci sunglasses or Coach purse. Her khaki shorts were slightly wrinkled and baggy and she wore those flip-flops you could get for a buck at Old Navy. Not that there was anything wrong with that. Mackenzie had cheap flip-flops in every color.
“I’ll have a small iced coffee.”
“Cream or sugar?”
“Sugar.”
Interesting. Mackenzie expected the woman to rattle off a grande iced sugar-free vanilla latte with soy milk, or some other obnoxious order.
“Coming right up.” Mackenzie poured her drink and slid it across the counter. “That’ll be two-ninety-nine.”
“Three bucks for a small coffee? What kind of rip off joint is this?”
The prices were clearly marked on the board, but Mackenzie didn’t rise to the bait. She took the bills from her customer and placed a penny in her hand. The woman huffed and peeled the paper wrapper off her straw, sliding the trash across the counter.
“I can take care of that for you.” Mackenzie smiled when she really wanted to slap the woman. She expected her to leave with the coffee, but she sipped and leaned against the counter.
“Are you from around here?” the brunette asked, changing her tone from snappy to sweet.
“Yeah.” Mackenzie wiped the counter and made herself look busy, hoping the bitchy lady would leave.
“I’m up for the weekend. Surprised my boyfriend. I only wish he didn’t live so far away.” Her skin didn’t have the sun-kissed glow many of the tourists were already sprouting. The lines around her eyes and lips made her appear somewhere in her mid-forties, yet she seemed young and vulnerable. As if she aged too soon.
Mackenzie wasn’t one to judge her customers, even the rude ones, but this woman, with her bony arms and her enormous boobs hanging out of her low-cut shirt, gave her the creeps. Like she was scoping out Mackenzie, or the shop. Hopefully Diane would skimp out on her lunch and come back early.
Doing her best to appear friendly and courteous, even though she didn’t care one bit about this woman’s boyfriend, she continued the small talk.
“That’s nice.” Mackenzie opened a sleeve of paper cups and stacked them in the already filled cubby.
“It’s so hard being away from him. We make up for it when we see each other, though. Like yesterday.” The woman slurped from her straw. “We spent the day together and then tore up his sheets, if you know what I mean.”
Eww. Now Mackenzie really needed rescuing. She was tempted to take out her cell and text Diane to come back early.
“I left his place around nine last night. I had to go…see friends. He thought I was leaving him for the weekend but I’m heading over there now. We can hardly stand to be away from each other. He’s totally addicted to sex. And so am I.”
Ooookaaaaay. “That’s, uh, nice.” TMI and then some.
“You must know him. He’s from around here. Recently moved back.”
“Maybe.”
God, she hoped not.
“He has a lot of siblings. Maybe you know them? The Riley family?” Mackenzie nearly choked. “I take it you know them?”
“Somewhat.” Mackenzie couldn’t imagine any of them having any interest in her. But the only single Riley brother was…
“Do you know Blake Riley? We’ve been seeing each other for over a year now. I think he’s getting ready to pop the question. Came back to Maine to settle down. I’m moving in with him. That’s the surprise I’m going to give him tonight. He’s been asking.”
Mackenzie thought she was going to be sick. Her head spun and the cranberry scone she had for breakfast churned with disgust in her stomach.
“We used to have an open relationship. I know he’s been sleeping with some bimbo up here while waiting for me, but he told me he’d end things once I move in. I’m okay with that. I’m a modern woman.” She slurped the rest of her coffee and shoved her empty cup across the counter. “You can have my trash. I’m done with it now. See you around.”
The woman’s cold sneer stayed on her face as she walked out the door.
The room in the air thickened and tightened in her chest. Mackenzie held her elbows across the middle and tried to breath, but couldn’t make her lungs work.
“Hey, you all right? You look like you’re ready to keel over.” Diane came to her rescue, placing a hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder.
“No. I…I need to leave.” Mackenzie spun around and ran up the stairs to her apartment, barely making to her toilet in time before she threw up her breakfast. And dinner.
Her gut clenched and she gasped for air as she dry heaved over and over again. Tears spilled down her cheeks and she moaned, from throwing up or from her hurting heart, she didn’t know. It all blended together. Falling back to her butt, she drew her knees up and cried and wiped her nose. Cried and wiped her nose. And dry heaved again.
The vicious cycle didn’t stop for what seemed like hours. When Mackenzie finally emerged from the bathroom, the sun had started to set. Her body weak with exhaustion, she stood in her miniscule kitchen, knowing she should eat something, but not having the energy to open a cabinet.
Somehow her feet dragged her to the couch, where she collapsed. How could she have been so foolish to fall in love? She and Blake had made it clear from the start that what they had going on was purely sexual.
But then he changed things when he said he wanted their sex to be exclusive. And then he upped the ante one more time by leaning on her with his family troubles.
And making her fall in love with him. She’d been blinded both times by charm, by what she wanted to believe. It had all been an illusion. Men were nothing but pigheaded, sex addicted egomaniacs.
She trust
ed Blake, just like she’d trusted Chad. And just as it had happened years ago, her heart had been stomped on one more time.
She should have known.
No more. No man would ever rule her heart, break her heart, or control her emotions again.
Mackenzie Pratt wasn’t a weak shell of a woman that a man could walk over. She’d force herself to eat and kick ass on the Mud on the Rocks tomorrow.
She’d show Blake Riley who owned her heart. She only hoped she was up for the challenge.
Chapter Fifteen
Blake
Between calling around about a new paint job for his truck and taking care of last minute details for the Mud on the Rocks, Blake had no time to think about, much less do, anything else. He hated leaving Mackenzie yesterday morning but didn’t want to drag her into his mess any further than she already was.
He’d filled in his brothers about the flat and the paint job, but didn’t want to worry his mom or sisters. There weren’t any threats or thefts. Yet. As far as he knew, his place was the only one broken into and Alyssa hadn’t made off with much other than the food from his fridge and cabinet.
Melinda had never been a serious threat to anyone either. A menace, yes. A disturbance, hell yes. But never threatening. Hopefully Alyssa was the same.
And there was the matter of clearing things up with Natalie. He hadn’t a clue what kind of lies Alyssa had fed her about him, but now wasn’t the time for Blake to worry about that either. He had a course to organize.
Their next event in a few weeks would be both weekend days. Colton had been wise in convincing Blake on a one-day event for their home opener. He got to the course early, before the sun had peeked over the horizon, and printed out his spreadsheets, timelines, volunteer lists, and coverage reports.
The crew he and Colton had hired to oversee the more dangerous obstacles were well-trained and his growing list of volunteers seemed competent enough to manage the less strenuous ones, as well as man the water and snack stations.
A slew of vendors had set up camp in the field. A handful of beer wagons and food carts to keep spectators happy while their friends and family ran the course, a row of outhouses at the back end of the parking lot, and a live band who would set up on the stage around eleven.
Playful Hearts (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 4) Page 20