by Marina Adair
“A swift kick to the nuts sounds more my speed,” she said, and wow, she wasn’t giving him fuck-me eyes—she was sending him a clear fuck-off-and-die glare.
“Do I know you?”
“No, but that you had to ask reconfirms everything I’ve read about you.” Hunter got the distinct feeling that she hadn’t meant it as a compliment.
The dog barked several times, and that’s when Hunter noticed his red “Dog in Training” vest. Combat Boots shushed him and then faced Hunter. “This is Puddles. He’s trying to figure out playtime from work time still, so if you can ignore him when he asks for attention, that would be great.”
“Is he yours?” he asked, wondering if she was in Mackenzie’s support group.
“I’m training him,” she said. “Now turn around.”
When he didn’t move, she gestured for him to get turning, and the dog went ballistic. With a gentle shush, the dog was staring up at his mistress, completely silent. Taking a cue from the dog, Hunter got out of the car and did a slow circle.
When he was done, she rolled her eyes. “Not bad, but I still think the best-buns title should have gone to that Captain America guy.”
“Okay, show’s over.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He’d dealt with enough paparazzi to be wary of Santa himself. “Who are you?”
“Someone who cares for Mackenzie,” she said, then hesitantly stuck out her hand. “Tia Flynn. I’m Mackenzie’s sponsor. More important, I’m her friend.”
He took her hand, noticing how fragile it was when compared to the big chip on her shoulder. “Sounds like we have something in common, then.”
“That’s what I’m counting on.” She looked more hopeful than convinced. “She mentioned you guys were working on a project, and that you’d taken her to the store a few times.”
“I’ve gone with her, yes,” he said vaguely, and Puddles started barking so fiercely each low yap vibrated his little body.
Tia looked from the dog back to Hunter and gave the pup a good-job ruffle of the ears. “Puddles is an alert dog, trained to detect changes in body chemistry to signal an anxiety attack. He’s also excellent at detecting bullshitters.”
“Not bullshit, just cautious.” Sponsor or not, Mackenzie was a private person, and it wasn’t his place to share what she’d confided in him. If Mackenzie wanted Tia to know she was working on being more independent, Mackenzie could tell her.
“Huh,” was all she said. “And did you drive her here?”
“Yup.”
Tia studied him for a long moment, trying to get a read on him. Good thing for Hunter, he was used to people sniffing around in his business. So he upped that grin wattage and waited. Unlike most people, silence didn’t bother him.
It didn’t appear to bother Tia either, because instead of filling it, she used it to her advantage, taking the time to study him further, decide just how much she was willing to share. “Did she tell you why she needed the ride?”
“Yup. Did she tell you?”
“Yup.”
It was clear the woman was as suspicious as he was and protective of Mackenzie. The way Hunter saw it, they could stand there all day and get nowhere, or they could help each other out and maybe gain deeper insight into what Mackenzie had gone through. She could fill in the gaps he’d missed out on.
“She said her usual ride was on vacation,” he offered. See, he could be forthcoming.
“Arthur is on a fishing trip,” Tia said. “Leaving Mackenzie to fend for herself.”
“Not as long as I’m around.”
“Great, a superhero complex as well.” She rolled her eyes, then glared at him. Hard. “Did you know you’re one of six visitors she’s had since she left the hospital?”
“One of six?” Was she serious? Brody told him she’d lost her sight not long after he and Hadley had married.
She ticked off a finger. “Me. Her agent’s family.” She ticked off three more. “Arthur. And here’s you.” She wiggled the pointer finger on her free hand.
Hunter had a finger he wanted to wiggle at the universe. “I thought she got out of rehab a year ago.”
Tia bit her lip, no doubt wondering just how much to share. “Eleven months, and transitioning back into the seeing world is difficult enough. And Mackenzie did nearly all of it on her own.”
“She’s stubborn.” Hunter smiled.
Tia did not. “She’s scared.”
She was that too, but few people took the time to see past the tough exterior to the vulnerable woman beneath. Tia had, and that meant she could be an ally. And right then, he needed an ally.
“She’s both,” Hunter said, and Tia nodded.
“Which is why I’m going to ask you to stop helping her.”
Scratch that. They were not on the same side. “She asked for my help, nothing will stop me from doing that.”
He’d blown it the first time around, being so wrapped up in his own problems and plans that he hadn’t noticed the signs that she was in trouble. He wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
“I’m not saying don’t support her, but there’s a difference between helping and handicapping.” She held up a hand when Hunter went to argue. “Transitioning into the seeing world is rough. Things that were as simple as routine become huge obstacles to overcome. It’s not just adapting, it’s reinventing your life, and Mackenzie’s had a harder time than most. She’s hit a wall and can’t seem to get over it.”
“She’s gotten over worse and she’ll get over this too. She just needs time,” he said, knowing it was the truth. “Nothing will get in her way once she decides to go after something.”
“If you’re not careful, you will,” she explained quietly. “It will be well intentioned, but if you give her an out, she’ll take it.”
A fact Hunter knew firsthand. It was how he’d lost her the first time around.
He’d known something serious was going on with Mackenzie leading up to his wedding, but when pressed, she’d only clam up tighter, and he’d let her. Had he taken the time to find out what was really going on, let her know she was a priority, things may have gone differently.
For both of them.
“What are you suggesting?”
“That you encourage her to entertain new experiences but stand back and let her fail.”
“Mackenzie isn’t big on change.”
“I know,” Tia said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a client so afraid to fail.”
“Not around me.” He laughed. “Hell, the woman is too busy pretending to have it all together to worry about failing.”
“And when you’re gone, how will she be then?”
If the sweat forming on his forehead wasn’t an indicator of his increasing anxiety over what was to come when his time was up, then Puddles’s yapping was.
In Mackenzie’s experience, failing had dire consequences. And it was left up to her to push through the aftermath. But pushing forward was a part of her core makeup. However, taking care of others, was ingrained in Hunter’s DNA. Which was going to make for one hell of a fun few weeks.
“Muttley was a hard dog to place because he has needs that go beyond a normal guide dog. If something doesn’t change, Mackenzie might lose him. And that would crush her,” Tia said.
Crushed was an understatement. Losing Muttley would be another loss in a list of many.
“I had no idea.” He cupped the bill of his ball cap in his palm and resituated it. “This changes things.” Because this was no longer just about the music or the two of them. If she was as distracted by him as he was by her, she might accidentally sacrifice her own needs and goals.
Even worse, Mackenzie was stubborn enough to lose it all rather than ask for help.
“I’ll let her do things on her own, but I refuse to allow her to feel alone, and that means finding a way to get her excited about the change.”
Tia gave him a genuine smile. “Maybe I had you pegged all wrong.”
“What did you think?”
“I don’t know what kind of assholes you’ve met—”
“Some pretty spectacular ones.” Tia lifted a brow. “And even though Mackenzie says you’re one of the nice ones, I’ve learned not to trust the nice-guy package.”
“When it comes to Mackenzie, you can trust me.” Even as he said it, his chest became uncomfortably tight—and the freaking lie detector went off again.
Yap yap yap.
Hunter had been honest when he said Tia could trust him. There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do to ensure Mackenzie’s safety and happiness.
Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of uncertainty and helplessness slammed through him, twisting and churning until it created one hell of a complicated knot of emotions in his chest.
He could almost picture Hadley in front of him, shaking her head at his Superman complex. Reminding him that stunts like this were one of the main reasons their marriage hadn’t worked.
Christ. The knot tightened until he could barely breathe.
Mackenzie had given an almost identical reason for why she’d kept her condition a secret in the first place. Yet he’d just planned an evening for her that she’d never willingly attend. After what was going to be a trying night.
Shit. It was as if he hadn’t gotten a fucking clue over the past few years—the past few weeks.
He looked up at the universe and took a breath. Got it. Message heard loud and clear.
Hunter might have been slow on the uptake, but he was tuned in and listening now. First step: he needed a new plan.
“When it comes to Mackenzie, you can trust that I will annihilate you if you hurt her,” she said, and just like that the dog stopped barking, highlighting just how serious Tia was.
Hunter was serious too. He was going to make sure no one ever hurt Mackenzie again—even Mackenzie. And especially not him.
All he needed was to find the perfect opportunity to get her to de-compartmentalize, expand her world, and prove to her that life could still be fun. And he would make sure that she could explore it on her terms. Not his.
He looked at Tia, a walking encyclopedia of solutions. “What’s the next step in her therapy? And how can I be supportive and not suffocating?”
Tia smiled. “And here I thought men were all untrainable.”
CHAPTER 14
Friday morning, Mackenzie found herself in the kitchen, listening to a YouTube tutorial on how to bake simple strawberry cupcakes with whipped-cream frosting in five easy steps. Cupcakes with whipped-cream frosting hadn’t exactly been her goal when she’d awoken, but since it seemed less threatening than navigating downtown—or saying goodbye to Hunter when he’d left for the airport—she’d chosen the easy way out.
Yup, Cowardly Lion decision-making in full effect, she’d stuck to her not air-travel-qualified story—which suddenly seemed less terrifying than what would happen if she went to LA—then waited for Hunter to hop in the shower. The second she heard the water flick on she’d bolted for the nearest exit, under the guise of getting a jump on the homework she’d been assigned at support group.
Even more embarrassing, the focus of support group had been “Expanding Your World,” which had highlighted the importance of stepping out of her comfort zone and venturing into situations that challenged her.
Mackenzie decided to take a literal approach, avoiding the emotional and going straight for a physical location. Except the only public places she felt comfortable going were Bark ’N’ Bean and the market. Option one wouldn’t work, because Tia would call her a cheater before she even entered the café. Which left the market.
Sure, she’d been there before, several times, in fact, with Hunter. But she’d never been down aisle five. So technically, it was a new place for her. Sneaking out the door to avoid a goodbye? Not so much.
In her defense, she had left a note. Placed it on top of his duffel bag, which had been sitting by the door, packed and ready for his trip.
So Mackenzie packed what she and Muttley would need for their trip and expanded their world by fifty-five feet of chips and salsa.
To ensure that she’d explored every inch of her newly expanded world—and to give Hunter enough time to depart for the airport—Mackenzie strolled through aisle five three times, even asking a passerby to help her add a few new chip flavors to her collection.
It was on her final lap when she remembered some of the outings the other patients in her support group were going to take. When compared to navigating an ATM solo or taking in a concert on Broadway Street, a trip down aisle five sounded particularly lame, so she added aisles six, seven, and eight to the adventure, even grabbing a box of cupcake mix in aisle nine.
Surely a fresh batch of homemade cupcakes would deflect attention from the fact that her idea of branching out had consisted of picking salt and vinegar chips over honey barbecue. She’d hit the dairy section on the way to the counter and grabbed a carton of heavy cream, because no self-respecting cupcake baker could forgo the frosting.
Her therapist stressed the importance of using family to help navigate the new world, but Mackenzie didn’t have any family. And in a week Hunter would be gone. Not just for a meeting but for good. Which was why she’d decided to venture out alone. Well, that and the fact that she was terrible at goodbyes.
Only now she was home from the market, Hunter was well on his way to the airport, and she was regretting her decision. Note or not, sneaking out while he was in the shower hadn’t been cool.
In fact, it was a move straight out of the old Mackenzie’s handbook. She wasn’t sure what a bold Mackenzie move would have been, but she imagined it would have involved a goodbye kiss.
“You blew that,” she grumbled, adding some heavy cream to the blender. While it was too late for a kiss, she could still make his return trip special. Which was where the batch of homemade cupcakes came in.
A good portion of the cupcake batter didn’t make it in the tray, but thankfully a dozen or so of the cupcakes were salvageable. Hunter’s sweatshirt—the one he’d left behind and she’d slipped on, not because it smelled of him but because she was cold—was another story.
She added a teaspoon of vanilla and started the hand blender.
“Damn it!” Cold liquid splattered everywhere.
She turned the mixer off, wiping her face on the shoulder of the sweatshirt—the last clean space she could find. She didn’t even want to ponder the current state of the kitchen. She’d have to call her cleaning lady to swing by before Monday.
Maybe for an extra twenty, she’d stop by the bakery on the way.
“Simple, my ass,” she mumbled, setting the bowl aside. Muttley, who’d benefited from her earlier screwups, panted with anticipation.
Mackenzie was stuck on the last step: whipping the frosting. She’d carefully measured out the cream, vanilla, and sugar. Even used a chilled bowl. But instead of light and smooth whipped frosting, it came out more like melted ice cream.
“Simple isn’t the S word I’d use when it comes to you,” Hunter said from behind her.
His voice came from the doorway, but the scent of aftershave and damp skin filled the entire space from across the room. He smelled fresh, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, and the sound of his bare feet moving across the floor made her heart flip. It also made her wonder what else of his was bare.
An image that created enough heat to melt the polar ice caps.
“More like stubborn.” He moved closer, all that charm and easy swagger from yesterday gone. “Sneaky,” he whispered—and he was directly behind her. “As for your ass, smackable comes to mind.”
Mackenzie dropped her hands over her butt. “Don’t even think about it.”
“I’m way past thinking.” Coming up behind her, he placed his palms on the c
ounter, effectively caging her in.
Oh my . . .
“Nice sweatshirt.”
She tugged at the hem and played it cool. “I thought it was mine.”
“Funny, me too.”
She ignored that. “I thought you were on your way to the airport.”
“My flight was delayed, and so I came out to tell you, but you were gone,” he said, his breath whispering past her ear. “And so was my sweatshirt.”
“I went to the market. And I left a note,” she said, as if that was a sufficient answer.
“I found it,” he said, and even though there wasn’t any anger in his tone, she could detect a slight hint of disappointment. It was buried beneath his amusement and a gentle understanding that made her feel even worse.
Because had the roles been reversed and Mackenzie had come out of the shower to find an empty house and a two-sentence note, she would have been hurt. Especially after how close they’d grown over the past couple of weeks.
She turned to face him, only he didn’t move, so she found herself sandwiched between the counter and his rippling chest. “Leaving a note was a pretty shitty move and I’m sorry.”
“It was a shitty move,” he agreed, flattening his palms on the counter to lean in even closer. “You want to tell me why?”
“Not really,” she said, and he chuckled.
“Okay, well then, apology accepted.”
She blinked. “Just like that?”
“You seemed to be as upset about my leaving for the weekend as I was about going,” he said. “And while I would have rather talked it through, I get it. So yeah, just like that.”
No argument, no demands. Hunter accepted what she could give in the moment and forgave the rest.
A small smile touched her lips. “You might want to hold out a little longer, there is a bribe part of the apology.”
“I can see.” He tugged at the bottom of the sweatshirt and let go—expelling a cloud of flour. “Did you have fun at the market?”
“I don’t know about fun, but today was good practice,” she said, doing her best to ignore the feel of his body surrounding hers. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t touching her. He was close enough that his heat seeped into her pores.