So, no comforting. At all.
“Do you like your new house?” he asked, hoping to steer the topic toward something positive and more upbeat.
“I love it.” Macy walked toward the open kitchen and smiled at the marks on the wall. “I always got so excited when Dad would measure me. I wanted to be grown up so bad.”
Liam remained near the door, just letting her talk through her memories. He had his own that he replayed through his head. It was those childhood memories, from the good years, that kept him going on the tough days. Maybe he and Macy did have something in common after all.
“Being an adult is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.” She laughed as she turned back to face him. “I think I’d rather go back to the days of fort building and finger painting.”
“If you can pay the bills that way, let me know how,” he replied.
Macy pulled in a deep breath and sighed. Smoothing her stray strands away from her face, she glanced toward the kitchen. “So, what are we starting with?”
He hadn’t thought that far ahead, actually. He’d watched her take in the apartment. He’d tried to look at anything other than those long, bare legs between the hem of her shorts and her boots . . . failing miserably. The shoulder peeking from her shirt practically begged him to reach out and see if her skin was as soft as it looked.
If he hadn’t known better, he’d swear she’d put this outfit on to torture him. But she hadn’t known he’d show up at her house.
Glancing at his watch, he shrugged. “Do you have anywhere to be in the morning?”
With a burst of laughter, she shook her head. “Am I going to be here all night?”
The possibilities were endless. He stepped closer, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Depends on how obedient you are as a student.”
Her eyes widened and he ignored the flare of desire in them as he passed her and rounded the center island. He seriously needed to watch his vocabulary where she was concerned. Everything took on a different meaning when trying to dance around sexual tension.
Liam quickly racked his brain to think of what he should tackle that wouldn’t be too overwhelming for her. Resting his palms on the granite island top, he leaned forward. “What are your thoughts for your dad’s party?”
Macy wrinkled her nose. “Finger sandwiches and cake?”
He couldn’t suppress the groan. “Do you love your dad or not? You can’t serve that.”
With a defiant tilt of her chin, Macy crossed her arms over her chest. “Fine. Then what are we going to make?”
“Since you want the party in the evening, people will expect more than finger foods.”
Her eyes widened in fear. “I’ll change the time.”
Liam laughed and pushed off the counter. “Sophie already has a mock-up of the invitations you asked for. We can make this work and keep it fairly pain free for you.”
“Fine, then. Let’s get started.”
As he began pulling out ingredients, his mind was working overtime. Keeping things simple and staying on task would be easy. Once he started cooking, his mind instantly zoned out to everything else around him.
Perhaps she could do some simple macaroni and cheese bites baked with a seasoned bread crumb topping. Maybe some steak kabobs on the grill since she was doing the party at her house. That was certainly simple enough. But he also had a great BLT pasta salad that would work really well, especially with summer on the horizon. Liam transitioned his menus from season to season like some people did their clothing.
“This cookbook is really old.”
Liam jerked around to see Macy holding his mother’s cookbook. The red and white checkered cover was as familiar to him as his scarred face in the mirror.
He reached for it, carefully snatching it from her hands, and holding the loose binding onto the back. Macy startled and fisted the hand that had been holding on to the book.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
Cursing, Liam set the book on the island. “No, I’m sorry. That was my mother’s.”
He swallowed at the pain that threatened to creep up. He’d never spoken of his mother to anyone. He’d only shared his childhood memories with Chelsea when she’d pester him in the kitchen. She’d feign that she was there to sample the goods, but he knew her tactics went deeper. She wanted him to open up, to share some of the hurt, and she’d been the only one to get him to do so.
Until now, when he wanted to share everything with Macy. For some reason being one vulnerable person to another was the key to getting him to want to rip open the wounds and reveal his pain.
“I’m still sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t think.”
“You didn’t know,” he countered, trailing a finger over the worn title. “My mother and I used to bake all the time. It was our thing. She was single and we really only had each other. She passed of a brain aneurism, so I never felt like I had any closure. I wasn’t there when she died.”
Macy’s feet shuffled over the wood floor. From the corner of his eye he saw her delicate hand reach for his. She flattened his hand over the book, holding him there as she stood way too close to his side. Liam didn’t move, barely breathed as he waited for her to say something. The silent comfort she offered was almost too much. Emotions clutched his chest as he struggled to pull in much needed air. Thinking of his mother always hurt, but sharing memories out loud was flat-out crippling.
“I’m sorry, Liam. I can tell she was a special lady,” Macy commented. “She’d be proud of you.”
“Probably,” he agreed. The warmth of Macy’s hand over his seemed to provide some type of courage he didn’t even know he needed. “I learned how to make a pie when I was five. I made Thanksgiving dinner when I was eight. She let me do absolutely everything from the turkey to the stuffing and the cranberry salad. Even though it was just the two of us, I made a huge spread.”
Macy’s thumb stroked across the back of his hand. “I bet it was amazing.”
“The turkey was dry, the pie was gooey, and the stuffing was a bit crisper than it should’ve been, but my mom went on and on about how wonderful it was.” He smiled as he recalled how pleased his mother had been. “I knew she was lying. I mean, I tasted the food and instantly knew I’d messed up. But that’s how she was. Always encouraging me to do better, try again and learn from my mistakes.”
“What did she look like?”
Jerking his eyes to Macy, he tried to figure out how he could describe the most beautiful woman in both spirit and looks. “She had long dark hair, blue eyes, and a soft smile. She was always smiling. I can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for her to work and raise me on her own, but she managed for the first twelve years of my life.”
“What happened when she died?”
Liam pulled his hand from beneath hers and turned away. “I’m not getting into that.”
“I know the pain, Liam. I lost my mother, too. You don’t have to say anything.”
He couldn’t, not when talking about the good memories gutted him. To delve into the fact his mother had been taken from him was more than he could handle right now. And Macy did get him, in more ways than he ever wanted to admit.
Macy moved around to stand in front of him. Slender arms circled his waist as she rested her head against his chest. She didn’t back down, wasn’t taking his rejection for an answer.
Liam closed his eyes as a new onslaught of emotions threatened to overtake him. There was more to Macy than he wanted to admit, even to himself. She cared. She might be flirty and make offers, but that was to cover up her own hurt. Deep down, she cared for him and he couldn’t help but care for her.
Still, what good would come of the two of them taking the next step? What then?
“What happened to the truce?” he asked, cursing his husky voice.
“We agreed to be friends,” she murmured. “And right now my friend needs a hug.”
Damn it. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin atop her head. She was right. He did n
eed this comfort, this connection from someone who cared. Having Macy as a friend was something he longed for, but he didn’t know if he could handle stopping there. No matter how much he tried to tell himself to leave her be, he was having a hard time. Because right now, holding her in his arms after he’d appeared so weak was exactly what calmed him. She knew him, she got him. He’d ripped open one of his wounds and exposed more than he wanted and Macy merely opened her arms and welcomed him in.
What would she say if she knew what he’d put up with? After his mother died, when he couldn’t save her and then went on to endure hell, what would Macy say? Would she see him as weak?
Liam didn’t want to dwell on his past, didn’t want to waste this time he had with Macy, and he couldn’t keep holding her like this when his heart was starting to get all entangled with her. There were things he couldn’t afford to do, and making more ties in Haven was one of them.
Liam pulled back slightly, glancing down to her beautiful face. “Let’s focus on what we came here for.”
She opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, but finally nodded with a smile. “Just remember, I evaporate water when I boil it. I also burn frozen waffles.”
Liam groaned as he released her. “Frozen waffles shouldn’t even be a thing.”
“Actually, they’re pretty good. Especially if you put some peanut butter and syrup on them.”
Holding up a hand, Liam shook his head. “Stop it. We will not speak of this again.”
Macy’s soft laughter washed over him, filling the normally dark space with a happiness he hadn’t experienced in a long time. She was good for him. As a friend, he couldn’t ask for better. So long as he remembered that, this truce would be simple.
Chapter Ten
Macy stared at the cast iron skillet full of one giant, round, chocolate chip cookie. Her mouth watered and she felt a swell of pride at the fact she’d made this colossal cookie and the thing hadn’t been scorched.
She turned to Liam, who was wiping off the center island. “Now what?”
He threw her a grin over his shoulder. “Now comes the good part. We’re making chocolate sauce.”
Just when she thought her mouth couldn’t water anymore. “Please, tell me you have ice cream.”
“I know how to do a sundae,” he retorted, giving the counter one last swipe with the wet cloth. “I also have whip cream—the real kind, not the junk. Now, get a saucepan out of the bottom cabinet. It’s the smaller—”
“I know what a damn saucepan is,” she muttered as she jerked on the cabinet door. This was the same space her mother had kept their pans in. It was a bit odd to see such expensive cookware in this place now, but she was glad her childhood home was being well cared for.
As he led her into mixing the sauce, he stood back and observed. Macy only felt a little nervous being under his eye, but the prospect of eating a warm, gooey dessert took precedence over her fear of messing up.
“Use the whisk in a figure eight pattern,” he explained, taking hold of her hand and showing her.
With his body behind hers, his forearm lining up perfectly along hers, and the warmth of his breath on the side of her neck, making the whisk do anything was a bit difficult for Macy. It was all she could do not to slide onto the floor at his feet. Her shaky knees were working overtime and Liam seemed to be oblivious as he continued to move her hand in the pattern.
The chocolate started to thicken up and Macy turned her head slightly. “Is it done?” she murmured.
Liam’s gaze dropped to her lips, his hand tightening on hers. For a half second, Macy froze. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink. The stubble running along Liam’s firm jawline begged for her to run her lips across it to see if it was as coarse as it looked.
Before she lost her mind and stepped over their friend boundary line, Liam stepped back and cleared his throat.
“Yeah, it’s done.” He turned, muttered something under his breath, and jerked on the freezer door. “The bowls are in the cabinet above you and to the right.”
Macy left the whisk in the pan and grabbed the bowls. It was a wonder she didn’t drop them with her shaky hands, but she held strong. Now all she needed to do was ignore the fluttering in her belly and the way her body literally ached for his and concentrate on eating her dessert. Simple as that.
“Turn off your burner,” he told her as he pried the lid off the ice cream. “You don’t want the bottom of your chocolate to burn and I don’t want my good pan ruined.”
After he cut the cookie and gave them each a warm piece, he scooped chocolate-swirl ice cream on top and Macy drizzled the syrup over all of it.
“I can honestly say my new kitchen has never smelled like this,” she told him, eyeing her bowl of calories. “And I’m pretty sure this kitchen hasn’t smelled this good since my mother was alive.”
Liam pulled out two spoons and handed her one. “Let’s take these to the couch. You’ve worked hard and deserve to take a break.”
Macy settled into the corner of the leather sofa, tucking her feet beneath her. She cut into the cookie and made sure to have a healthy amount of ice cream and syrup on her spoon before she took her first bite. The groan that escaped her couldn’t be helped. This was seriously the best dessert ever.
“Damn, I’m a good cook.”
Taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch, Liam laughed. “You are. Cookies in the cast iron pan are my absolute favorite.”
“So you started me with your favorite instead of the basics?”
Liam eyed her. “Chocolate chip cookies are the basics.”
Macy slid her spoon through another bite. “I figured basics would be something like canned green beans.”
“Stop it,” he said, scooping up another bite. “Quit talking about all of your canned and processed foods. It makes me nauseous to think people eat like that.”
Macy merely shrugged and concentrated on her decadent dessert. “I’m really glad I have on my baggy shorts. I can feel the pounds clinging to my waist.”
“Your waist is perfectly fine,” he muttered.
There was no comment she could add to that, so she finished off her gooey treat and took her bowl to the sink. After she rinsed it out, she placed it in the dishwasher and started cleaning up the kitchen.
“I’ll get it.” Liam came over and put his empty bowl in the sink. “It’s getting late.”
“I’m not leaving you with this mess.”
Macy reached past him and grabbed the cast iron skillet. The instant burn to her hand had her dropping it back onto the stove. With a hiss, she clutched her hand to her chest.
“Damn it.” Liam moved lightning fast and grabbed her arm. “Let me see.”
The palm of her skin and her two middle fingers were already turning a shade of purple. Macy bit down on her lip and tried to pull her arm back.
“Get cold water on this.” Liam urged her toward the sink, turned on the faucet, and thrust her hand beneath the refreshing spray. “Don’t move.”
Without another word, he rushed out of the room and headed toward the bathroom. Macy leaned forward and let the water take away some of the sting. Stupid, stupid mistake. Of course the cast iron handle was hot. She’d used a pot holder for it earlier and they hadn’t taken that long to eat.
Embarrassment overrode any pain and she cursed herself for being such a moron. This rookie kitchen mistake would no doubt make Liam think of her as . . . what? Someone who didn’t have common sense? Clearly she wasn’t fit for this and she was proving to him just how inept she was.
“Here.” Liam turned the water off and grabbed a paper towel. “Gently dab the area dry and let me put some ointment on it.”
Macy dried around the wound and barely dabbed the actual burn. Thankfully her entire hand wasn’t hurt, but the throb seemed to extend far beyond the wounded area.
“Lucky it was your left hand,” Liam muttered, opening the tube of ointment.
“I’m a lefty.”
He
squirted some cream onto a clean cotton swab and shook his head. “Of course you are. I forgot.”
When he came at her with the cotton, Macy flinched.
“I haven’t touched you yet.” His eyes held hers. “Relax.”
“I’m just preparing myself for more pain.”
Gently, he held her wrist. “I promise, this stuff doesn’t hurt. It actually takes the sting away and it’s an antibiotic cream, too. You’ll feel better in seconds.”
Macy held her breath, turned her head, and waited for him to work this miracle he claimed would cure her. The delicate touch of his fingers wrapped around her wrist comforted her. Those strong hands soothed her nerves in a way that she hadn’t known before. Liam had quite the bedside manner.
“I need to wrap this.”
When he let go, Macy realized the pain had indeed subsided. She glanced down to her hand, which was now greasy from the ointment.
Liam unwrapped a bandage and laid it on her hand before grabbing the tape. He carefully wound the cloth-type tape around her hand. Macy stared at the top of his head as he leaned down and studied his work. He was so intent on helping her, he hadn’t tried to turn away his scarred side. When he lifted his head, she realized how close they were. His hands still held onto hers and Macy didn’t even resist. She lifted her good hand and rested her palm on his scar.
When he started to pull away, Macy lifted her brows and held his gaze. “Don’t.”
The muscle in his jaw clenched beneath her hand. The slight stubble tickled her palm. He didn’t look away, didn’t let go of her. For once, Liam wasn’t trying to hide himself.
“You know you’re attractive with or without a scar, right?” she asked, well aware that this conversation could turn against her in seconds. But she wanted him to know exactly what she thought.
Liam grunted and glanced down to her bandaged hand, then back up. “I’m sorry you’re hurt.”
Lost in You Page 14