by Jo McNally
Her dad. Cathy. Mack’s failed marriage. Danger Dan. All those boxes she’d put people into. None of those boxes seemed to fit anymore. Was it good? Bad? Or just...life?
She was approaching the resort’s golf course when a motorcycle came roaring over the crest of the hill ahead of her. She thought nothing of it until the bike slowed dramatically, then pulled into the entrance of the golf club and stopped directly in front of her. Awkward. And a little scary. She didn’t know anyone with a motorcycle in town, and this guy was staring straight at her through his black helmet visor.
He pulled the helmet off, and she started to laugh in surprised relief. Danny Adams. On a motorcycle. Talk about people not filling their assigned boxes. Or into tight jeans. Or...she totally lost her train of thought. Dan’s denim-clad legs were braced to hold the bike upright, and he was smiling at her. Wait. He was reaching a hand out to her. For what?
“Perfect timing, Mackie. Wanna take that first-ever motorcycle ride?”
The bike was idling with a rumble that vibrated in her chest. He looked like sex on a stick right now, with that leather jacket and his usually neat hair standing on end, clutching the gleaming black helmet in his hand. The thought of wrapping her arms around his waist and straddling that machine was extremely tempting.
“Isn’t there a helmet law in New York?”
He reached behind him with a grin, pulling a dark purple helmet out of the saddlebag and handing it to her. What a strange, through-the-looking-glass sort of day this was turning into.
“And you carry a purple helmet with you at all times because...?”
“Because you never know when you might see someone who likes purple and really needs a ride.”
Her lips trembled a little. He had no idea. “Was it that obvious?”
His smile slipped. “Is everything okay?”
She looked down at the noisy bike and her smile strengthened. “It is now. Let’s blow this Popsicle stand, Luke Perry.”
She stepped forward, but he stopped her, looking at her feet. “Whoa. Sneaker laces and motorcycle-wheel spokes are not a good combination.”
“I can tuck the laces into my sneaks.” She bent over and did that, then straightened and took the helmet from his hand. “Is that better, Mr. Safety First?”
“Much.” He helped her adjust the strap under her chin. “Watch the muffler. It’ll burn your leg if you’re not careful.” The seat was more slippery and rounded than she’d anticipated. It also sloped forward so that body contact was unavoidable. Dan pointed out a couple handholds next to the seat and behind it, but he was the handhold she preferred. He tensed for a second when she slid her arm around his waist. Then he relaxed and patted her hand. “Good girl. Your body follows my body, okay? If I lean, you lean. If I don’t lean, you don’t. Got it?”
“Yes, sir, Officer, sir!”
He rolled his eyes and turned forward. His foot jiggled something, his hand moved something on the handlebars and they were off. He went back up the hill toward wherever he’d come from.
It was loud. And different. She felt very exposed, especially when a big truck passed them from the opposite direction. She lowered her head at first, resting it on the back of his shoulder and hiding her face from the wind. But when he turned onto the side road, she raised her head and kept it up. Cars had plenty of windows all around, but the view was nothing like this panorama in every direction. It felt like she was a part of the scenery instead of just driving through it. Dan seemed confident and at ease with the bike, and her grip loosened as she relaxed and took it in.
The lake stretched out below them on the left. On the right, Gallant Mountain rose high above, with heavy forests broken only by the occasional home. They went beyond the mountain and Dan made another turn, taking a road between two high ridges and heading into the rural countryside. She pressed up against his back and raised her voice so he could hear. “Come on, you can go faster than this!”
Dan shook his head, but he accelerated. She was tempted to put her arms out to the side, Titanic-style, but she wasn’t sure if it would bother Dan. So she tried it with one arm, pointing to a herd of dairy cows and leaving her arm out there. He didn’t react, so she slowly moved her other arm away from his stomach. She felt him tighten, but he didn’t say anything. And then she was doing it. She was flying, arms out, chest pressed tight against Dan’s back for security. They rode like that for a minute, then he glanced back and shook his head. She understood the unspoken command and behaved herself again, holding on to him and the bike. But the sense of freedom remained, burning bright.
Chapter Nine
Dan couldn’t believe his luck at finding Mackie walking just as he was headed into town to seek her out. And the look on her face when he pulled off his helmet in front of her. Priceless. And then she’d put her leg across the seat, pressing her body so tight up against him he wasn’t sure he’d be able to concentrate enough to drive.
If he thought he’d felt free before, that was nothing compared to how he felt with Mack’s arms wrapped around him as they leaned into the curves along the country roads. Then she’d put her arms out like a bird behind him, and, as crazy as it was, he’d let her do it. At least for a mile or two. Because he knew she was feeling it, too. Freedom. No judgment. No responsibility. No labels to live up to...or run away from. He wasn’t Danger Dan. Well...maybe a little. She wasn’t prim and proper Mackenzie. He wasn’t a guy with a badge right now. They were just two people cruising down the road on a sunny May afternoon. Dan and Mack.
He headed up the next hill and remembered that Paul Cooper’s place was out here and the farm stand might be open. Paul had one of the biggest sugar maple groves in the area and made the best maple syrup around. Dan slowed down as they approached and saw the green banner flying that indicated the stand was open for business. Mack straightened and looked around as Dan brought the bike to a stop.
Today was an honor day at the stand. There was a covered bucket nailed to the post to collect payment and a limited amount of product out. A small sign sat on the plywood counter.
There’s the price →
← There’s the pay bucket
We have faith in you to do the right thing.
And if you don’t pay us, we have faith in karma evening the score.
Mack slid off the bike and laughed at the sign, unbuckling her helmet. “Does that really work?”
“Most of the time.” Dan nodded, mesmerized at the sight of her thick hair tumbling free. “Paul doesn’t leave enough product out to hurt too bad if someone gets carried away. Usually the worst of it is someone walking off with a can of syrup.” He pointed up under the eaves of the rustic-looking stand. “And that digital camera will usually catch the license plate, and maybe even a nice portrait.” He waved, not expecting a response. Paul’s truck wasn’t there, but he might have an alert on his phone for the camera.
“What is up with all the cameras around this town? Is there some vast criminal underground you people are dealing with?”
Dan sorted through the maple sugar candy display and pulled out two small white paper packages from the back, where the afternoon sun wouldn’t have melted them. He tossed one bag to Mack.
“These days, half the doorbells in this country are minicameras. You probably had just as many cameras in Greenwich, but you didn’t have me around to point them out.”
“Fair enough.” She bit into a piece of candy molded into the form of a maple leaf. “Oh wow, this is delicious. But the sweetness makes my teeth tingle.”
“Yeah, it’s pure maple sugar. When Paul cooks the syrup all the way down, it turns into this.”
“Do I know this Paul?”
“No. He bought the old Kraddock place ten years ago. He’s done well with it. Has kids here for field trips, and he and his husband have a big party when the sap starts running in March.” Dan popped a piece of candy in his mouth an
d let it melt there. He’d always been a sucker for anything maple flavored, even as a kid. His phone vibrated with a text. He grinned and nodded up toward the camera. “It’s from Paul. He must have gotten an alert on his phone.”
The texts came in rapid succession.
Scott and I are staying in the city tonight to catch a show.
When did you dig out the BIKE?
Who’s the hot chick?
Dan turned his phone so Mack could read the messages. She joined him in laughter when she read the last line.
“I haven’t had anyone think of me as a hot chick in a long time.” She gave a thumbs-up toward the camera, then walked over to the large tree between the stand and the road.
“I can promise you that’s not true.”
Her laughter came to an abrupt halt.
“What?”
Dan walked over to where she was leaning against the tree. He brushed her hair back from her face, leaving his fingers on the silky-soft skin behind her ear.
“Come on, Mack. Even if I wasn’t thinking it, every other guy would be.”
Was it possible she didn’t know? But then, no other man had seen her dancing barefoot in a mountain meadow. Her eyes went wide and unblinking. Her breath stilled, and he realized his had, too. His hand slid to curl around the back of her neck. What was this woman doing to him? His nice, orderly life was suddenly sliding toward disaster as if a cat was walking along and smacking everything over the edge.
Ryan’s kid sister. He’d accosted her in her dad’s store. He’d had a drink with her. He’d watched her dancing on the mountain. He’d danced with her. And now he was taking her for a spin on the Harley he’d had in mothballs for years. And he was thinking about kissing her. Really thinking about it. From the heat in her eyes, she was on the same wavelength he was. They stood like that, staring at each other, for what seemed like a very long time.
Time enough for him to realize that the exact color of her eyes was that of honey and hot cocoa layered over each other, with just a little gold glitter added in. Her thick lashes were approximately three-eighths of an inch long and were the same dark gold as her hair. She had exactly seven freckles on her right cheek and eight on her left. And her lips... Her lips were full and softly tinted pink. And they were parted. Waiting for him.
This was nuts. Nuts.
He hardly touched her at first, just brushing his lips against hers so softly he could barely feel it himself. His head lowered a fraction, increasing the pressure. That’s when she responded, pushing against him and thrusting her hands up and into his hair, pulling him down. The kiss heated up exponentially second by second, until he had her flattened against the tree trunk, his tongue deep in her mouth and his hands cupping her butt.
He was a man who was trained to be constantly aware of his surroundings. That didn’t turn off just because he was off duty. It never turned off. But he didn’t even hear the approaching car until it was racing past them, a bunch of teens hanging out the windows hooting and hollering. Mack flinched, but he tightened his grip on her. Those high school kids would never recognize his Harley. And they’d never guess dear old Sheriff Dan would be necking with some blonde at the maple syrup stand.
The absurdity of it set off a bubble of laughter deep in his chest. He tried to hold it in until he realized Mack was shaking with laughter, too. He lifted his head and immediately missed the warm comfort of her lips. Her eyes shimmered with humor and heat. She moved one hand to his cheek, smacking him playfully.
“People our age usually know better than to have a make-out session in broad daylight on the side of the road.” She tipped her head toward the bike. “Is this a side effect of that?”
“Do motorcycles make women horny? Sometimes.”
Her playful slap got a little bit sharper on the side of his face. “Women? Excuse me, Officer, but you’re the one who seems to have a thing for throwing me up against walls and trees and stuff.”
“Yeah, I do, don’t I?” He kissed her again, sliding her around behind the tree as he did. She giggled against his mouth. The sensation was electric. Her laughter. Her body, all soft and warm. Her mouth moving against his, doing her own exploring. Kissing this woman was like handling dynamite.
Another car went by, but they were out of sight now, and neither of them had any intention of stopping. Which was nuts, right? They were in Paul’s front yard, for crying out loud. On a Thursday afternoon. He gave a deep groan of frustration. Mack clutched at him, probably guessing he was going to pull away. This wasn’t the time or the place. He lifted his head, and now it was Mack’s turn to groan. She grabbed at his shirt, but he took a step back. Time for a reality check.
“Mack...it’s four o’clock in the afternoon. And we haven’t even talked about...anything.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I know you want to be adventurous, but going any further out here is a little too far, isn’t it?”
She raised her fingers to her lips and nodded. “Right. Of course. Sure.”
A commercial truck went by at a rate well above the speed limit. She flinched, then stepped away from the tree. He watched her eyes, which dimmed for a moment before brightening again. Her mouth curved into a sly smile. She patted his chest and walked by him toward the bike.
“I guess there’s a little Danger Dan in there after all.”
That was exactly what he was afraid of.
* * *
Mack’s heart was racing. Not only had she ridden a motorcycle for the first time—with Danny Adams!—but she’d also kissed the man. Under a tree on a quiet farm road in Gallant Lake. And he’d said she was hot. A hot chick. Tears burned her eyes.
She’d never been the hot chick in high school. That had been Shelly and Kiara’s role, in their short skirts and cropped tops. Not Mack. She’d been the good student. The good sister. The good daughter. The good wife. The good chairperson of half a dozen charities through the years. She hadn’t stopped trying to be good until she’d opened the storage room door at the country club and found her husband humping Charity Williams. The irony.
All that trying. In the process, she’d left friends like Shelly and Kiara in the dust. She’d left herself in the dust. So eager to escape Gallant Lake. So eager to be Miss Prim and Proper Housewife. So eager for approval from everyone else. With never a thought about what she wanted.
She pulled in a ragged breath but didn’t feel any oxygen reaching her lungs. Of all the places to gain clarity on the falseness of her entire life, it had to happen at a maple syrup stand in Gallant Lake.
“Hey...” Dan put his hand on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
She started to laugh, and then, to her horror, she began to cry. To ugly cry, with big ugly tears as well as big dramatic sobs for complete humiliation. She leaned over, hands on her thighs, wheezing in breaths between the cries racking her chest.
She was vaguely aware of Dan leading her farther away from the road. “Jesus... Mackie, what is it? Did I do something? I’m sorry...”
There was a picnic table behind the stand, out of sight and shaded. As soon as they sat, Dan folded her into his arms. She shook her head sharply before giving in to the crying jag that had clearly just been waiting for a chance to humiliate her properly.
“It’s not...you. It’s me...my life...”
The fear left Dan’s voice, leaving only warmth and caring.
“Oh, Mackie. Go ahead. Get it out, baby.”
She obliged, sobbing into his shirt while he held her, his hand running slowly up and down her back. He was speaking, but it was more a murmur of comforting sounds than actual words. Her tears didn’t seem to intimidate him or make him want to run. That was new. Mason hated it when she cried. He told her it was childish. That was rich coming from a guy who cheated on her with a girl who was barely above the age of consent.
A laugh bubbled up, making Dan’s hand freeze. Did he think she was
having a breakdown? Who was she kidding—she was having a breakdown. And for some crazy reason, that made her laugh harder, with tears still covering her face. She lifted her head and gave him a watery smile.
“I’m sorry. This is horrible timing for an emotional collapse. Don’t take it personally. I just...”
She wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, and Dan fished in his pocket for a handkerchief. What kind of man still carried a cotton handkerchief? Her dad. And Dan. She laughed again, then the tears returned. She was completely out of control. He pulled her back into his embrace, and she cried some more, but more softly now. The tidal wave had passed, and she was finding her center again. Slowly. Dan didn’t rush her. He didn’t talk. He didn’t ask her to talk, either. He was just...there. Like a rock. Like a good guy.
She pulled in a long, slow breath and put Dan’s handkerchief to use. She knew she wasn’t a pretty crier. Her face had to be red and blotchy and puffy and wet and...
Dan’s fingers raised her chin and his mouth brushed hers before he came in for a deep, hypnotic kiss. He lifted his head and grinned, saying exactly what she needed to hear.
“You’re still a hot chick.”
She huffed out a genuine laugh, no longer feeling on a razor’s edge.
“I’m a hot mess is what I am.”
He stared into her eyes, then shook his head. “Nah. You’re human. A divorce is like a death, and it hits you at weird times. And then with your dad getting hurt...”
“My dad. Yeah.” She looked up through the bright green leaves, filtering the sun and looking like a kaleidoscope. “Did you know Dad’s been shacking up with Cathy Meadows? He moved into her double-wide today. Dad’s gettin’ luckier than I am. How is that fair?”
Dan’s brows shot high up his forehead. “Carl and Cathy? Wow, I...well...yeah, I guess I’ve seen them together a lot lately. But I figured they were friends. How old is your dad?”