I don’t do complications. I’m not the type of guy who can stand by a woman’s side through thick and thin. Not when I know I should be on my own.
Still…instinct blares at me to stay. To protect.
But Trina just gives me a nod, and with a sigh, I make my way outside to the line of bikes and passengers waiting for their scoot around the block.
When we get back, Trina and her asshole ex are gone.
Later, I end up driving to the Cedar Grove with the boys, but as soon as I walk in, all I can think about is my evening with Trina in here. The place seems duller, darker without her, and I can’t bear to be here. I turn right around, then freeze.
“Hey, handsome,” Belinda says from the doorway. She’s wearing a tight top that shows off far too much cleavage, and I can’t help comparing it to the classy, effortlessly sexy clothing Trina usually wears. The two of them are like night and day.
“Belinda.” I clear my throat, wondering if I can get outside without speaking to her.
“You never called me after last time I came to see you.” She pouts, and it’s not cute.
I glance over my shoulder at my father and brother, who are most definitely listening to every word. Turning back to Belinda, I sigh. “Can I speak to you outside?”
She gives me a seductive smile, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Of course, big boy,” she purrs.
We walk out into the late afternoon, and I know there’s no excuse now. I need to find the words to get Belinda to leave me alone, once and for all.
If I took even a second to examine that thought, I’d realize that it’s because of Katrina. I’d realize that it’s important to me to cut ties to all other women, as stale and tenuous as they might be.
If I took a moment to admit to myself that what I feel for Trina might not be your run-of-the-mill need for a hard fuck, I might hesitate and lose my nerve. I might retreat and push Trina away.
But I don’t think of any of that.
I look at the woman in front of me. “Belinda, I’ve told you time and time again that it’s not appropriate for us to see each other.”
“My son isn’t even at this school anymore, Mac.” She scoffs, rolling her eyes.
“I’m not interested.” My voice is hard, and Belinda’s face changes in an instant. She goes from sultry and flirty to furiously angry.
Her lips curl down and her eyes grow dark. “Excuse me?”
“I’m just being honest. This has gone on long enough.”
Belinda arches an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? I’ll go to the principal and tell her all about our affair together. You’ll lose your job.”
“Our ‘affair’ was one night after the end of the school year, and it was a mistake.”
She flinches. With a hand on her hip, Belinda purses her lips and shakes her head. “I waited around for you for four years, Mac, and this is how you repay me?”
“I didn’t ask you to do that. I told you I didn’t want to see you anymore.”
“No, Mac. You told me it wasn’t appropriate for us to see each other. You kept me on the hook for years, only to turn around and tell me you don’t want me now that my son is out of your school. You couldn’t have done that four years ago? You couldn’t have been honest with me?” She scoffs, shaking her head as she stares at the sky. “You’re an asshole and a tease, Mac.” Then she turns on her heels and stomps toward her minivan.
I stand rooted to the spot until she’s out of the parking lot and out of sight.
Closing my eyes for a brief moment, I push away the uncomfortable truth in her words. I did dodge her advances for years, if only to avoid awkward confrontation at my work. Maybe it would have been better to be honest—but would I have risked repercussions at work? Would it have blown up in my face?
I did the best I could do at the time. I tried to let her down as gently as I could.
When I get on my bike, though, all thoughts of Belinda get left behind as the wind whips over me. The only thing on my mind is when I’ll get to see Trina again.
13
Trina
I collapse into a sofa in the library above the Four Cups Café. Everyone’s here. Simone is regaling us with a hilarious story about her college boyfriend breaking up with her because he thought she ate too much cheese. Jen is making tea for everyone. Fiona is bustling around throwing a blanket over my legs, tidying a few books that have been left out, overall just acting like a mother hen. Candice is sitting next to me, a quiet, supportive presence.
It’s nice being taken care of. It’s not something I experience very often.
When Jen puts a chamomile tea in my hands, I inhale the scent of the steam and let out a sigh.
“You good?” Simone asks.
I shrug. “As good as can be.”
“I still think you should have refused to let him have the kids tonight,” Candice says as her lips curl downward. “The absolute gall of that man! To barge in here a day early to his planned visitation and turn the kids against you by promising ice cream and fun. He’s going to play ‘Fun Dad,’ and I wouldn’t put it past him to shit-talk you behind your back.”
“I gave in because I want us to have a good co-parenting relationship. If I put up a big fight about one night, then what? We get adversarial and nothing works.”
“The minute he called you a whore, you should have punched him in the throat. Screw good co-parenting when someone verbally abuses you like that.” That harsh comment comes from Fiona, and everyone hums in agreement.
My brows arch. “That’s a particularly violent statement. Have you been hanging out with Agnes lately?”
Fiona laughs. “No, but cheating spouses who then get mad about you moving on to something better hits close to home. He has no right to make you feel bad about what’s going on with Mac.”
“Nothing’s going on with Mac,” I respond, even though after almost a week, I can still feel the taste of his lips on mine.
“What happened after you left the café?” Simone asks.
Stalling for time, I lift my mug to my lips. It’s too hot to drink, and I grimace when I burn the roof of my mouth. Since everyone is still waiting for me to respond, I release a sigh and shrug. “We went back to my place. Kevin booked an AirBnB since his room at the hotel was ‘double-booked.’” Everyone snickers at the comment, and I just shake my head. “When Katie heard his new place had a pool, I’d pretty much already lost the battle.”
“Yep.” Candice nods, lips pinched. “He’s playing ‘Fun Dad.’”
Fiona lets out a disgusted snort. “What an ass.”
“He’s not a bad father. I can’t keep him from seeing the kids. I want them to have a good relationship with him.” I don’t know why I’m defending him. Kevin cheated on me. I found out when I saw tickets to an art gallery opening and thought they were for the two of us, only to discover he was taking his mistress instead. I spent years supporting him while he pursued his passion for painting, and then was left behind when he finally made it.
He never appreciated the work I put in at the start of our marriage to support us, and he definitely didn’t appreciate the work it took to raise two children. He’d stay in his studio until late at night, then reappear and be the World’s Best Dad for a few days.
I don’t know why I put up with it before, and I’m not sure why I’m not as outraged as my friends. Maybe I’m just tired.
“Anyway, it’s fine,” I tell them. “I’ll be able to get some job applications done this weekend.”
“Have you put any thought into starting a stylist business?” Fiona asks, tucking one leg under her butt as she sits down.
I frown. “Well…no. You guys weren’t serious about that, were you?”
Fiona shrugs. “I’d pay you for advice on how to dress. You’re really good at it, Trina.”
I shake my head, dismissing the thought immediately. “No. No, I’ll look for a real job.”
Simone and Candice exchange a glance. Simone gives me a soft smile. “Girl, none
of us here have real jobs. They’re overrated, anyway.”
My heart thumps, but striking out on my own and doing something related to fashion is just too much for me. It’s too far out of my comfort zone. What happened this morning with Kevin has me reeling, and the thought of starting a business when my life is in such upheaval? I shake my head. “I’m not… I don’t… I wouldn’t even know where to start.”
“Start small,” Simone says. “With me or Fiona—”
“Or me,” Candice cuts in.
“—and figure out how you’d structure your services. Then just start a social media page and boom. You’re in business.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that simple.”
Fiona tilts her head. “Why not?”
“Because…” I drift off, then frown. I know it’s not that simple, but I can’t quite think of all the reasons. Because…the kids! The divorce! Because I couldn’t possibly do something like that all on my own…could I? Close to panic, I look at all their expectant faces. “Can we talk about something else, please?”
“What’s going on with you and Mac?” Jen arches her brows, kicking her legs up onto the coffee table.
I groan.
Candice laughs. “Atta girl, Jen. On to more important things.” My sister turns to me with an expectant look on her face. “So? Has Mac called you since this morning? That entrance, my God. I wish we could have recorded it.”
I bite my lip. “No, he hasn’t called.”
“We should go to the Grove,” Simone says, brightening. She puts her mug down on the coffee table and looks at each of us in turn. “Allie is with Clancy and Grant at your place,” she says to Fiona and Candice. “And Jen, you’re done baking for the day.”
Jen frowns. “I still need to—”
“You’re done baking for the day, Jen,” Simone cuts in. “Have you seen how many baked goods are overflowing from their containers down there? Amanda can’t possibly expect you to do more.”
“The lemon meringue pie recipe isn’t quite right, though, and—”
“Jen.” Simone lowers her brows.
I clear my throat. “Look, it’s fine. I’m not sure going to the Grove is a good idea. I shouldn’t be seeing Mac anyway—”
“Why not?” Fiona screeches, sitting up on her armchair. “Why the hell not, Trina?”
“He’s…” I trail off, not really knowing what to say. I flap my hands around a bit as if that’ll explain things. “I’m… It’s too soon.”
“Bullshit.” Simone stands up and gathers everyone’s mugs. “Let’s go.”
My protests fall on deaf ears. We stumble down the stairs together and spill onto the sidewalk, only to pause when we hear the sound of a couple of loud engines.
Two motorcycles come rumbling down Cove Boulevard, the main street through the center of Heart’s Cove. My heart leaps, then I let out a surprised laugh when I see the passengers on the back of the two roaring bikes.
Dorothy’s silver hair streams behind her from under her helmet, her oversized leather jacket making her look massive on the back of Mac’s bike. She’s holding onto him tight, her face split open with a smile. But it’s Margaret that surprises me. She’s on the back of Hamish’s bike, holding onto him just as close, a high, bright flush on her cheeks.
The men stop their bikes in front of us as the ladies dismount. Dorothy lets out a squeal. “Again! Again!”
Mac just laughs, then lets his gaze slide to me. His lips tip up at the corners. “Hey.”
Why did my clothes just suddenly get rougher? I can feel every fiber of fabric scratching me, every scrap of material abrading my too-sensitive skin. “Hi.”
My gaze darts to Margaret, who’s still blushing as Hamish helps her with the clasp of her helmet. “That was lovely, Hamish.”
“The pleasure was all mine.” His eyes are soft as he responds.
I exchange a glance with Candice, who hides a smile behind her hand. Margaret’s husband passed away years ago, and I’ve never seen her flirt with anyone. It’s nice to see.
Mac takes a step toward me, and my whole body reacts. How does he manage to move like that? Grace and strength in every inch of his body. With his helmet under his arm, he combs his fingers through his hair and nods toward his motorcycle. “Want a ride?”
More than anything.
The thought pops into my head before I can stop myself, and my lips drop open. I suck in a breath and release it slowly, trying to figure out how to put my feelings into words.
Yes, I want to press my thighs against Mac’s and wrap my arms around his torso. I want to feel the warmth of his body at my chest and let him guide me around every bend in the road as the sun sets over the ocean. I want him to take me somewhere private and kiss me silly, if only to forget about my horrible, awful, terrible day and the fact that I don’t have my kids tonight.
But I shouldn’t.
Kevin was a jerk, but he was also right. What if I’m getting involved with Mac too soon? I should be focused on my kids, preparing for the school year, finding a job.
But Mac’s eyes slide down my body, taking in the tight jeans and the draped, loose-fitting tee that exposes one of my shoulders. There’s heat in his honey-colored eyes that I can’t ignore, and I find myself speaking.
“Yeah,” I hear myself say. “I’d like that.”
I’m rewarded with the sexiest grin I’ve ever seen. Mac’s full lips curl up at the corners as his eyes glimmer, the crinkles at their corners deepening. It should be illegal to be that sexy. With dark jeans, his leather jacket, his motorcycle boots, and hair that looks like it would feel good to run my fingers through, is there any wonder I agreed?
And before I can change my mind, Candice’s hands appear on my shoulders. She not-so-gently nudges me closer to the sexy motorcycle man in front of me as Mac extends a helmet.
I glance over my shoulder to see Simone giving me a big thumbs-up. So, with a sigh and one last look at Margaret and Hamish, whose heads are still angled close together, I turn to Mac and nod. “Let’s do it.”
His grin widens to a smile, and a thunderbolt hits me right in the middle of the chest. Way, way too sexy for his own good. It should be illegal.
Helmet fitted over my head, and Dorothy’s oversized leather jacket—which I discover is actually Mac’s—over my shoulders, I swing my leg over Mac’s bike and shimmy forward, sliding my hands around his waist. This time, I don’t hesitate. It feels all too natural to have my arms around his waist and my cheek pressed up against his shoulder.
“Hold on tight,” he reminds me, and I can’t quite hide my smile as I turn to rest my chin on his shoulder and let him take me away.
When Mac finally stops the bike, I feel like I just ran a marathon. My blood is heated, my arms sore from squeezing him so hard, and my thighs permanently branded with the feel of his legs against them. There’s something intensely erotic about being on a bike with him, feeling the roar of the engine between my legs, knowing I’m completely at Mac’s mercy.
He took us around bends, on the highway, and wove through the forest until we got to a familiar lookout point above the Pacific Ocean. I stumble off the motorcycle and giggle, giddy with adrenaline as I remove my helmet and take a deep breath.
“Better?” Mac asks, studying my smile as if he wants to remember it. As if he’d never get sick of looking at me.
I nod. “Much better.”
“Your ex is an asshole.”
A surprised laugh falls from my lips. I clap my hand over my mouth and shake my head. “You shouldn’t say that.”
“Why not?” He takes a step toward me, grabbing the helmet from my hands to rest it on the motorcycle seat. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
I shrug, turning to the ocean crashing at the foot of cliffs below, if only to avoid his piercing gaze. “I… I don’t know. I don’t like bad-mouthing people.”
“Even if they deserve it? Even if they insult you in a room full of people? Even if they say things that no man should ever
say to a woman?”
I bite my lip and ignore how much his words affect me. When was the last time a man actually defended me like that? Actually cared?
Mac meets my gaze for a moment, then angles his head toward the edge of the parking lot, where a small shed-like building stands.
My eyes light up. “Ice cream!” Then I laugh, because I had the exact same response to the treat as my seven-year-old daughter.
Mac, smooth as anything, intertwines his fingers with mine (swoon!) and leads me across the lot. There’s an old couple in front of us who order with expert precision, and I wonder how many times they’ve gotten ice cream together. Then Mac steps up and leans a muscled forearm against the chest-height counter.
The young girl behind the counter arches her brows, color rising high on her cheeks at the sight of the man in front of her. “Wh-what can I get for you, Mr. Blair?”
Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me that she knows him. Mac flashes a smile. “Hi Kaylee. How has your summer been?”
“Really good, but my arm is pretty sore from scooping.” The girl lets out a little giggle, her cheeks turning a brighter shade of red. I bite my lip. It’s cute seeing her reaction, but I’m glad I’m no longer a young teenager. She points to the buckets of ice cream in front of her. “What would you like?”
“Double-scoop waffle cone. One scoop cookies ’n’ cream, one scoop double-chocolate brownie blast. Trina?” He looks at me.
I step up and hesitate, even though I know exactly what I want. I grin at Mac, feeling like a little girl again. “Butter pecan, please.”
“One scoop or two?” The girl is already putting Mac’s cone together with a few expert movements, dunking her scoop into a jug of milky-looking water between each new mound of ice cream.
“Oh, what the hell. Two. In a waffle cone as well, please.”
At my words, Mac’s lips tug. He slides his hand around my waist and gives me a squeeze.
My smile widens, and I duck my head to hide it. I haven’t been out for ice cream in a long, long time, and for the past few years it’s always been with kids in tow. Kevin would always click his tongue if I got more than one scoop, and he’d grumble at the extra dollar for a waffle cone.
Dirty Little Midlife Disaster: A Motorcycle Hottie Romantic Comedy (Heart’s Cove Hotties Book 4) Page 10