by Cathryn Cade
RaeAnn shrugged. “Okay, then. Fine.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Mac was pretty damn pleased with the house to which he was bringing RaeAnn.
He'd scored the place as a rental the winter before.
His old double-wide had begun to disintegrate, and the last time his son had stayed there, he'd complained that there was a weird smell coming from the floor in his bedroom.
Upon removing the siding protecting the crawlspace under the trailer, Mac had been disgusted to discover a dead cat. Poor thing must’ve crawled in there to get warm during the winter, and not mustered the strength to leave.
In any case, there was also a puddle of dirty ice that he suspected of coming from the toilet, which had been sluggish since the winter turned cold.
Both were the impetus he needed to get out of the place.
He'd debated replacing it with a newer double wide. He could now afford to do that on his wages as an SFD paramedic with some years of experience under his belt.
But then a house on Elm, a few streets over, became available, and someone mentioned it to him. Mac went by to have a look and was pleasantly surprised not only by the solid construction and amenities such as dishwasher, two bathrooms and a double garage, but also by a fenced backyard with a patio big enough to house a gas grill and picnic table.
He'd talked to the owners, who had moved out of state but didn't want to sell in case they came back.
They settled on a fair rent, with a damage deposit that cost a whack, and he and Con moved in that weekend. With the help of the Flyers, of course.
They all celebrated that evening with an impromptu housewarming party of pizza and beer from The Hangar, with the addition of salads and wine for the old ladies.
Connor had asked if he could invite his mother, and with a shrug Mac had said, "Sure, why not?"
He wasn’t seeing anyone at the moment, but even if he had been, plenty of people partied with their exes in the mix. Although if RaeAnn showed up with her suit, he might rethink.
Connor had returned shortly shaking his head, saying his mom was busy.
Mac had been disappointed she wasn’t coming, but pleasantly surprised to receive a text from her the next day, saying she was sorry to miss seeing his new place, and she hoped he liked it.
She offered no explanation for where she'd been and he wouldn't ask if his ass was on fire and her answer was the only way to put it out. After seeing her with another guy in Spokane a few years ago, he’d kept his mind off her possible sex life as much as possible.
But now, nearly a year and a half later, he was not nervous, because he was a Flyer, he goddamn well did not do nervous, but a little on edge as he watched Rae doing her first walk through of his place. Would she deem it acceptable, or a bachelor dump that she was gonna have to upgrade?
But after poking her head in all of the rooms she turned to him and nodded. "This is nice, Mac. And I love your leather sofa. Is that new?"
He squinted self-consciously. "Uh, yeah. Con and I went and bought that couple of weeks ago. Friend of mine helped us out. She works at the furniture store, knows what's good quality for a good price."
Rae’s smile slipped. "Oh, right. That's nice."
He wanted to grin, but controlled himself. Either she was a little bit jealous or he'd chew up his cut for supper.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Good to have friends in the business. Her husband is a buddy of mine from way back. We went through EMT training together."
Watching her closely, Mac didn't miss the way she perked up at this. Although, being Rae, she was fighting to remain unconcerned.
He smiled to himself. Yeah, he could still read her. And he had her close now. Plenty of time to work on his prickly, but sweet-to-the-core, little blonde.
Not to rile her up just because he could, the way he hadn’t been able to resist over the years, but to sweeten her up.
He wanted him some more sweet, caramel RaeAnn goodness.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Rae did like Mac's place. She was kind of sorry it was just a rental, because it seemed the perfect place for him and Con—on a nice comfortable street, the kind where the neighbors wouldn't mind Mac and his friends coming and going on their loud motorcycles. Close to the highway to get into Spokane to Mac’s job. And not far from his beloved Flyers' clubhouse.
The exterior was painted a soft green with cream trim. Inside, walls and ceilings were a generic cream, the floor and carpeting a dark tan.
The house was not big, but it was well laid out, with a kitchen, great room, laundry room/mud room, and half bath on the main floor and three bedrooms upstairs, with two full bathrooms.
The kitchen suited the space, with a big, L–shaped island, a sink under the window looking out over the backyard, and cupboards crafted of natural wood. She thought they were maple.
The refrigerator, dishwasher, and stove all looked fairly new. That was nice—she was tired of dealing with outdated appliances like those in her rental house in Spokane.
She really hadn’t expected Mac’s place to be so new and well kept.
Mac tried to talk her into taking the biggest bedroom upstairs, the master suite with its own bathroom.
At first, Rae shook her head firmly. "No, this is your place, and your things are already in there. You keep it. I'll be just fine in one of the other bedrooms."
Mac gave her a look that said she needed to use her head. "Mama, you're going to be living with two guys. We leave the seat up on the toilet. We forget to hang up our towels. We drop our dirty shorts on the floor and leave 'em. And most of all, if you have your own bathroom, you won't have to put a robe on every time you have to pee in the middle of the night. And, I know for a fact you have a lot more clothes and shoes than I do."
He gave her a coaxing smile dipping his head to peer into her eyes. "Please? Just take it."
RaeAnn nearly smiled back at him, because that's what a woman did when Mac Carson turned that look on her. And for once, he seemed to want to do something nice for her, no strings attached.
There was just one problem.
“No,” she repeated, frowning at him.
He spread his arms wide, giving her an ‘are you nuts?’ look. “Why?”
“Because,” she said through her teeth. “I am not sleeping in a bed where you’ve had sex with twenty-five other women!”
His head went back in shock. But then a slow smile lit his hazel eyes. One that made her realize she’d made a tactical error.
Oh, damn it—she’d just let him know she cared about all the women he’d been with.
He ignored her glare, shaking his head. “Babe. There’ve been no other women in that bed, or the room. Swear on my cut.” He clapped his right hand over the left side of his chest, in the region of his heart.
Well. At least the mattress wouldn’t have mystery stains she had to wonder about.
“Okay," she said stiffly. "Thank you. In that case, I’ll take it, while I’m here."
It would be, she had to admit, a relief to have the walk-in closet in the master. She had already been planning how she would store her plastic tubs of out-of-season clothing and shoes in the attic. Now she wouldn't have to do that.
"Anything for you, mama," Mac told her, that little smile still on his face. She wanted to slap it off. "I know it's not an easy thing for you, picking up and moving out here like this. Want you to know I appreciate that. We'll make this work. You'll see."
Rae nodded stiffly. But she wondered what he meant by that.
How did he think they were going to make this work—cohabiting in peace, while leading their own lives, or... something more?
Her heart skipped a beat as she considered what more might look like.
She watched him walk away. Mac was 42 now, instead of 27. But he was still as hot as he'd ever been... maybe even more so.
Or maybe she was just more susceptible to him these days. It had only been a matter of months since her last relationship with benefits, but
it felt like a long, long dry spell.
At her age, she was in her sexual prime, and she liked sex, a lot. She had her vibrator, but she missed being held in a man’s arms, the thrust of a strong, hard body between her thighs, the scent of a man’s skin, and cuddling after sex.
She wondered how long it had been for Mac and then shook her head.
Jesus, she had to stop thinking about him and sex—and especially not him and her and sex.
That way lay craziness.
September 16-17th
But making up her mind to ignore Mac, and doing so, were two very different things.
For the next two days—the extent of the time RaeAnn had been able to take off from Brilliance—Mac seemed to be always around his house.
Watching soccer with Con on the big screen in the sitting area and sending her smiles as she puttered around the kitchen, putting away her herbs and spices, and organizing the pots and pans.
Helping her fold laundry and holding up her lace panties with an admiring smile.
Grilling steaks for all of them while Con did homework at the kitchen island and she baked potatoes and poured a bag of salad into a bowl.
Complimenting her on how nice the place looked with her throw pillows on the leather furniture.
He was trying to drive her crazy. He must be.
She found herself constantly aware of him. Of how he moved, how he smiled, how he laughed. Of habits she remembered, such as running his fingers through his hair repeatedly when he was thinking. Of his roguish grin that promised sin and decadence. Of his cocky saunter, the way he inhabited the space he moved through, in a way that made women take a second look.
But now, his cockiness was tempered with the ability to laugh at himself.
Also, his roguish grin seemed more likely to be aimed at elderly women now, like the small, white-haired one they met at the grocery store on Monday afternoon.
Mac gave her a hug, a kiss on the cheek, and introduced Rae to her with an air of pride. “Myrt, this is RaeAnn Denton. Rae, this silver fox is my former neighbor, Myrt Weingart. I miss seein’ her everyday.”
The woman shook her head. “Like he can’t travel two streets over any time he wants to see me.”
“Not the same,” Mac insisted. “Although Rae and I will do that.”
Myrt’s gaze sharpened, and she raised her brows at Rae. “You two are together, huh? You any relation to that handsome boy of his?”
“I’m his mother.”
Myrt nodded and put out a hand. “Well now. I am pleased to meet you. You come visit me anytime.”
Rae took her thin, gnarled hand and received a warm squeeze and a smile. She smiled back. “Thank you, Myrt. I will—we will.”
Mac beamed. “See you, Myrt. Call if you need anything, you hear?”
“I will, hon. Go on and get your groceries now.”
Rae gave Mac a sidelong look as they walked away. “What?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Just surprised you know any women over thirty, that’s all.” Ha, score.
He assumed a wounded look. “I know plenty of older ladies.”
“Pfft. Name two more.” She selected two packages of fresh pasta and tossed them in the cart.
“You think I can’t? Let me school you, mama. Sara Vanko, club president’s wife. I patched her up after she was attacked one time. She’s over 30. And then there’s Velvet Schmidt, club grandma - Connor’s one of her favorites. Wanda, runs the Heights Motel, real nice woman, likes to play cards.”
He raised his brows at her. “Want me to go on? No? How ‘bout some of this pasta sauce, it’s Con’s favorite.” He pulled a couple of jars of marinara from the shelf and set them in the cart while Rae stared at him, processing what he’d said.
“You ‘patch up’ people in your club?” she asked faintly. As in sew them up and bandage their wounds?
He took the front edge of the cart and tugged, urging her along the aisle. “Sure do. You want some steak or chicken tonight? I’m grilling.”
“I don’t care.” She watched him select a package of each and add them to their cart. She was still stuck on the mysterious injuries of Flyers and their old ladies.
He gave her a questioning look, and she shook her head, struggling to find words. “It’s just… you have this whole life that I know nothing about. Not that I want all the details, of course. I mean that’s your business, not mine. I just don’t… feel we know each other anymore.”
She might not need to know details, but she was curious. All she really knew about Mac’s life were things Con let drop, but those were mainly details like ‘Dad bought a new truck’, or ‘Dad and I worked on his Harley this weekend, it’s so cool’.
Mac smiled faintly. “Anything you wanna know, mama, just ask. I’m an open book. Matter of fact, we need to talk, maybe tonight after supper.”
“About what?” Was this more of whatever plan made him smile when he looked at her? They walked on, toward the produce section.
“The club, our place in the community here, things like that. Don’t want you to misstep, or be caught short.”
“O-kay.” She’d listen—she was wildly curious, may as well admit it. She shook her head and looked around at the fresh produce.
She’d better focus, or they’d be here all afternoon. “We need salad greens, tomatoes, some of those green beans, and cucumber. Oh, and carrots—grab a pack of those baby ones, Con likes them.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Too bad the rest of her day was not destined to go so well.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
September 17th
Rae didn’t intend to quit her job—just take a couple of days off.
But when Mac was called in to cover a shift for a sick co-paramedic, leaving her to put away the groceries and make lunch for the three of them before he left, she decided she needed at least an extra day to get settled in.
She also had to get Con enrolled in his new school. He would be attending high school in the small, neighboring town of Cheney, as the Cheney SD encompassed Airway Heights and the surrounding rural area.
But when she called Britt at home to tell her what had happened and what she needed, the salon owner reacted, and not in a good way. "You have clients lined up every day this week," the woman snapped. "What do you expect me to do about them? Pull another stylist out of my ass?"
"Of course not," Rae said, shocked and offended. Her grip tightened on her phone. "I'll call them myself. Chayna can take a few of them, if they don't mind. The others I will have to reschedule."
"Brilliance clients expect us to honor the appointments they’ve made," Britt replied. "And I expect my stylist to take care of them. You either show up for your shift tomorrow morning, or don't bother coming back at all."
Rae stared blankly at Mac's kitchen. "You mean... You would fire me, when none of this is my fault?"
"That's right," Britt said. "So what's it going to be?"
Rae stood straight and tall—well, as tall as was possible for a 5'4" woman in bare feet.
"I'll tell you what it's going to be," she said in as calm a voice as she could manage. "I will be in sometime tomorrow afternoon to get my things, and you can give me a check for what I'm owed. And then, I am done."
She ended the call with a jab of her thumb on the phone screen and then stood there, a hand over her face.
What had just happened?
Her entire life was falling apart around her, all thanks to a gang of little creeps with big egos and foul minds. What next? What the ever-living hell next?
The thud of footsteps announced Connor's arrival in the kitchen. "You okay, mom?" he asked.
RaeAnn lowered her hand and shook her head. "No, not really. I just... I just lost my goddamn job."
Conner made a 'Whoa!' face, probably because he heard her swear only on very rare occasions, usually when she cut herself on a sharp kitchen knife or dropped something on her foot.
Then he scowled. "Seriously? What the hell! That bitch is
lucky you and Chayna are so nice. If it was up to her, she'd scare all the customers away, with that Morticia face of hers."
Rae was so taken aback by his instant defense of her, she didn't have the heart to reprimand him for his language. She gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks, kiddo."
"Chayna's gonna be pissed," he predicted, shaking his head. "Now she'll be working alone with Morticia."
Rae sighed. This was true. And she would miss Chayna, too.
Also, now on top of everything else, she had to find a new job. Somewhere that wasn't too far to commute from Airway Heights.
She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed. She seriously needed a glass of wine.
Footsteps thudding heralded Mac jogging down the stairs, already clad in his navy scrubs and EMT jacket. He smiled when he saw her and Connor.
"Hey, lunch ready?" he asked. Then he frowned. "What's the matter? What's going on?"
"Mom just got fired," Connor said. "That's what. That bitch fired her just because she wanted to take some time off."
"Ah, babe." Cooler moved around the counter toward Rae, arms outstretched.
She held up her own hand, palms out. "Uh, would you mind not touching me in those clothes?" She didn’t want any traces of strangers’ bodily fluids on her from his jacket.
"These are clean," he told her, not pausing in his trajectory. “Jackets and all get washed at nuclear temps.”
He moved in close, trapping her between the counter and his hard, warm body.
Rae found herself enfolded in a hug and despite the turmoil it caused inside her, it felt good, as only Mac's hugs could. The man might be irritating beyond belief and cocky as all hell, but he gave great hugs.
As he had the day her car was defaced, he wrapped his arms around her and held her firmly against his hard, warm body and rocked gently, side to side.
Her face ended up against his throat inside the collar of his jacket, and her nose was squished in the crook of his strong neck and shoulder. And when she breathed in, it was all Mac, all freshly showered warm, virile Mac.
"Sorry she fired you," he told her, his breath warm against her ear, which was bared by her messy bun. "Want me to ride down there and put the fear of God into that skinny, cold-ass bitch?"
