Forged by Sacrifice Kindle rev 100519

by Evans, LJ

  I loved that I didn’t have to almost bend myself in half to look down at her. I was six-four. And most of the time, the girls I was with were almost a foot shorter than me, which complicated anything that happened between our bodies. Georgie was—at the most—five inches shorter, standing there barefoot.

  I was staring. I knew I was staring, but I couldn’t help it. I’d had this reaction every damn time I’d met her. Silent. Stalker-like. It was ridiculous.

  “Mac, do you remember my friend Georgie from New York?” Ava asked.

  “I do,” I managed to breathe out, holding out my hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

  Georgie smiled, and I swear to God, there were thunderclouds rolling somewhere when she did it, because that smile was one you were unable to ignore, just like a thunderstorm. The smile lit up her face that was all graceful lines. Smooth. Silky.

  “You’re the one that I wasn’t supposed to be the same again after meeting, right?” Georgie’s voice was light. Graceful, just like her, but infused with a confidence that spoke of life and experience. What hit me harder than her voice was the fact that she remembered our initial meeting, almost word for word, as much as I did.

  She put her long-fingered hand into mine, and I shook it, trying desperately not to run my fingers along the smooth palm and embarrass myself. If her voice had been a thundercloud, her touch was lightning. The kind that left your heart stopped and your skin tingling.

  “And have you?” I asked.

  She frowned. “Have I?”

  “Been the same?”

  She laughed, running a hand through her hair, but didn’t answer. I wanted to think that it was a good sign. That somewhere behind those color-changing eyes, she was as stunned and as glad to see me as I was to see her.

  Georgie

  BROKEN & BEAUTIFUL

  “Can someone just hold me?

  Don't fix me, don't try to change a thing.

  Can someone just know me?

  'Cause underneath, I'm broken, and it's beautiful.”

  Performed by Kelly Clarkson

  Written by Moore / Mcdaid / Mac

  Seeing Mac-Macauley after two years of not seeing him, hit me hard. Almost as hard as when I’d seen him the first two times back in New York City. He was a tall, dark-haired beauty. The kind of gorgeousness that would have fit right in with my boyfriend—or rather, ex-boyfriend—Jared, and all his male model friends. It would also have fit right in with the hotshot finance guys who also frequented my salon and were harder to shake off than the ego-filled models.

  Mac was several inches taller than Jared and much broader.

  His blue eyes flashed at me, and all I could see were warning signs. Signs that said to stay away even though my body almost vibrated with energy when he shook my hand. I’d learned a long time ago not to trust my senses. Bodies were notorious for leading you astray. And I didn’t need astray right now.

  I sat down at the bar, turning away from him. He joined me on the barstool next to mine, our shoulders almost touching. The air flitting between our bodies was like when I’d done an electrical current project in high school. You could almost see the zaps of light. Zaps that I’d never had to deal with when I’d been with Jared. Jared had been smooth, sexy, calming. This was energy that spoke of riling things up versus calming them down.

  “Can I help with something?” I asked Ava.

  She and Eli both shook their heads. “No, we got it. The one drawback of this house is that the kitchen isn’t as large as it could be. Two cooks are about all it can take.”

  “Are you sure you can qualify as a cook?” Mac asked Ava, and I wanted to be offended for my friend, but she just smiled at the virtual magnetic field sitting next to me.

  “I can cook,” she said.

  “But you’re slaughtering those poor tomatoes.”

  Ava laughed—something she did so much more now than when I’d known her in New York. Eli had brought joy to her life. Filled her. It made me happy at the same time I knew I was never going to want that—a man filling my world. A partner like Jared had been perfect for me, moving side by side when needed, going it alone when needed, too. Even though we’d ended things, it hadn’t broken either of us.

  “I’m dicing them,” Ava said.

  “Is that what you call it?” Mac asked her.

  She handed him the knife across the counter. He put down the margarita he’d been drinking, took the knife, and pulled the cutting board she’d been using closer to him. He started cutting the tomatoes with a much gentler hand than I’d expected, and the cuts he made were almost TV-cooking-show perfect, whereas the ones Ava had made had all been smooshed tomato guts.

  It surprised me that he had such a gentle touch.

  I reached for the margarita pitcher because I certainly needed a drink.

  “So, Georgie, what brings you to Texas?” Mac asked, his gaze flitting toward me and away, as if he was as unsure about me as I was of him.

  “I’ll tell if you tell,” I said, winking at him.

  He smiled. “I’m here on vacation. Between gigs.”

  “Me, too.”

  He stopped his slicing to look over at me, surprise on his face. “What happened to the salon?”

  “Sold it,” I responded, and even though selling the shop was what I’d wanted, my chest pulled tight, and tears hit my eyes. It had been incredibly difficult to leave behind my grandmother’s legacy. Leave behind everything I’d known with her. The people. The shop. Our home. She would have wanted it for me as much as I wanted it for myself, but it didn’t make it easier.

  “Wow. I don’t know what to say to that.” Mac’s words drew me back from New York City and my old life to the present. He smiled and said, “I mean, I could ask a gazillion invasive questions, but I have a feeling Ava or Eli might gut me in my sleep if I did.”

  I laughed like he’d expected me to, and when I did, his smile increased, making thoughts of Jared and the salon trail into the sunset.

  “Just ignore him. He has no idea what personal boundaries are,” Eli said from where he was finishing up the spices on the meat he was going to grill for the carne asada tacos they were making.

  “Look. You grow up with a father in the Navy, a grandfather in politics, and three older sisters, and you realize there is no such thing as personal boundaries,” Mac responded with a shrug that caused his shoulder to brush against mine, increasing the awareness that filtered through me.

  Mac was not only tall, but he was also a wall of muscle—like a pro football player. Muscles on top of muscles, but not in a way that made you think Blowfish. Instead, it was tantalizing. His tight T-shirt did nothing to hide any of the contours of his body.

  With the tomatoes done, he pushed the cutting board back toward Ava and got up to wash his hands at the sink. Eli headed for the porch and the barbecue pit, and Mac tagged along with him. I took a gulp of the margarita as I watched the two men banter back and forth on the patio.

  Ava joined me, taking up the barstool Mac had vacated.

  “He’s gorgeous but all swag-and-bag,” Ava said.

  I felt my cheeks heat slightly at being caught gazing at them and turned to her. “Thanks for the warning, but I’m not really into anything more than swag-and-bag.”

  Ava smiled at me. “Well then, swag away.” She waved a hand toward the patio.

  “No,” I chuckled. “That isn’t what I meant. I mean…he’d probably totally be worth a few nights of hot, sweaty, vacation sex, but I’m definitely not looking for even that right now. Besides, I wouldn’t sleep with your and Eli’s friend. It would be…”

  “Awkward,” Ava said just as I finished with, “Ill-advised.”

  “I plan on being around for your wedding, and I definitely don’t want any weirdness to occur between him and me that would leach into that.”

  “So, sweaty sex was definitely on your mind, though.” Ava grinned at me.

  “Well, just
look at him.”

  “You’ve been around a lot of sexy men with Jared and all those fashion gurus in New York. I’m sure Mac’s like, what, a seven or eight, out of all those men?”

  We both stared out at the guys on the patio. They looked in and caught us staring. Eli smiled at Ava. Mac just stared period.

  “I’d say he’s pretty close to a ten.”

  “Really?” Ava sounded surprised. “I feel like Eli is a twenty, and there’s nothing to compare to that.”

  “That’s only because you can’t be objective with all that love potion flowing through you.”

  “Okay, what would you rate, Eli?”

  “An eight or a nine.”

  “That was fast. You’ve thought of my soon-to-be husband in this regard before, I see.” She wasn’t mad at all. She continued, “But I don’t agree.”

  “I know. Again. Not objective.”

  “But you really think that Mac is a higher rating than Eli?”

  “Taller. More muscles. He’s got the eye thing going for him.”

  “Eye thing?”

  “Those blue eyes that I bet look even bluer depending on what he wears. And you know me, I’m a sucker for beautiful eye colors.” I smiled at her, and she pushed my arm.

  “I like your green ones today,” Ava said. The timer let out a shrill noise, and she jumped up to stir the rice that smelled like heaven to me. Chorizo and onions and a scent I wasn’t sure I could name. Ava said it was a secret recipe that Lacey from the bar had given her. I understood. I had a few of my grandma’s recipes that weren’t going to leave our family…or me…anytime soon.

  The air conditioner kicked in, pushing my hair into my lip gloss. I pulled the dark strands away from my face. Leaving the salon behind me, I’d decided to just let my hair go back to its normal color and stopped attempting to hide the white streak I’d had since I was little. It would be too much work to keep it up without the salon. And, truth be told, I was more than a little tired of doing hair—mine or anyone else’s. It had never been my dream. It had been a necessity.

  Letting my hair go au naturel was one thing; my eyes were another. My contact addiction wasn’t going anywhere. For me, it was like putting on the right jewelry with an outfit. I just didn’t feel quite ready until I had the right colored lenses in. I had almost every color they made—and some they didn’t—thanks to my friends in the fashion world. Like the black ones I rarely wore, and the ones that were almost black but were really a dark, dark blue. The bright green ones I’d put in today were one of my favorites. They were close to my real color but with an extra oomph to them.

  I helped Ava bring the food out to the patio, and we placed the bug nets over it all. Even though it was hot and muggy, it still felt good to be out in the summer sunshine with the smell of sea grasses and the sound of the ocean pounding near us. It wasn’t the first time I’d vacationed with Ava and Eli since she had graduated and come back to Texas, but it was the first time I’d vacationed without a desperate need to get back to New York and the salon.

  As we ate out on the deck, the margaritas kept the banter easy and the mood light. Friends catching up after time apart. It was so different from the meals with my friends in the city. The beauticians who had worked for me, and Jared and my fashion friends, had always hung out at high-profile restaurants and bars where the atmosphere was as close to a high pitch as you could get—as if, one more notch higher, and you’d have to duck your head, shielding your ears. I’d loved it: the pace, the noise, the friendships. But I was also ready for a new pace. A new feel.

  After dinner, Ava had to head downtown to the bar she owned. I’d been going with her almost every night since I’d been there, but tonight, I just needed quiet instead of chaos, so I declined. Eli and Mac went with her, and I had the house and the beach to myself.

  I brought a blanket, a book, and the last of the margaritas down to the edge of Ava’s property where she and Eli had built a firepit in the middle of an octagon-shaped wooden deck that hosted a smattering of Adirondack chairs and lounges. The deck was right at the end of the crushed-shell path, tucked in the sea grass just before it broke into the sand. It was a bit of paradise in Texas.

  I read until the stars started to sprinkle the sky like fairy lights being turned on, and then I just sat, staring at the expanse. You never got to see the sky like this in the city. I missed it, and yet, I didn’t. Just like I missed my friends in New York, and I didn’t. The price to keep the salon and that life would have been too high. Not only the price of the new lease the landlord wanted me to sign, but the price of my own dreams that I had this one last chance to make come true.

  As if reading my mood from a continent away, my half-sister, Raisa, texted me.

  RAISA: Are you at the beach yet?

  ME: I’ve been here for two days.

  RAISA: What happened to going to D.C. to check out an apartment?

  ME: I just stayed the one night. The place I got is almost too good to be true.

  I hadn’t planned on flying to D.C. before coming to Texas, but I’d discovered an ad for a loft in an apartment with two other people that I hadn’t wanted to pass up. It was close enough to campus that I could walk, and it wasn’t going to break the bank.

  I’d met with one of the roommates, Daniella, and felt an instant connection. She was sassy and professional all at the same time. The apartment, with its views of the Capitol building, had still seemed too good to be true, but Daniella had said her family liked to rent the loft as a way of helping college students. I liked her and the loft, so I took it for what it was: a gift. I placed a down payment, got a key, and hoped the other roommate, Daniella’s brother, wouldn’t be a total schmuck when I finally got to meet him.

  RAISA: I am a little jealous. I will be stuck in the dorms for a year.

  It wasn’t going to be a hardship. She’d been accepted to Stanford University and was going to be staying in the best dorms they had. My stepdad, Petya, wouldn’t have any less for his daughter.

  ME: While I know you’ll have a blast living in the dorms, the thought of me having to experience it again makes me want to vomit.

  RAISA: We will both be college students.

  It was hard to reconcile the fact that I was going to be in college again. Getting back into law school after the years away had been simultaneously easier and harder than I thought. I was ready to restart the dream I’d put on hold for five years. I was just hoping law school would be different from my first years of college life.

  ME: Not the same. You’ll have everyone drooling over your Russian accent and pretty blonde hair, whereas I’ll be the slightly older woman with her nose in a book.

  RAISA: I have almost no accent. My English is impeccable.

  ME: Out of all that, you chose to focus on what I said about your accent? What happened to making me feel better about going back to school after all these years?

  RAISA: It is you who said age is not a number, it is an attitude.

  ME: I wasn’t the first person to say it, but it’s true.

  RAISA: Then, do not worry about other students. Just have lots of attitude.

  ME: ** Hair flip GIF **

  RAISA: I have to go. Malik is using me as interference with Father again. What will he do when I am in the U.S.?

  ME: Learn to stand up for himself.

  RAISA: Love you, moy dorogoy.

  ME: Love you, too, malyshka.

  Raisa and I were ten years apart and lived on different continents, but we were closer than my half-brother and I. Probably because she’d spent the last few summers with me. Malik didn’t want anything to do with my tiny apartment above the salon. I was going to miss being with Raisa this summer as we both started new lives.

  Shoes crunching on the shell path had me twisting my head. I almost felt the looming shape of Mac before it appeared over the dunes, as if my body had known all along that he’d find me, even after he’d gone downtown with Ava and Eli. />
  He sank down in the chair next to mine, that force-of-nature pull he had on me instantaneously coming back.

  “Were all the single ladies at the bar too smart for your charm?” I asked.

  He snorted, leaning his head on the back of the chair, gazing up into the night sky like I had been. His large body filled the space, and with his legs sprawling out toward the unlit firepit, it caused his knees to careen into mine. I pulled away, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “It was too exhausting tonight,” he responded.

  “Must be pretty bad if you’re too exhausted to schmooze the fairer sex.”

  A soft chuckle escaped his chest. “I’ve just spent two weeks in pretty much solitude on a boat. It takes a little to ease back into the real world.”

  His voice was deep. Barrel deep? Was that the right description?

  “Isn’t it dangerous to sail by yourself?”

  He finally turned his head to look at me, and even in the dim light from the stars and the moon that had finally started to trek across the sky, I could see the flash of humor and more in those eyes.

  “Did Ava tell you to harp on me about it? I swear she’s practicing being a parent before they’re even pregnant.”

  “No. Ava and I don’t talk about you.”

  “So, I’m not a ten?”

  “Wh-what?”

  “A ten. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “You were spying on us out on the deck.” I tried to be offended but couldn’t really be with him smiling like that.

  He grinned. “You weren’t trying to be quiet.”

  I liked how his grin crinkled the corners of his eyes. I liked too much about him. The fact that we would soon be living in the same city was enough to give me heart palpitations, even if the likelihood of our lives overlapping was slim to none.

  “Spying definitely lowers all of your scores by, like, half. So, now you’re barely a five,” I told him.