by Molly Greene
Mack came to stand beside her. “I like that boy.” He snaked an arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze, then pecked her unbruised cheek.
“I’ve seen everything now,” Gen said. “I thought teenagers were a bunch of hermitty online gamers and couch potatoes.”
“Not all of them.”
“Look at that scene out there, Mack. I’m starting to get the picture. All three of them showed up in need and you took them in. Is that what happened with me, too?” She glanced aside in time to see his mouth quirk.
“I don’t think of you as an adopted daughter, if that makes you feel any better,” he replied. “But everything comes into your life for a reason.”
Gen waited for more, but he didn’t add to it. She wondered about the reason for their meeting, other than the obvious. She liked him – a lot – and she was definitely lusting after his body.
“I’m working on a project in the garage,” he said. “Why don’t you take that ice and go relax on the sofa for a while? Order a movie from Netflix. How about Under the Tuscan Sun? An Italian chick flick. Perfect choice for everything that’s going on. Which I want to hear about, by the way, but I need to finish something up first.”
“I want to come with you.”
“Best thing for that shiner is to rest and keep cold on it for half an hour.”
“I can do that while I see what you’re working on.”
He shrugged and led the way outside. When they passed the garden, Gen lowered the cold pack and raised her free hand in greeting and Luca returned it. He did a double-take when he saw the eye, but he didn’t comment or get up. Not much of a talker, that one. Stella rose to her feet and shook, dislodging bits of grass, then lumbered over to welcome her.
Mack pushed open the door to the detached garage and flicked a switch on the wall. Overhead, banks of fluorescent light bars lit up the space. The walls were finished with gypsum board, then hung with spans of perforated Masonite that held individual tools hooked in position. There was space between each tool, and the outline of what belonged where was rendered in pencil behind it.
It was the first time Gen had been in his work room. She was impressed. Everything had its place, and there was no doubt exactly where that was. Maybe she shouldn’t let him see her closet yet; he’d be appalled at her own lack of organizational skill.
A sturdy table anchored the near half of the room, and atop it sat an unfinished metal figure. A welding torch and tools were at the ready.
Okay, news flash.
Mack was a metal sculptor.
“Here I am, an open book,” Gen said, “but every time I turn around, I learn something new about you.”
“I told you Jimmy taught me to weld,” he replied. “I started to dabble in stuff like this a while back.”
Gen dropped the vegies on a countertop, then went to admire Mack’s work-in-progress up close. “I’d say you’re beyond dabbling. Those pieces in the house are yours?”
“Yes.”
“They’re beautiful, Mack. You’re really good.” She turned around and fisted her hands on her hips. “I’m betting you sell your stuff. That’s how you knew Damien Fleur, am I right? You’re deeper into the art clique than you’ve let on.”
Damien Fleur was a well-known San Francisco painter. She and Mack had run into one another at a gallery show he’d held last June. Mack was with his previous girlfriend at the time, and the sight of them together definitely sparked the green-eyed monster in Gen.
“It never came up, Genny.”
Sure it did. Mack just wasn’t one to toot his own horn. “So tell me now,” she said.
“I sell a few pieces. I like doing the work, and it helps put a little money aside.” He handed her the ice pack and pointed at her mug.
That was all she was going to get out of him for now.
Gen pressed the bag to her face, then moved away to amble around the room. The garage was composed of two bays. The first was his metal-working studio. The second, where she stood now, housed a car that was cloaked in a canvas cover. Only the wheels were visible.
Mack walked up behind her. “Jimmy’s favorite thing in the world.”
“What is it?”
He flipped the material back to reveal the hood of a shiny, cherry-red sedan. “1969 Camaro.” His voice was husky, almost reverent. He brushed an invisible fleck of dust from the windshield, then cut his eyes to her. “We’ll take it out for a drive sometime, if you want.”
She nodded. “I’d love that.”
He flicked the cover in place and walked away, leaving Gen to wonder what else he hadn’t shared with her yet. Like much of his past, Mack kept the things he cared about shrouded from view.
* * *
Two hours later Mack fired up his big-boy grill, and Luca took that as a sign to quit. He rose from the last patch of weeds in the far corner of the garden and headed for the shower.
Gen left the window and went out onto the wide back porch and ran her fingers down Mack’s arm. “What’s your plan?”
“Rib-eyes and grilled zucchini and corn on the cob.”
“Want me to slice the squash?”
“Sure. How’s the eye?”
“It smarts.”
He tried not to laugh. “I bet it does.”
“Like I said earlier, a good belt of whiskey would help, but I’ll settle for a glass of wine.”
“Pick whatever you want. I’ll join you and we can cut up the grilling stuff and wait for the coals.”
They were sipping and slicing when Luca came back into the room. His hair was wet and slicked back and he was wearing a pair of clean Levis and one of Mack’s faded t-shirts.
“Hey you,” Gen said.
“Hey,” the kid replied. “I hope you didn’t get that because of me.”
“Nah. I got it because I’m not very clever. Where’d you learn your way around a garden?”
“My grandfather. My Mom’s Dad. He could grow anything. I spent a lot of time with him when I was a kid. Before we moved to Jersey.”
“He’s Italian?” Mack asked.
Luca nodded.
“I bet you miss your Grandpa,” Mack said.
Luca nodded again. When he turned to Gen and changed the subject, she figured he didn’t want to go into it. “So how’d you get the eye?”
“I was dumb,” Gen replied. “I found the house, and I found the man in it. His name is Vincenzo Vitelli. He was tied up and I was stupid and got smacked because I didn’t check around to see if anybody stayed behind to keep an eye on him. So the argument you saw last night must have escalated.”
“Tied up?” Luca’s frown deepened.
“Duct taped to a chair. He’s fine, though.”
“Damn.” Luca looked away. “That’s a bummer.” His eyes swung back to her and he licked his lips. “I’m sorry I got you messed up in this. I should have just kept quiet about the coin.”
“Forget about it. It wasn’t your doing. Turns out Vitelli’s an importer of less-than-perfect reputation.” Gen pulled a juice glass from a shelf and poured a shot of wine into it, then handed it to the boy. “To the man who tamed Mackenzie Hackett’s wilderness,” she said, and raised her glass. “Cheers.”
Their glasses clinked together.
It turned out Mack grilled the best steak she’d ever eaten, and the home-grown vegetables he’d brushed with butter and grilled alongside them were the icing on the cake.
Luca stood with the cook and watched, asking questions about how long the meat should stay on one side before he flipped it, and how to know when the vegies were done. Mack gave him the tongs and showed him when to turn the corn and how to test for doneness.
After dinner Luca tried to slip into his room, but Mack wasn’t going for it. “Come on, don’t go in there and hide. We’re just going to chill and watch a flick.”
He didn’t ask which movie, just came out with his hands in his pockets and slouched into a chair. Mack spread an old comforter on the floor in front of the big scree
n and piled extra blankets on top, then tossed down a half dozen pillows. “Try that,” he said. “Best seat in the house.”
Luca stretched out. Five minutes later, he reached for the pillows and pulled a blanket over him and made himself comfortable. “What are we going to watch?” he asked.
“Under the Tuscan Sun,” Mack replied. Gen knew he was teasing, but the kid stayed quiet.
“Don’t tell me you’re okay with that,” she finally said.
“My Mom taught me when you’re a guest in somebody’s house, you don’t complain.”
Mack and Gen burst out laughing. “Mack was just kidding,” she said. “He’s more of a Terminator type of guy. Or Alien. How about you?”
Luca tipped his head back and looked at them upside down. “I like old movies, myself.”
“You mean like Gregory Peck?” Gen asked.
“Especially in To Catch a Thief,” Luca replied.
Mack raised his eyebrows. “Want to watch it again?”
“Sure.”
So they did.
* * *
Luca was sound asleep long before the movie was over. Gen and Mack were spread out on the couch with their heads at opposite ends. When the credits rolled, Gen got up and went into the bedroom, then brushed her teeth in the attached bath and went back out to kiss Mack goodnight.
He’d already nudged Luca awake and shooed him off to bed and was spreading a sheet and the comforter over the sofa. “You got everything you need?” he asked.
“Everything but you.”
He wrapped her in his arms and brushed his lips across her neck. “Have I apologized enough?”
“I told you. We have time.”
“That’s no comfort right now.”
She hugged him tight, then pulled away. “I’m going to bed.”
“I need to grab some pants to sleep in. I’ll stop by in a jiff.”
“You know where to find me.”
He knocked five minutes later, then cracked the door and whispered. “You decent?”
“Yes.”
Mack came in and opened a drawer and got what he needed, then moved to the bed and lay down beside her, on top of the covers. He smoothed her hair away from her face tenderly, then held it back with his hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.
Then he kissed her, thoroughly and well.
Five minutes later he raised his head. “Want me to stay?”
“Oh yes. Yes, I do. But the walls have ears. And I’d be listening for sounds the whole time.”
“Okay then.” His lips covered hers again, then he lifted himself on an elbow. “Genny.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I asked you to get involved.”
“Don’t be. I’m all right. If nothing else, it was a good lesson. And there’s something going on.”
“Maybe you should let it go. I can probably find a way to look into in and keep it quiet.”
“No way. I’m motivated now. Looks like the only way we’re going to get our privacy back is to get the kid un-involved and find him permanent lodgings someplace else.”
Mack chuckled. “If that’s the way you feel, then it’s time you learned to defend yourself. The stun gun isn’t enough. Have you considered going down to Stan’s, maybe get into a couple of his self-defense classes?”
“Great minds think alike.”
“Good.” He gave her one last smooch, then got off the bed. “I want you to be around for a long time. I’d like it better if you were in one piece and all your parts worked.”
When Mack left and closed the door behind him, she sighed and punched up the pillow, wishing she’d let him stay. She felt sorry for the kid, but he was cramping her style.
Chapter Eight
Gen awakened early and couldn’t get back to sleep, so she finally gave in and pulled on sweats and a t-shirt. She was the first one up. Stella came out of the living room and followed her when she tiptoed to the kitchen.
Mack had set up the coffee pot the night before, so she poured in a carafe of water and watched the birds flitting among the tomato plants in Luca’s newly-turned soil.
When it was ready, she poured a cup and went outside with the dog. The sun was just above the eastern horizon. A light breeze ruffled the few remaining stalks of corn.
From the first time they’d met, Mack had struck Gen as the kind of guy who’d want to get dirt under his fingernails now and then, a place he could hang a hammock and look at the view under the stars.
So the fact that he lived way out in Piedmont hadn’t surprised her all that much. It was quiet. No traffic noise, no honking, no shouted conversations in the street. The peace was amazing, she had to admit. Gen sat on the porch and took it all in, wondering if she’d get bored here.
If she and Mack worked out, that is.
Roly emerged from the open shed door and sidled over to rub against her leg. “Hey kitty.” Gen stroked the cat, then swallowed the rest of the coffee and stood, stretched, and went back inside.
It was a great time to go for a walk. And less than ten minutes later, that’s exactly what she was doing.
She’d left her socks and trainers by the bed; all she had to do was slip them on and tuck the pepper spray she kept in the toe of one shoe into her bra. Stella’s leash hung on a hook by the back door, and she took it down and rushed her out to the porch so her excitement wouldn’t wake the rest of the house.
“Let’s go, Stel.” Gen clipped one end to her collar and the dog led the way around the house to the side gate, then on to Skyline Drive. They turned north along the street and Stella walked beside her, not pulling, just happy to be out.
“Show me the way.”
Stella looked up with her tongue hanging and pure joy in her eyes, then lowered her gaze and matched Gen’s stride as she picked up the pace.
An opening appeared between two lots. The dog nudged her into Joaquin Miller Park, a big public recreation area that backed right up to Mack’s property. It was early on a Sunday morning, and not many people were out yet. They had the place almost to themselves. She let Stella off the leash, then danced along the trail in the strengthening sunlight and swung her arms with pleasure as she watched her companion cavort across the grass.
Yeah, life is good.
They were gone for over an hour, and she was laughing and famished by the time they walked through the side gate and into the yard. Gen unleashed the dog again and she hit the huge stainless steel bowl of water Mack kept full by a hose bib beneath the porch.
She left Stella lapping furiously and walked up the steps to the back door. She stopped there, one hand on the knob, and looked in.
Mack was in the kitchen. She could hear the strains of a bluesy tune that streamed, low but insistent, from an ancient radio on the counter by the sink. Each section of the Sunday paper had been cracked open and spread across the table, and it looked as though he’d scanned nearly every page.
He was at the stove in his pajama pants, frying bacon, and she could see him in profile through the glass. A cup of coffee sat on the counter beside his hand. He was bare-chested except for Jimmy’s dog tags, which dangled on their silvered chain between his muscled pecs. He hadn’t brushed his hair, and the combination of bedhead and three day beard and baggy-bottomed flannels made him look like a twenty-year-old.
Something awakened in her chest as she watched, and she felt the flutter cycle between affection and lust and then move beyond both. The feeling that enveloped her was the first stirrings of love, deep and sure, and the knowledge made her ache with the pleasure of certainty, and longing, and gratitude. She felt, at that moment, as if her world was perfect and she was home.
And home was Mack.
Then Stella raced up to join her, panting and asking to go in. She opened the door and Mack turned his head and his lips slanted with what looked like his own sense that her being there was right. Then he shifted his concentration back to the cooktop. He deftly moved a clutch of bacon strips to drain on a pad of paper to
wels, then threw half a dozen more into the pan.
“Stella is gonna be your best friend for life.”
His drawl was strong this morning, and rich with innuendo. She imagined that honeyed Tennessee tone whispering in her ear, and the visual made her move close behind him and lay her cheek against his back. “Warm,” she said.
He snaked his free arm behind him and circled her waist. “Where did you two get to? You’ve been gone for a while.”
“We went for a walk in the park. Sorry if I woke you up, I tried to sneak out.”
“I was already awake. Did you take your pepper spray?”
“I thought Stella would be enough.”
“Genny.”
“Yes, I took my pepper spray.”
“You’re not used to being in the country. It’s great out here, but it’s not always as harmless as it looks.”
“I’m used to it. I have friends who live in the boonies outside Healdsburg. Madison and Cole Welles. You’ll like them. She’s getting as big as a house, though, their first baby’s due in a couple of months. Come up with me after she’s born and you can meet them all at the same time.”
“Sure. I’d like that. She?”
“They’re waiting till she shows up to find out, but I’m hoping for a niece. What can I do to help?”
“Slice up the leftover spuds in the fridge and tell me how you like your eggs.”
“Home fries, too?”
“It’s Sunday. Eggs?”
“Scrambled, please. I’m going to take off these shoes and wash my hands and I’ll be right back to do the potatoes.”
She went down the hall to Mack’s bedroom and opened the curtains to let in some light, then made the bed and sat down to unlace her trainers. She pulled the pepper spray from her bra and started to pitch it back in the shoe where she kept it, but its shape reminded her that she might want to put on some lip gloss this morning. She rummaged around in her purse for the tube.
