by Abby Niles
“Are you sure your head chef doesn’t mind?” Mac asked. The kitchen was the head chef’s domain. There was a sense of possessiveness that went along with it, if the chef really valued his restaurant. Mac used to be anal as hell about his.
“Not at all. Michael is very excited to meet you. He used to eat at your restaurant.”
Well, there went that out.
He followed Paulette to the back, where a man, maybe in his early thirties, with black hair, was waiting with a chef’s jacket.
The man offered his hand as soon as Mac stopped in front of him. “I’m Michael Ross. It’s an honor to meet you, Chef. I used to eat at your restaurant all the time. The food you create is inspiring.”
Ross’s use of the formal address took him aback for a second. Damn, it was weird to be recognized for his culinary skills instead of his fighting skills. He couldn’t remember the last time a stranger had approached him without referring to him as “The Snake.” It was quite refreshing.
He took Michael’s hand and shook it. “From the Coda Di Rospo I just tasted, Chef, I’d say you’re the one who is inspiring.”
Pride illuminated the man’s face as his chest puffed out. Man, he used to feel the same way anytime a customer had wanted to compliment the chef. He’d loved those moments. Still had them occasionally—like when he watched Gayle eat his food.
The other chef lifted the white jacket. “For you.”
Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions from hesitation, to need, to excitement, he took it and slipped it on. As he stood in front of a mirror, he fastened the pearl buttons, then tugged on the hem. The reflection staring back was like coming home. Chef Mac Hannon.
And he grinned.
For three hours, he lost himself in the chaos of an in-the-weeds kitchen, making dishes he hadn’t in so long, calling out orders, expediting and beautifying plates. Not once did the horror that had happened in that very room cross his mind. He was in the moment and no longer in the past. After he finished the final ticket of the night, he realized how much time had passed—and he’d left Gayle by herself. Excusing himself, he hurried out of the kitchen.
She sat back in a booth, playing around on her phone. She looked up, her brows shot up her forehead as she said, “Damn,” appreciatively. “Baby, we need to do a little roleplaying.” She motioned up and down with a finger. “You wear that, and I’ll be the disgruntled customer, and you’re willing to do whatever the customer wants to make her happy. Mmm-hmm. That’ll be fun. That jacket is rrawr.” She made a feline motion with her fingers.
Grinning like a fucking fool, he strode over to her. “Get up.” When she did, he tugged her to his chest and kissed her gently. He gazed down at her. “You are the most amazing woman I have ever met.”
And he meant it. Ally had been wonderful, would always be remembered. But Gayle, with her unwavering patience, her support, and unflappable personality…no one topped Gayle. No one.
Mac smothered a chuckle at Gayle’s impatient huffing from the passenger seat of her car. For the first ten minutes of the forty-five minute drive, she’d been excited about the surprise he had planned for her, but for the last twenty or so, some very unlike-Gayle complaining had started. He was learning all kinds of interesting things about the woman, now that he was staying at her place twenty-four-seven. For instance, he’d learned she was all about spur-of-the-moment fun, but riding along in pitch darkness irritated the piss out of her.
“Can I take this damn blindfold off yet?” she asked as she lifted her hand to the black satin sleeping mask he’d bought especially for tonight’s events.
“Touch it and you can forget your surprise,” he warned.
“You are so mean,” she said with a pout.
He allowed himself a small chuckle before his humor faded and fear of losing what he had with Gayle clobbered him again. For the most part, he kept a lid on the unwanted feeling and enjoyed being with her. The other night, though, after she’d gone on a chase that took her away overnight, his nightmares had returned full force.
Except Ally was no longer the star player in them. Gayle was. It seemed he’d put the guilt he’d carried, for not being there the day his wife died, to rest. But it had only been replaced with his gut-wrenching fear a tornado would rip another woman from his arms—a woman who actively pursued them. The nightmares were vivid, stemming from the tornado that sideswiped them while they lay unprotected in the ditch. But this tornado didn’t miss them; it yanked Gayle from him every time, and tossed her around like a ragdoll before it hurled her to the ground. It was her hazel eyes staring lifelessly up at him, not Ally’s blue ones.
He’d begun to dread the next big system. Thankfully, all remained quiet. He wasn’t ready for the powerless feeling of putting his faith back into trust and hope. Because once Gayle left, he would be powerless to stop anything that happened to her, and that made him feel defenseless, vulnerable. He hated that feeling.
Shaking out of his ugly thoughts, he forced himself back to the present and how she made him feel when he was with her, which was happy. Content.
One of his favorite parts of the day was curling up on the couch watching TV before they went to bed. He’d forgotten how nice it felt just to have someone sitting beside him. Someone to share the shock or laughter when something unexpected happened in the show they were watching.
Four nights ago, the idea for tonight had planted in his mind from one of their nightly couch cuddling sessions, and he just couldn’t pass it up. She’d been more than diligent in making him step outside his comfort zone since they’d met, and it was time to return the favor. And do something extra special for her.
He parked her car in front of a line of overgrown shrubs and cut the engine. She immediately went for the blindfold.
“Don’t,” he warned.
She growled at him, and he had to clamp his teeth together to keep from laughing. Man, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction. He grabbed his duffle bag from the back seat, then climbed out of the car and hurried around to the passenger side. She had already unbuckled her seatbelt. As soon as he opened the door, she thrust her hand out and said, “Get me out of here.”
Taking her fingers, he helped her out of the car, pausing a second to admire the tan legs her denim shorts showed off and the purple halter top which dipped enticingly between her breasts. Hopefully, she’d still let him touch them after this.
He guided her across the uneven pavement until they stood in front of a run-down porch with peeling gray paint. Now, where did he want to be? Definitely somewhere he could see her reaction. He stepped off to the side so he could witness every emotion but not obstruct her view.
“Okay, you can take it off now.”
“Oh, I can’t wait, handsome.” A grin curved her lips as she clapped her hands and ripped off the mask.
Mac stilled, anticipation making him almost giddy.
She blinked a couple of times, then focused on what was before her and blinked some more. The grin twisted into a confused scowl. “What the hell is this?”
Time to have some fun. He tugged a piece of paper out of his back jeans pocket and offered it to her. She eyed it suspiciously, then unfolded it. “Graymore Manor.” She studied the page a second longer and her head snapped up. The expression on her face screamed, “You bastard!”
“Hell. No.” She took two steps back. “What the fuck, Mac? You brought me to a haunted house?” She spun around and started for the car. “Screw this. I’m going home.”
“I. Dare. You,” he sing-songed after her.
She whipped around and shook a finger at him. “Uh-uh. That’s Gayle’s bag of dares, not Mac’s bag of dares. Don’t be trying to coin in on my trademark, handsome, or you’re asking for a hurting.”
“So, what? You can issue me all kinds of challenges, but you’re too chicken to accept one?”
“Damn straight, I’m chicken.” She whirled around and circled her finger over her head. “Take me home.”
Damn the woman. Sh
e didn’t even hesitate when she refused to do something. The fact she flat out refused shocked him. He’d expected a slight hesitation, but not an outright balk. He’d learned about Gayle’s absolute loathing for poltergeist movies after she’d unenthusiastically watched one with him the other night. There hadn’t been a moment she hadn’t had her hands covering her face as she peeked between her fingers, screaming like the events were actually happening to her.
But after the movie ended, he’d become even more tickled. Every creak and pop, even him clearing his throat, had made her jump. Just seeing the woman who never backed down from anything so jumpy, well, it was an opportunity he couldn’t pass up.
“You give me ten minutes in here, and I’ll streak through the field behind your house. Naked.”
She paused, then slowly turned around. Cocking her head to the side, she narrowed her eyes on him with interest. “Make it five. And you streak in broad daylight. You will frolic through the field, skipping and dancing with your arms in the air, singing, Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.”
Jesus Christ. Where did she come up with this stuff, and so quickly? “You drive a hard bargain, woman.”
“That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.”
Five minutes was more than enough. “Get that fine ass in the house and let the countdown begin.”
Another scowl twisted her face as her gaze darted to the rundown shack, and she didn’t move a muscle.
“Holy shit.” He laughed. “You thought I’d back down.”
Making a frustrated grrrr noise, she stalked past him. “You’re spending too much time with me. It was a lot more fun when you were the one hemming and hawing.”
The little show of attitude filled his chest with warmth. God, he loved being around this woman. She just made life better, filled it with laughter and happiness. Even if she was pissed off to the gills right now.
As she stomped up the porch steps, he followed her. She froze at the door and he reached around her to grasp the knob, which he’d unlocked earlier after getting permission and the key from the owners, and opened it. A loud, creepy crrrreeeak greeted them.
Her eyes widened and she jumped back. Putting his hand to her lower back, he kept her from backing any farther away, which earned him the same eat-shit expression she’d given him the other night. “If you don’t make it the entire five minutes, our deal is off.”
Her lips pinched as her gaze skimmed over him. “I see you have a duffle bag.” She held out her hand. “I assume that means you came prepared. I want a flashlight.”
He’d come prepared all right, and thinking about the bargaining about to happen was turning him the hell on. “That’s going to cost you. No singing Oh, What a Beautiful Morning for me.”
The glare she sent him would’ve knocked him out cold if they’d been battling it out in the cage.
“Fine,” she said between clenched teeth.
He lowered the bag and dug into it. To have the upper hand for a change was fucking awesome. Other than the watered-down training session he’d put her through, she had steered every activity they had done together. Every one. Yeah, there was a tiny bit of guilt about the creepy-shit factor, but this was Gayle. She chased fucking tornadoes. He didn’t have much to work with.
He found his stopwatch, then handed her a flashlight. She immediately turned it on. Leaving the bag sitting by the door, he motioned her inside. “Ladies first.”
“How very gallant of you.”
He knew better than to laugh, but goddamn it, she was making it hard not to. The utter hostility in her voice was amusing as hell. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, he said, “And your five minutes starts…now.”
She jumped back outside and faced him. “How can I trust you will tell me when the five minutes are up?”
He dangled the stopwatch in front of her.
“I don’t trust you. Give it to me.”
Fine by him. “And the price for that is no frolicking for me.”
She sucked her teeth as a challenging spark flared in her eyes. “Oh, handsome, you have no idea what a can of worms you’ve opened.”
Actually, he did, and he couldn’t wait to find out the revenge she was dreaming up in that creative mind of hers. “That’s my price.”
Her hand shot out. Even her fingers motioning for him to hand the stopwatch over screamed with attitude. Softly laughing, he placed the watch in her palm. She fiddled with it for a moment then shoved it in his face. Yep. Set for five minutes. As she stepped over the threshold again, she clicked the button on the watch.
And the five minute countdown began.
She shuffled slowly inside, flipping the beam of light everywhere and nowhere. Mustiness from being closed up for years made the air heavy and dank. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling in long strings. Dust coated the floor. Lance had been the one to tell him about the house when Mac was trying to figure out how to pull this off. His friend had been right. The place was eerily perfect.
Seeing she had barely taken ten steps, he said, “You’re going to have to pick up the pace.”
“You want me to speed up? Then be prepared to frolic your handsome naked ass off,” she retorted.
Even in a faux haunted house, she never missed a beat.
“Done.”
She moved a little faster into the large, empty living room. A staircase leading upstairs was off to their left. Shadows made spooky images dance across the ceiling and floor. She started humming. Distraction. Mac followed behind her silently, letting her get wrapped up in the surroundings…and forgetting he was there.
A loud thump, like someone pounding a fist against the wall, came from upstairs. Without even a squeak, Gayle did a one-eighty and bumped straight into his chest. He gazed down at her. “Going somewhere?”
“You will so pay for this.” She spun back around and crept forward.
“Does this mean no frolicking for me again?” he asked after she’d taken no more than five steps.
A mumble that sounded very much like, “I’ll show you frolicking, you jerk,” came from her, but her strides increased. Seconds later, a low moan echoed throughout the house. Every muscle in Gayle’s body stiffened, then she shot behind him and pressed against his back.
“Holy shit, did you hear that?”
He about lost his composure, but he cleared his throat. “Just the house settling. Now, get back in front of me.”
“Hell, no.”
“Well then you know—”
“I’ll take back the fucking frolicking. I’m not going first.” The flashlight clattered to the floor, then his T-shirt stretched taut against his chest as she grabbed two fistfuls of it.
Creaking footsteps sounded above them, moving closer and closer to the staircase. She climbed up his back, wrapped her legs around his waist, locked her arms around his throat and pressed her face against his neck, whispering, “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
“Jesus.” He coughed as her grip dug into his windpipe. “Let up, for God’s sake.”
Thankfully, she loosened her grip. He knew she’d be scared, but her choking him unconscious hadn’t occurred to him.
With her piggyback on him, he squatted for the flashlight, wishing he’d thought to video tape this. He might never see Gayle this ruffled again.
As he straightened, a movement from the stairs grabbed his attention. At the tiny white figure slowly making it way downstairs, he stiffened.
“Why’d you stiffen? Oh God! Why’d you stiffen?” The words warmed his skin as her arms tightened around him until he gagged.
“Gayle,” he rasped. “Can’t breathe.”
“I don’t care. You’re an ass!” she said, but her death lock loosened.
Seconds later, he lost a few decibels of hearing from her earsplitting scream and he smacked his palm to his ear, groaning. “Fuck!”
“That’s it. I’m out.” The weight of her body left his back and when he turned around, she was gone.
Scrubbing his palm against his aching ear, he walk
ed over to the tiny ghost, hoisted her up into his arms and tapped her on the tip of her white painted nose. “Good job, kid.”
Skylar grinned. “Man. Gayle can scream. Did you hear her?”
Her childish cackle brought a smile to his face. “Oh, I heard her all right. Where’s your dad?”
“Right here, “Lance said as he jogged down the steps. “I had to get Skylar’s DS before I came down. Man, I didn’t know Gayle was capable of screaming like that.”
Mac hadn’t, either. Chuckling, he motioned for them to follow him. “Come out. Let’s find her and let her in on the fun.”
Finding her wasn’t hard. As they stepped outside onto the porch, she was already in the car. Lance waved at her. Gayle’s eyes rounded in disbelief, then she flung the door open. “Are you friggin’ kidding me?”
Grinning, Mac walked over to her just as the stopwatch in her hand started chirping. He tsked. “You didn’t make it the five required minutes. It seems our deal is off.”
She gaped at him, then she looked past him to Lance and Skylar on the porch. Her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t Graymore Manor, is it?”
“Nope. Rick made the flyer and printed it off for me. That man has some serious talent with art.”
“Rick was in on this.”
She shook her head, then stared at him for a moment longer. The shock slowly faded to amusement. A small laugh came from her, then another, until she was laughing so hard she doubled over. “Oh, my God.” She gasped, pressing her hand into her side. “You people could give Scare Tactics a run for their money. That was awesome.”
“And you.” She stepped over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, gazing up at him with her eyes full of happiness and awe. “Baby, you just took Gayle’s bag of dares to a whole new level. You just wait for what I pull out for you to do next.”
She tugged his head down and pressed her lips against his. Her warning was something to look forward to. Hell, he had a lot to look forward to. Finding out more of Gayle’s Achilles’ heels and using them to do crazy things like this were one of them. Yeah, he could definitely see himself spending a lifetime concocting his next dare for her.
