“This is lovely,” she said, running her hands over the bedspread on either side of her. Then she bounced once and grinned. “Have you ever slept in this room?”
Rick swallowed, feeling a bit claustrophobic. “A few times.” He fingered the cuff of his shirt. “Is there anything you need?” He pointed though the door-less arch leading to the en suite bath.
When she stood up but didn’t say anything, Rick cleared his throat. He turned around and she gave him a little smile, sweeping a wave of hair back from her eyes.
“Well…” She bit her lip the same way Mac did.
“Well.” He started backing his way toward the bedroom door. “Why don’t you settle in while I run down and get the rest of your bags.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Be right back!”
As soon as the door was closed behind him, he leaned against it and sighed. He wasn’t comfortable staying upstairs, and he wasn’t thrilled about what he might find downstairs. But what was his other choice? Lay on his own bed and hope the yeti that he used to think lived in his closet would finally come out and eat him? He wasn’t that lucky.
He jogged down two flights and tried to ignore the sound of Mac’s laughter coming from the first floor. Apparently, she was occupied with getting Jeremy settled in. He owed Brandy nothing less. He strapped one of her bags crossway over his shoulder and grabbed the remaining two. He wasn’t sure why she needed four bags for an overnight trip, but he wasn’t about to question any woman about her packing needs.
Brandy had changed into a fuzzy pink sweater by the time Rick returned to her room, and her hair was up in a high ponytail.
“Oh, here,” she said. “Let me get this one.” She stepped up to him to free him from the bag strapped across his chest. “Here…just…duck your head.” When Rick did so, Brandy moved closer and rose up on her toes, the side of her face right in front of Rick’s. When he dipped his head for her, his nose was right at her neck. She leaned in as she reached around to grab the strap. “Sorry.” She laughed softly. “It’s stuck.” She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes, her arms still around his neck.
“Oh. Sorry!”
Rick turned toward the voice in time to see an empty doorway. But he knew who’d just left.
“Mac!” He peeled off the bag from over his head on his way out the door.
“Mackenzie Jean Simms,” Brandy called out. “Haven’t you heard of knocking?” Her laughter followed Rick down the hall.
“Sorry,” Mac repeated, staring straight ahead as she marched down the stairs, Rick at her side. “I should have knocked. I didn’t know—”
“It was nothing,” Rick said. “She was only…”
Mac stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “Only what?” she said, her hands on her hips.
“Only, um… I don’t… She…”
Mac rolled her eyes in exasperation. “Jer!” she called, walking toward the kitchen. “Jer! Are you hungry? There’s food!”
“Sweet!” Rick heard Jeremy’s heavy steps bounding up the stairs. “What have you got?” He was grinning when he appeared.
Yeah, Rick didn’t like him. His hair was too long and there was a joke printed on the front of his T-shirt that Rick didn’t understand. But since Rick was bound to play host for the next twenty-four hours, he would be polite if nothing else.
“The fridge is full,” Rick said politely. “Help yourself.”
Jeremy pulled open the refrigerator and started rooting around. “Did you make this pork, babe?”
And why did he call Mackenzie babe? Was it some private joke shared between the two “old friends?” Or was it more? Jeremy was getting on Rick’s last nerve and he’d only been there twenty minutes.
“Kenzie doesn’t cook,” Brandy said, drifting into the kitchen.
“I did make the pork,” Mac said, joining Jeremy at the fridge. “And please stop calling me that,” she whispered.
“Calling you what?” Jeremy asked, pulling out a pre-packaged bag of ham instead of Mac’s homemade pork. Another strike against him.
“Babe,” Mac whispered through clenched teeth, probably trying not to be overheard. “Stop calling me babe. I hate it.”
“You made this?” Brandy said, peeling back the lid of pork. “Like, actually cooked it?”
“And it was incredibly delicious.” Rick felt a little uneasy when they all turned to look at him.
“Last night we”—he ran a hand through his hair—“we…we ate together…and it was very good.” He looked right at Mac. “Very good.”
He hadn’t meant it to come out quite like that, but when a light pink blush swept up Mac’s cheeks, he couldn’t help smiling.
“Thanks,” she said, tucking some hair behind her ears. “So what do you guys want to do?”
“I want to play in the snow,” Brandy said enthusiastically.
“Looks like someone’s already been out there,” Jeremy said, pointing out the window.
“What?” Mac moved to the window. “Rick.” She grabbed the cord and pulled the blinds all the way up. “Someone was here last night. There are tracks in the snow.”
“That was me,” Rick said.
Mac turned around. “When did you go outside?”
“Um, right after…you…went to bed.” He rubbed his chin. He hadn’t shaved that morning. Noticing Jeremy’s college freshman day-old growth, he wished he would have. “It was pretty late.”
Mac’s eyebrows shot up. “You went out there?”
He shrugged.
“Why?”
“I felt like taking a run.”
Her brows arched higher. “You went for a run. Last night. In the snow?”
“I was feeling restless, Mac. Would you like me to elaborate?”
Mac stared at him, her eyes wide.
“Well, I’m ready to go outside now,” Brandy said. “Who’s with me?”
“Um…” Rick was still looking at Mac, willing her to make up some reason why she needed to stay inside, and needed him to stay with her.
“We’ll all go,” Mac said. “I feel cooped up. Why don’t we go for a walk?” She breezed by Rick and grabbed her coat. “We could probably all use some cooling off.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
A walk was a terrible idea.
It was bad enough fighting off Jeremy, who was trying to get Mac to slip in the snow so he could catch her, and it was another thing watching Brandy paw all over Rick.
Mac had tried to do the right thing with Rick last night, stopping them before they went too far. She’d been thinking about Brandy. Well, it looked like Rick had been thinking about her, too. Or at least now he was.
That wasn’t fair. Her brain was on auto-snippy again.
By the time they made it back to the cabin, Mac’s hands were freezing and she had a headache. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on her bed and sleep it off until Sunday morning.
“Billiards tourney!” Jeremy exclaimed. “Battle of the sexes or mixed teams?”
“Mixed!” Brandy beamed, slithering out of her coat like a Bond Girl. “Rick and I will take you two on!”
“Let me check the fire first,” Rick said, kneeling in front of the hearth, “then I’ll be right down.”
“Mac?” Brandy asked, twirling her ponytail around her fingers. “You coming?”
It was the last thing she wanted to do, but Mac pressed her lips together and feigned gusto. “Sure,” she said.
Mac was better at pool than Brandy, but she was sure Brandy looked better at it. She seemed to take over the whole table when she stretched her lean body across it, her silky hair tumbling over her shoulder. Mac even caught Jeremy ogling. Although, that made her much less queasy than seeing the same out of Rick. But maybe she was only imagining Rick’s eyes on her cousin. What did she expect? Brandy was stately and elegant and a friggin’ brick house compared to Mac.
“You boys thirsty?” Brandy asked, massaging a cube of blue chalk onto the end of her cue stick.
>
“I am,” Jeremy said, racking up the balls for their next game.
“Sure,” Rick said. “Need any help?”
“No, no, you stay right here.” She touched his arm before she swung her hair and hopped upstairs.
It did not escape Mac’s attention that no one had bothered to ask her if she happened to be thirsty. What also didn’t escape her notice was that she was being mentally catty to her own cousin about the man she herself had set Brandy up with. While Rick and Jeremy were discussing the rules of the next game, Mac leaned against the pool table and looked at the clock on the wall. Ugh. Was this day never going to end?
“Here you go.” Brandy appeared at the foot of the stairs with two tall glasses containing some kind of frothy pink concoction.
“What is it?” Jeremy asked, as he was handed the first glass.
“It’s a Brandy Special,” she said, sidling up to Rick and placing the glass in his hand. “Try it.” She smiled brightly.
Rick took a sip. “Mmm.” He nodded. “Strawberry.”
“Do you like it?”
“Mhmm.” He nodded again and took another sip.
“This is completely kick-ass,” Jeremy said. “Do you work at a bar? I’ve never had anything like this.”
Brandy lifted her chin and laughed, leaning against the pool table. “It’s my very own invention. You want another?”
“Immediately!”
Brandy swiveled around to Rick. More than half of his glass was still full. “Are you ready for your second?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Rick took another drink. “Almost.”
Jeremy chuckled. “She’s a keeper,” he said, pointing at her then at Rick. He continued his thought via the band Looking Glass, singing into the end of his pool stick: “Brandy…you’re a fine girl…what a goooood wife you will be…”
“Wife?” Brandy giggled lightly and walked past him, swatting his arm. “Whatever.” She stood next to Rick. “Wife.” She laughed again. “Whatever, right?”
Rick looked down at her and returned her smile. “It’s a good song,” he said.
At that, Jeremy grabbed his stick mic again and repeated the first lines of the chorus. Apparently, this was just too tempting for Rick, because he joined in the last line: “Yeah, your eyes could steal a sailor from the sea…”
Brandy squealed and clapped, then wound her arms around Rick’s waist. Rick was still laughing when his hand patted her back.
Mac froze in place, staring helplessly at the scene unfolding before her eyes.
Probably feeling Mac’s gaze on him, Rick looked at her.
“I—” she began.
“Babe,” Jeremy cut in between them. “Hand me the chalk.”
…
“I’m going to put one last log on the fire for the night,” Rick said. “Unless anyone wants to stay up?”
The pool tournament was over, and it seemed as though everyone had run out of steam. Rick, for one, was more than happy to put the evening out of its misery. They were all gathered in the kitchen, finishing their evening beverages.
“I’m good,” Jeremy said, putting his mug beside the sink. “I saw the DVD collection downstairs. I was thinking of watching some classic Star Trek for a while. Anyone else?”
“Help yourself,” Rick said. He looked at Brandy. “You?”
She covered a wide yawn with one hand. “I think I’m ready to go upstairs.”
“I’m out, too,” Rick said. “Night, Jeremy.” He looked at Mac, who was washing glasses at the sink. “Are you—”
“You coming down, babe?” Jeremy said.
“Mac doesn’t like sci-fi,” Rick said automatically.
“What?” Jeremy scratched his head.
“She doesn’t like science fiction TV shows.” Rick looked at Mac. “Do you?”
Mac looked at him for a moment then away. “They’re okay,” she said, running a towel around the outside of a glass. “Jer, I’ll be down in a minute. I have to put these things away.”
“I’ll help,” Rick said, taking the glass. When he turned to put it away, Brandy was eyeing him from the stairs.
“I think they want to be alone,” she whispered, nodding toward Mac and Jeremy.
Rick tasted bile at the back of his throat.
“Night, cuz,” Brandy sing-songed.
“Good night, Brandy,” Mac replied.
It was quiet for a few minutes as they washed and rinsed.
“We need to talk,” Rick finally said, keeping his voice as low as possible.
“Why?” Mac was staring at the bubbles in the sink.
He took a glass from her to rinse. “Because…we haven’t been alone all day. Don’t you think we should talk?”
Mac lowered the glass she was washing and glanced at him. “Yeah, I do.” She sounded tentative, but at least she wasn’t shutting him out. “About last night,” she began. “I’m sorry.”
“About which part?” Rick asked, bracing himself for her answer.
“Um…” Still looking down, she rested her hand between them on the edge of the sink. “The stopping part,” she said in a quiet voice.
Rick released the breath he was holding and rested his hand next to hers. Their pinkie fingers were almost touching. “So am I.”
“It wasn’t fair,” Mac continued.
Rick turned to face her, leaning against the side of the sink. “Care to tell me what happened?” he asked.
“I freaked out,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Because of—”
“Rick? Will you bring me up an extra blanket, pretty please?” The sound came from upstairs, fourth floor. They both lifted their chins in that direction.
“Speak of the devil…” he heard Mac mutter under her breath. “Sounds like you’re needed,” she said clearly, as she yanked the drain out of the sink.
“I think this conversation is more important than a blanket,” Rick said, touching her finger then sliding his hand over hers.
Mac looked down at their hands, flipping hers over so they were palm to palm. “So do I,” she whispered, inching forward, almost close enough to tuck herself under his chin.
“Rick…?”
Mac stepped back and rolled her eyes. “Brandy is why I stopped us, Rick,” Mac said, sliding her hand out from his and picking up a dishtowel.
He looked at her, feeling confused again. “What?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, she’s my cousin and she came here to be with you…and…we shouldn’t have—”
Another call from upstairs cut her off.
“Oh, for the love of all that is holy.” Mac unleashed a growl. “Please, go up there, already. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”
Rick had no intention of leaving before he got some real answers. But Mac was already backing way. “Are you sure?” he asked, completely unsatisfied.
“I’m going downstairs to Jeremy anyway,” Mac said, setting the last glass on the drying rack. “See you in the morning.”
Rick watched in silence as she disappeared down the stairs, leaving him alone in the kitchen. Why did it always feel like one step forward and two steps back with Mackenzie? First, it was their mutual attraction. Well, that was settled. But then it wasn’t. And next, even after they promised to communicate better, he was in the dark again.
As he turned off the lights, he racked his brain. He didn’t understand what Mac had meant. She’d said that she’d freaked out and stopped them because of Brandy. But why? Was she jealous of Brandy? Was she trying to make him jealous of Jeremy? Or was she trying to tell him something else completely? There was an explanation; he just didn’t know what it was yet. All he knew was, he’d had enough. He was a newspaperman. Prying information out of sources was his specialty. And he would pin Mackenzie down to the ground the next morning in front of everyone if that’s what it took to get her to spill.
His head continued to whirl as he climbed the stairs.
The light from Brandy’s bedroom cut into the darkness of the fourth floor hall. R
ick heard her humming as he hesitated before stepping through the open door. She was sitting in the middle of the bed, her long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. She was in an over-sized T-shirt that hit her mid-thigh. Rick wasn’t sure if she was wearing anything else.
“You asked for another blanket,” he stated, and then displayed the requested item in case she needed further explanation as to why he was there.
“Thank you,” she said. Her hair was down now, hanging over her shoulders.
Rick took two steps into the room, just far enough to place the blanket on the foot of the bed.
“It looks cozy,” Brandy said. Slowly she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs.
“Um, yeah.” Rick said. “It should be.”
When he took one step back, Brandy pulled in her knees, slid off the bed, and padded across the hardwood floor.
“Today was fun,” she said, smiling up at him.
“Yeah.” Rick nodded. “If we get up early tomorrow, we can—”
She cut him off with a hard kiss.
Rick was too stunned to react immediately. Her mouth and her body, tall and firm and pressed against him, were making his head swim. But after a single tick of the clock, he pulled back.
“Good night,” he said, reaching behind him to take her hands off his body.
Brandy blinked up at him, a pout on her mouth, looking baffled.
“Good night,” Rick repeated as he backed up toward her bedroom door. “See you in the morning.” A part of his brain was wondering why he was fool enough to leave this woman, but the vast majority of it knew exactly why.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next morning—before Mac, Brandy, and Jeremy were to leave for the airport—started out as a quiet one. Quiet for Mac, that is. She’d slept in. When she eventually padded downstairs in her thick socks and a bathrobe from the back of the bathroom door, she ran into Rick, who was just coming in from outside.
“Hi,” she said, taking a mug and walking toward the fireplace.
“Good morning.”
“You went for another run?” The question was redundant, as he was clearly wearing sweats, running shoes, and his cheeks were red and he was out of breath.
Speaking of Love Page 16
