by Lia London
Willa yawned and tucked herself deeper into the cushions of the couch. All her friends had squealed and sighed and insisted she binge watch the latest British drama mini-series, but she struggled to care about the Scottish duke’s affinity for brandy snifters and copper-colored hounds.
A hesitant knock sounded, and she gaped at the front door. Elfie always came to the side door in the kitchen, so who was this? She fumbled to untangle her feet from the fleece throw that wrapped her in a cocoon and shuffled to the door.
Swinging it open, she hiccupped with surprise. “Mac.”
“Hey, Willa.”
“Come in.” She shifted backwards, almost tripping on the blanket.
“Oh, hey. Careful there.” His hand steadied her arm.
“What’s up?”
The faintest smile flashed on his face before he coughed uncomfortably. “I, um. Elfie said something about the wiring in your overhead lights being weird and flickery. I thought I’d take a look.”
Willa scrunched her face in confusion and waved her arm to usher him in. “Huh. I didn’t mention anything to her.”
Mac chuckled. “Maybe it was from before you moved in. Should I check?”
Glancing up at the overhead light, she shrugged. “It’s not flickering now. I don’t think it has been.” A familiar expression of disappointment flashed across his face, and Willa hastened to add, “I mean, if you really want to go up in the attic and climb around, you’re welcome to try, but it seems you didn’t bring any tools anyway.”
Mac blushed. Had he made an excuse to stop by?
“Oh. You’re right.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll leave you to your show, then.”
Willa gripped his arm before she could stop herself. “Please don’t. It’s boring. You’ll be my reason for not watching it.” Who was making excuses now?
Mac’s whole demeanor registered relief. He cast his eyes downward shyly, then brightened. “Hey, I remember those socks.”
“You gave them to me for Valentine’s Day.”
“You kept them all these years? That’s crazy.”
Willa shrugged. “They were a really sweet gift. You knew I collected silly socks back then and you gave me socks instead of flowers or chocolate like everyone else.” Her eyes lingered in his. “It was more personal. I couldn’t just throw them away.”
They sighed in unison.
“Are you hungry? I’ve got some leftover Chinese in the fridge.”
A smile bloomed on his face. “Are you kidding me? Just what I was craving.”
“We’re two wontons in a pot, then,” she quipped. She stood, taking in his profile with a sideways glance. Did he remember how he used to call them that?
The curve of his lips told her he did.
Mac followed her into the kitchen, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as she busied herself pulling the cartons from the fridge and fluffing their contents with a fork before putting them into the microwave. As she transferred each one, he passed her the next. When their eyes met and locked, she thought she’d melt into the grout between the tiles.
The microwave dinged for the last time, and they both reached for the door, their knuckles grazing until he withdrew.
“Sorry. Your house.” He leaned his hands back on the counter, a gesture that pulled his shirt taut across his pecs in a disconcertingly hot way.
Willa swallowed. “No worries. It’s like old times, racing to get the plate of Pepperoni Puffs first.”
His smile ticked up on one side. “Those were good times.” Turning, he opened the nearest cupboard and extracted plates.
“How’d you know where to find them?”
“Same general place you used to have them in your house as a kid.”
“You remembered?”
Mac faced her directly, his eyes suddenly intense. “I remember everything about those days. They were my happiest.”
“Just hanging out and doing homework?” When had she drifted closer?
Mac licked his lips. “You were my best friend. High school would’ve sucked without you, but instead…” He spun on his heel to open the cutlery drawer and bring out two soup spoons.
“So, have you spent a lot of time here? I mean, next door with Elfie?”
“Yeah, it’s usually home base for the holidays. Gramma Elfie loves playing hostess.”
“She’s a character.” Willa scooped up the cartons, two in each hand, and jerked her head towards the small kitchen table.
His eyes were fixed on her. “Gramma thinks the world of you. She says you’re smart and caring and funny and sweet and efficient…”
“Efficient.” Willa quirked her brow at him. “That sounds like a solar battery.”
Mac chuckled. “You are. You light up the room with kindness, and…” He scooted his chair close enough that their knees touched. “Willa, I’m sorry if I’ve been kind of out of it lately. I was…”
“Hurting,” she said. “You were hurting.”
“Yeah. Can we start this old-friends-reunite thing over?”
“Of course.” She dared to lift her gaze to his. When he leaned forward and gave her a friendly hug like old times, her heart swelled. “I’m here for you, Mac.”
Mac – for the next three hours
Mac suspected Willa knew the wiring check was a bluff, but she went along with it, and they soon found themselves army-crawling over plywood stretched across the rafters. Dusty and coated with cobwebs as the cramped space was, he was shocked by how oddly romantic the exercise was. They’d wriggle along side by side, and she’d hold up the flashlight while he examined any exposed wiring for signs of wear. With each scoot forward, they seemed to inch closer together.
“You’re panting like a dog,” she teased. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“It’s not my usual workout.”
“I’m still not sure what you’re searching for.” Her tone held no accusation.
“Just any sign that the light will go out.”
“Like this?” She snapped the flashlight off, thrusting them into the darkness. He coughed a laugh and rolled onto his back.
“You okay?” Suddenly her hand rested on his chest. Could she feel how his heart pounded even though his breath stopped?
“I don’t think I’ve ever been better,” he whispered.
“Good.” Her hand slid across his chest, bringing her arm to rest on his torso.
Mac didn’t dare move. This had to be a dream. No way had his teen crush grown up to be even more beautiful and sweet than before. No way was she embracing him in the dark. No way was a geek like him good enough for her. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her at every point of contact.
“I can’t believe any of this,” he whispered.
“Losing your mom must be so hard, but you’re handling things well, Mac. I’m so proud of you.”
Mac’s eyes snapped open. He had most definitely not been thinking of his mother in that moment, and he frowned at the buzzkill. Maybe Willa turning off the light and hugging him was just a comforting gesture coming from an old friend thing. He shifted, and the sheet of plywood below them protested with a cracking noise.
“Uh-oh! We’d better get off this thing.”
He scrambled to reposition himself. “Can we get the light back on?” Hoping to find the flashlight, he reached forward.
“Ow!” A beam of light illuminated the space between them, and Willa ground her eye socket with the heel of her hand. “You poked me in the eye.”
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” He rolled back to his chest, reaching to brush her hair from the injured eye. The sheet of plywood cracked again, and he felt a piece fold away from him where his hip rested.
“I’m okay! I’m okay!” cried Willa, rattling her way across to the hatch that led into the kitchen.
Mac growled a vow to secure newer plywood in place and hurried after her.
Willa – two weeks later
“Are you available for a road trip this morning?”
“What?”
Willa gripped the phone tighter.
“I have to go out to Aunt Laila’s to sign papers,” explained Mac. “And I guess there’s something to bring back.”
Willa swallowed her disappointment. After the attic incident, she was starting to doubt he would ever actually want her. He hadn’t responded to her clumsy lights-out move at all. So much for taking chances. “Why do you need me to go?”
“It may be a rough trip. I could use a friend with me.”
A friend. She’d hoped for more. And yet his tone told her he meant it as a compliment. “Okay. If Elfie doesn’t need me.”
“Thanks. You don’t have to do this.”
“Make up your mind. Do you want me or not?”
“I do, Willa. I do.”
Did he realize he’d used the words she most longed to hear in a very different setting? It wrinkled her emotions, doubling her back to Orrin’s rejection. She’d since found out the scum bag had decided to chase after slinkier, better-connected women who could advance his career without any real commitments.
Willa frowned. Mac Norton had it all over that jerk, but a proposal wasn’t coming from him, either.
Still, this was Mac. “Of course. How soon do you need me ready?”
Two hours later, Willa sat on the steps of her porch, tossing a water bottle back and forth between her hands and bouncing her heels with nervous energy. She’d tried on seven different outfits to find the one that made the statement she didn’t care how she looked unless he decided he did, in which case a quick adjustment could show she cared back. Girls had to worry about these things.
A shiny maroon pick-up eased in front of her car, and she straightened up to see who might be visiting one of the neighbors. To her surprise, Mac stepped out.
“Hey there,” he said, smiling shyly.
Willa arched a brow at him. “Nice suspenders.” And nice pecs under the suspenders.
He gave her a chagrined nod. “It’s a way to feel connected to Mom.”
“That’s a sweet gesture.”
Mac shrugged. “It’s probably better than wearing one of her dresses.”
Willa’s laugh escaped before she knew it had formed. “Yes. You have nice legs, but…” She stopped herself. Flirting felt too weird. He’d probably moved on big time, and that’s why he didn’t show signs of attraction to her.
“Brace yourself for the new car smell.”
Willa sidled up into the passenger seat. “You just got this? Isn’t it kind of big for a guy who works on a laptop all day?”
“We’re driving out into the country. I thought we should look the part.” He closed the door and thumped the hood with his fist as he crossed in front of the truck, and Willa tried not to stare. She’d always been attracted to his personality, but now he had a body like… Biting her lip, she looked away again.
Mac navigated through town to the interstate. Once they got up to full speed and a little more, he punched the stereo with his finger and classic rock filled the cab.
It felt too much like old times, and Willa felt a painful longing grow inside of her. Each part of her seemed to reach for him in turn, pulling back with an uncertainty that had never existed before. This was Mac, her better half in youth, the first secret love of her life. Though he sat inches away, it felt like a universe of ambiguity separated them.
When the ads came on, she found a safe subject to distract her. “So… what ever happened to Elfie’s husband? How long as she been alone?”
Mac winced. “Not long after we graduated, he died of lung cancer. Smoked his whole life. It was awful. He’d been my favorite grandpa.”
Willa swallowed this new information with a swig from her water bottle. She knew Mac’s father had stuck around long enough to give him a last name before divorcing his mom and leaving with another woman. The faceless Norton’s irresponsibility had been a character catalyst for Mac, who vowed he would never abandon his duties to family and loved ones. It was something she’d always admired about him.
“Do you ever get together with your grandparents?” he asked, pulling her back into the present.
“They live in Nevada and New Mexico, so I almost never see them. I guess I don’t know what it’s like to be close to extended family. Mine are all spread out.”
“Is that hard?”
“It’s what I’m used to.” She fidgeted with the seat belt. “And now we’re going out to see Lippy?”
Mac snorted. “Who told you about that?”
“Duh.”
“Gramma Elfie.”
“She calls your mom Dippy. You know that, right?” As soon as she said it, she hoped she hadn’t offended him. Fortunately, he bobbed his head.
“Yep. Lippy and Dippy. Lice and Dice.”
“Oh man, do I want to know the story behind that one?” Willa suppressed a laugh.
He grinned. “Probably not.”
“Nice terms of endearment your grandmother comes up with. I wonder what she calls me.”
“Perfect.”
Willa turned her gaze from the cars in front of them to Mac’s profile. “What?”
His jaw tensed a little and he adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “She thinks you’re perfect.” He switched lanes, checking his mirrors more than Willa thought necessary. “Have you still not told her we were friends in high school?”
“You haven’t?” Willa pondered this.
“I guess it hasn’t come up in conversation.”
Willa blinked at a tear and slapped the air vent closed. If he didn’t talk to Elfie about her, she must not be very important to him, not even as a friend.
Mac cleared his throat and gave her a half smile. “So… here’s a stupid question.”
“No, I did not forget to turn in your English paper for you. Mrs. Watson said it rocked.”
He snorted at their old running gag, forged when she had indeed forgotten to turn in a final paper for him, but the teacher gave him an A on it anyway because of his scholastic track record. She and Mac had later celebrated the turn of events by reading the paper aloud to the ducks in the park with their most dramatic—and terribly unauthentic—British accents. Willa had laughed so hard she almost wet herself. It was one of the first and only times where they’d hugged with any hint of a spark, but the moment had died quickly when the ducks took off as a flock and thundered their wings overhead.
“That wasn’t the question,” he said with a posh Brit lilt.
“Pray, ask me before I explode with anticipation,” she quipped.
Mac wagged a finger at her. “You’ve been watching Featherstone Manor on BBC.”
Willa’s jaw dropped. “What? No! The duke is so lame!”
Mac’s laughter warmed her, but when it stilled, she felt the air get thick in the cab. “No, seriously. My question was how is… Um. Are you seeing someone?”
“I could ask the same thing.”
“But I asked first.”
She rolled her eyes at the familiar evasion technique. “Actually, I was.”
His brows and lips each stretched his face in opposite directions. “Really? When was that? Anyone I know?”
Willa’s stomach churned a little. “Oh, never mind. It was dumb. I…”
Mac’s eyes left the road to search hers. “This was recent, wasn’t it?”
How did he know? “Kind of.”
“What was he like?”
“Tall, dark, handsome.” Willa tried to sound indifferent. She really didn’t want to talk about her ex with Mac. “But not like you.”
He flinched.
“Oh man, that totally came out wrong. I mean, you’re tall, dark, and handsome in a different way, and…” She fizzled out when she saw Mac’s jaw clench. “Forget it. He was a jerk. He wanted something I couldn’t offer.”
Mac’s knuckles whitened. “What on earth could he imagine you couldn’t offer? You’ve got everything a sane man would want.”
Willa’s mouth went dry in an instant, and her voice came out as a crackle. “Thanks
.” She sighed and took a drink from her water bottle. “I don’t want to talk about him, please.”
With a tight-lipped nod, Mac dropped the subject and chose to study the highway in silence for the next several miles.
All the while, Willa wished she could summon the courage to voice all the favorable comparisons she could make between Mac and Orrin, showing how her old friend was in every way superior to the rich, sleazy snob who had completely fooled her into thinking she’d found love. Sullen, she turned the radio back up and stared out the window.
The sun-withered hills looked like a yellow blanket tossed over an unmade bed, each crease and curve casting hazy shadows that surprised her with their beauty. She had always preferred the green of the valley, but now she saw a different kind of natural splendor.
“Are we almost there?”
“Seven more miles.”
“So, what do I need to know about your Aunt Laila?”
Mac raked a hand through his hair. “You will probably not love her. She’s kind of the anti-Willa.”
“Meaning?”
“She’s bossy and doesn’t care much about people’s feelings, and she probably changes her clothes half a dozen times a day.”
“That last part is a girl thing. We’re trying to look our best.”
Mac turned his head enough to make full eye contact. “I don’t remember you ever trying that hard.” He grinned. “Not that you needed to.”
Heat rose in her cheeks. “Well, hopefully you’re well enough dressed for both of us in those things.” She snapped the suspender on his shoulder playfully.
He smirked and returned his focus to the road. “I’m starting to worry about you and Gramma going through all of Mom’s stuff. You might find my naked baby pictures or something. I’ll have no secrets from you.”
“That’s hardly motivation for me to stop, is it?” Willa grinned. “Besides, she makes killer sugar cookies.”
“Too much nutmeg.”
Willa laughed. “Oh, now you’re going down.”
“I’d love to debate the finer culinary points of cookie making, but …” He tapped at the GPS on his dashboard as he pulled off the ramp. “I need to listen to directions to Aunt Laila’s office.”
