Liam dropped his hand and shrugged. “Maybe, but you showing up at my door to ask for recipes was about the last thing I ever would’ve expected.”
Macy backed away from the top step and turned to face him. “Then how do you cook if you don’t have anything to look at? Do you have recipes online you could print out or e-mail me?”
He shook his head. Why was he being so damn stubborn and hardheaded?
“I tend to make things up as I go along or I’ll experiment at home, then try it out at the resort.”
Macy watched him, but realized he wasn’t joking. “I can’t make a frozen waffle turn out right and you can pull random recipes out of your head on a whim?”
“We all have our talents.”
And his talents were adding up. He was a master chef, he could console without a single word, and he answered the door looking like every woman’s secret fantasy.
Macy started to wonder what her talent was, then realized the only thing she’d ever been good at was softball. But she didn’t want to start thinking about that right now. She couldn’t handle too much at once. Besides, all of that was in the past and now she was moving forward, inching toward that family goal she’d always wanted.
“I just thought this would be a simple fix,” she muttered, mostly to herself. Starting to feel defeated, she shrugged. “With all that’s going on, I was hoping for one easy thing. Sorry I interrupted your workout.”
“I was just relieving some frustration with my punching bag.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her. “What’s your stress reliever?”
Macy laughed. “I don’t have time for a stress reliever.”
“All the more reason you need one,” he replied. “Come on in.”
Macy gave him the side-eye. “Why?”
A lopsided grin had her stomach doing flips. “You’re about to get sweaty.”
Chapter Five
What the hell had he been thinking inviting her in like that?
First, he hadn’t expected her to show up at his door, but she’d been fidgeting, biting that bottom lip, and looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than asking him for help. Then she’d gotten frustrated and quite possibly embarrassed.
Macy had pride, a trait he admired in anyone, but she was strong, determined, and went out of her way to help others. Her father was the same way, but Liam knew there was something in her past that made her who she was today. He recognized that stubborn streak, recognized the brokenness she tried to hide, and damn if that didn’t make him more attracted.
Which was utterly ridiculous. He’d made a huge mistake with her already and he couldn’t afford to lose sight of his ultimate goal. And other than this obvious attraction, what did they have in common? Why should he push forward and allow himself to feel when he knew full well that this wasn’t his forever home?
“Follow me.”
He led her toward his bedroom, where his free stand punching bag sat in the corner. His eyes traveled toward the messy bed, instantly remembering her wrapped in his sheets.
“Wow, you go from wanting to kiss me to saying let’s get sweaty and leading me to your bedroom. You don’t waste time.”
Liam threw a glance over his shoulder. “Funny.”
With a slight shrug and wide smile, Macy replied, “I thought so.”
Damn it. Why did she have to make him feel? He didn’t want to feel. Didn’t want to find reasons to smile, to be drawn closer to her. She was everything he wasn’t and he refused to succumb to her sultry charms. At least if he was alone, he couldn’t get hurt.
“So why did you bring me in here?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. “Because I actually have things to do.”
The boxing gloves he’d discarded moments ago were on his bed. Liam picked them up and extended them. “Yeah, you’re going to let off some steam.”
She clutched the gloves to her chest, her eyes holding his. “By fighting?”
“By hitting the bag.” He motioned to the corner. “Trust me on this. You may want to lose the flannel.”
The red and black plaid flannel might have looked frumpy and boxy on some women, but Macy wore it like she’d had it custom made to fit those curves. A white tank peeked out, so he knew she had something on underneath.
After a moment of hesitating, she sat the gloves on the end of the bed and began unbuttoning her shirt. This was such a bad idea. Because Macy with her flannels, or even her T-shirts, was a mouthwatering sight. But Macy with her toned arms exposed, her fitted white tank with lacy pale pink bra straps peeking out and lying against smooth, bare shoulders, was something that would make any man weak in his knees. Liam sure as hell didn’t need any more help with being weak where she was concerned.
Macy focused on tying her flannel around her waist, then looked back up at him. “Now what?” she asked, her arms out to the side. “I’ve never done this before.”
Liam forced himself to get the gloves and concentrate on showing her how to put them on. Once they were secure, he gestured to the bag.
“Step on up.” He kept his unmarred side to her as he came in beside her. “Stay relaxed, don’t lock up your arms. Don’t try to move the bag, just literally punch it.”
She hesitated, staring at the bag as if it were going to retaliate.
“It won’t hit you back,” he said with a laugh.
Had he enjoyed himself this much when he lived in Savannah? Had he even wanted to have fun or be with someone else? The more Macy was near him, even if they were battling tension, the more he wanted to be near her. Friends would be fine, right? It wasn’t as if he could dodge her until he left town.
He’d left a message with the owner of Magnolias to find out if indeed the place was for sale. Although with Liam leaving on bad terms with his boss, perhaps his call would go ignored. But he’d been a top chef, bringing in more business than any chef before him, so Liam felt pretty confident. He also knew his boss’s anger had stemmed from fear of losing Liam, but at the time Liam had an obligation to fulfill.
Now, though, he might be able to transition back into his old lifestyle and find a replacement for the resort. There had to be a way. To honor his mother’s memory, to fulfill a dream they’d both had, he would find the loophole and jump through it.
Liam was just about to say something to Macy when her right arm shot out as she made contact. The hit didn’t budge the bag at all.
“Now what?” she asked, glancing over. “Nothing happened and I feel the same.”
Wow. She was trying at times. “What are you frustrated with? What are you stressed about? Pretend you’re hitting everything that takes up space in your mind and steals your happiness.”
Hello, Pot, I’m Kettle.
Who the hell was he to give emotional advice? He certainly was no motivational speaker. He was as messed up as they came. Liam had no clue how to help someone else.
And that was the crux of his problem. He wanted to fix things, wanted those he cared about to always be happy, to have everything they ever wanted. If they needed saving, even from themselves, he would find a way to help. Unfortunately, saving people didn’t always work for him. But damn it if he’d give up. Something was eating away at Macy, but he didn’t have a right to pry, though that was precisely what he wanted to do.
At this point, he could only show her what he did to relieve frustrations and pent-up emotions. And perhaps this little exercise would help get that tension from her body and help with the migraines. She just needed an outlet.
“I don’t have that much stress,” she mumbled.
Liam tipped his head, eyeing her in that silent way to let her know he didn’t believe her. “Fine. What about those secrets you’re keeping? That past you don’t want people to know about.”
In an instant she transformed from soft to hard. Her eyes narrowed, the muscle in her jaw clenched, shoulders stiffened.
“We all have that part we keep inside,” she defended.
Liam nodded in agreement. “All the more re
ason to let the tension go without actually telling anyone your problems. Take control so it can’t take control of you.”
Again, who the hell was he to be saying these things? He’d been trying to exorcise these demons for years. Yet again, he may not know what he was doing, if he was even helping, but he refused to give up. He’d lost his mother, lost his adoptive parents, and was cheated on by a fiancée. Saving any of those relationships was impossible, but backing down from helping those around him wasn’t an option . . . even if it did test his patience and his emotions at times.
“I haven’t let anything control me for a while,” she replied, turning to face the bag. “But I won’t be a victim again.”
Before he could even comprehend the chilling meaning behind the term “victim,” Macy let loose and hit the bag. Once, twice, three times. She grunted on the last one and continued to glare as if she were truly facing her nightmare.
“Victims are weak.” Punch. “I’m not weak.” Punch. “I have no reason to be afraid of anything.”
Liam propped his still-taped hands onto his hips and watched as she let out the pent-up anger and rage. This was the best form of therapy he’d ever found. He’d gone to a shrink one time, and that was enough to know hashing out his feelings to a total stranger who knew nothing about hurt and true pain didn’t work . . . at least not for him.
He’d had an amazing childhood with his single mother. They were inseparable . . . and then they were ripped apart by her untimely death. The foster home he was sent to looked picture perfect from the outside, as most do, but he was in a choke hold on day two. By day five, Liam had discovered if he didn’t hit back, he’d never make it.
Liam’s foster parents were in denial about the behavior of the son they were raising. The teen boy, who was four years older than Liam, had about fifty pounds on him. Liam learned to sleep with a chair beneath his bedroom doorknob, and learned to stay in the same room as the foster parents as much as possible. But there were always times when they’d be at work, leaving their oldest son in charge.
Liam continued to watch as Macy fought her own past. Just how ugly were those images rolling through her head? Liam had a feeling once he learned—and he vowed to dig deeper to find out—he’d want to hurt someone. Macy deserved all the happiness in the world and the fact that she was a victim of anything made his blood boil. He never would’ve imagined her battling her own living nightmare. He’d been so sure she had the perfect life, which she deserved, but he’d been wrong. And more than ever, he wished he’d been right.
The pounding continued and before long, Macy had a sheen of sweat covering her shoulders, her arms. Her ponytail swung against her back, and her concentration was so intense, Liam didn’t dare say a word to disrupt her. She needed this, and maybe he needed her here. Maybe he needed to see that just because they had this crackling chemistry they kept ignoring didn’t mean they couldn’t be in the same room together.
Chest heaving, Macy turned to face him. With pink cheeks, damp forehead, and strands of hair clinging to her neck, she made quite the picture. The scoop in her tank showed off damp skin and he had to fist his hands in an attempt to remind himself he had zero right to touch. The lace strap slid slightly down one toned shoulder. Liam clenched his hands at his sides. His wants and needs had no place here.
The fitted jeans and well-worn cowgirl boots only aided in the entire sexy package. She screamed down-home girl.
“I need to get one of these.” Her eyes literally sparkled. Her face, void of makeup, lit up as she smiled. “No wonder you’re so”—she waved a gloved hand up and down his body—“that way.”
He shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was. “What way am I?” he asked, tugging her gloves off and tossing them back onto the unmade bed.
With smile still firmly in place, Macy lifted a brow. “Seriously, Liam? Fishing for compliments?”
He didn’t say a word. Compliments weren’t something that came to him. Stares, whispers, questioning looks, all of that was the norm. He wasn’t vain, but he knew he wasn’t ugly before the accident. He’d dated quite a bit, had several girlfriends, in fact. There was a time he’d lost his mind and thought about looking for a long-term relationship, maybe one day even getting married.
He knew Macy had had a slight crush on him back in the day. Chelsea had hinted enough, but Liam didn’t think getting involved with his sister’s friend was the wisest move at the time.
Then Macy had gone off to college only weeks before his accident and Liam had regretted never asking her out. He’d planned to rectify that when she came home on break. Unfortunately, the next time she came home, he wasn’t in Haven any longer. The accident had changed everything inside him. He’d been so angry at the world, at Zach, at his mother for dying and leaving him. He’d wanted out, had wanted to cut all ties, so he’d gone to Savannah, where he could blend into a larger city.
That’s when he’d met Angela. She’d been amazing at first, everything he thought he needed at the time to heal. Then she showed her true self by cheating on him when someone better came along. Clichéd, yes, but there was no sugarcoating the truth.
After their relationship ended, Liam found out just how much she’d gotten around and he knew he’d been played for a fool. From then on he’d done a stellar job of keeping people at a good distance, staying alone and having a private life. He’d not let anyone even remotely close to him.
And his plan of being alone had all worked beautifully, until now.
Macy continued to stare at him. Silence surrounded them in that crackling way that made him twitchy. When she took one step forward, then another, every part of him tensed. Her eyes never wavered and he wished like hell he knew what was going through her mind—or perhaps he was better off not knowing.
The second her hand lifted, instinct had him turning away. Delicate fingers landed on his shoulder blade. “Why do you always do that? Turning won’t make anything change.”
The scar and the tension. Damn it.
“I turn away because this isn’t why you’re here.” But he couldn’t step back from her touch, not when it felt this good. He wanted her hands on him, so he was selfishly taking only a little of what she was offering.
“Look at me,” she demanded, though her tone remained soft. “You know I don’t care about a scar.”
He whirled around. “Because this didn’t happen to you. You have no clue what scars I carry.” His heart beat fast in his chest. Never had a woman been so direct about his face. Then again, he’d never given any woman the opportunity. And Macy only knew the scar she could see.
Macy swiped her damp face with the back of her forearm. “Are you ready to spill your secret yet? Let me in so I can understand.”
“Why don’t you tell me all your secrets?” he countered. No way in hell was he going to get all emotional and allow someone so sweet into his ugly past.
For several moments he stared, waiting on her to say something, to call him on the fact he countered her question with one of his own. When she said nothing, Liam spun around and made it all the way to the door when her words stopped him cold.
“I was sexually assaulted when I was eighteen.”
Reaching up, he gripped the door frame and willed himself to breathe. The image that instantly popped into his head had rage boiling within him. Just the thought of Macy alone and vulnerable made Liam want to kill this faceless bastard. He kept his hold on the frame so he didn’t punch the wall. Damn it, no wonder she’d gone at that bag like it was her enemy.
“My mother died the next day,” she went on, her voice wavering slightly. “We all have our own monsters to face. But running from them won’t change anything.”
There was something he remembered hearing, something that didn’t jive with her statement. Running was something she’d know quite a bit about. Little by little Macy’s past was falling into place and he didn’t like the picture he was seeing.
Slowly, Liam turned to face her. “What’s your degree in?�
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Macy jerked slightly. “What?”
“Your degree. What’s it in?”
Her lips thinned. “I didn’t finish.”
Bingo. That’s what he’d remembered. She’d come back home when her mother died and stayed to help her father with the store. Everyone had assumed it had been because of her mother’s death, but now Liam knew there was much more to the story. Why had she chosen now to tell him? Did she just need to finally get it out in the open?
“You stayed because you were afraid to go back.”
Those expressive eyes that were so vibrant moments ago now filled with unshed tears, angry tears. Her jaw clenched as she tipped her chin up in defiance.
“Don’t act like you know how I felt,” she accused. “Don’t pretend you know why I stayed simply because I gave you the abbreviated version.”
“Then tell me the rest.”
Liam purposely kept his tone down. She was upset enough for both of them and he was trying really hard not to smash something because so many disturbing thoughts kept filtering through his head.
At this point he needed the details so he wouldn’t explode. But on the other hand, he didn’t want her to relive the experience. Didn’t want her nightmare to come out into the open and settle between them.
“Your father doesn’t know, does he?”
Macy blinked back tears and shook her head.
“Does anybody?”
“Billy Martin and two of his friends.”
Friends. More than one guy had shaken her very foundation, had removed any light that she held within her, and had altered the rest of her future. They’d given her a reason to run away from her dreams and right back into this comfort zone. Now, years later, she still ran from the monsters who’d hurt her. But that was not an area he would tackle. Everyone ran from something at some point in life.
“Why are you telling me now?”
Macy swiped at a stray tear that slid down her cheek. “I only let you in a bit, Liam. This goes both ways.”
The meaning of her words hit him hard. She wanted in to his dark past. Not going to happen. While he was more than ready to extend an olive branch and listen to her, there was no way in hell he was opening up about his life.
Lost in You Page 8
