“There were a lot of replies in my head. Most of them pretty suggestive.”
His eyes seemed to plead with her to understand, and she tried to push her anger and hurt aside and listen.
“I could have gone to your room.” His face flinched minutely. “I’ve done that before.” His gaze moved to over her head. “Gone to girls’ rooms.”
She wasn’t completely shocked, but her chest sucked in painfully.
“I could’ve told you to come to me. I’ve done that before, too. Behind the garage. In the front seat of my truck. It usually involved alcohol, sometimes weed, too—it’s not hard to get.”
His fingers moved ever so slightly on her neck, and she shivered.
“Cold?” he asked immediately.
She shook her head, biting her lip and not trusting her voice.
He’d admitted that kissing girls was something he’d done a lot of, apparently. She could only imagine he’d done a lot more than kissing as well. She didn’t understand why he’d told her no when he’d told so many others yes.
He didn’t say anything more, and she decided she wasn’t going to get answers to the questions she didn’t ask.
“I don’t understand.”
His thumb skimmed across the edge of her jaw, and his eyes followed it. “I guess...I...I wanted you to be different.” He looked into her eyes. “I want to be different.”
“And you thought ignoring my text would make it different?”
“I didn’t know what to say. I know all the old lines. The ones where I get what I want and walk away when I’m done. But not the ones that build something that will last a lifetime. I didn’t know any lines like that. So, I thought I’d better not say anything. Because those are the kinds of lines that you deserve.”
And she realized that even if he did bend his head down, she couldn’t kiss him tonight. Because he was looking for forever, and she was leaving after the Christmas festival, and even if she didn’t, she’d disqualified herself from being his forever girl when she’d tried to use one of his friends and painfully told another he wasn’t good enough.
She stepped back, blowing two streams of white vapor out through a nose that was suddenly cold.
Sad.
“Thanks for being honest,” she said.
“I can give you more honesty.”
Her eyes tracked up from the top of the zipper on his coat to meet his gaze. “Hit me.” It was a phrase from cards, maybe. But she already felt like he’d given her several blows tonight. Not the close-fisted kind of her ex-husband, but the emotional blows that had her heart on its knees, gasping for breath, wiping the blood off with the back of her fist for one more round.
Hit me hard.
“I want to kiss you.”
Not what she was expecting. She shook her head slightly. “I’m not going to marry you.”
One side of his mouth kicked up in that lopsided grin that she found so irresistible she had to pull her eyes away.
“First time I ever said ‘kiss’ and the girl heard ‘marry.’”
“I’ve kissed other men, but you’re the first one I wanted to kiss.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly as though thinking about her kissing men because she had to rather than because she wanted to make him feel something.
“I thought it might be different,” she added, “kissing a man I wanted to kiss.”
“I think it would be.”
“I think so too.” She hesitated. “I’d rather know.”
“You can.”
“You just gave me a big lecture about how you’re doing things differently. I assumed that was your polite way of saying you weren’t going to kiss me.”
“No. I was trying to tell you I don’t want to be what I used to be.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That I want to treat you differently.”
“But you came out here with no gloves on.”
“I think we’re safe. It’s too darn cold to take any other clothes off.”
She felt like it was time to take a risk. It felt like a big risk to her. And she couldn’t say she didn’t feel any guilt, because she still intended to leave.
Holding his gaze with hers, she pulled at the fingers of her gloves. First one, then the other, until they both dropped down into the snow.
She lifted her brows in challenge.
“Maybe not,” he murmured.
Her hands went up, touching the strong cords of his neck, before wrapping around it and pulling him down.
He moved under her pressure, and she almost sighed in relief. He would kiss her after all. And she would know if the kiss of a man she loved was different indeed than the kiss of ones she didn’t.
His hand threaded in the back of her hair, then the other, sliding through, like the touch of her hair on his skin was something to be savored, and his head lowered.
She closed her eyes, reaching up.
“Angela?” her dad called.
Mack didn’t jerk back. But he did stop, his lips a heartbeat from hers. “This might not be the ideal time to admit this, but I have looked down the business end of a girl’s dad’s shotgun too.” He laid his forehead on hers. “That’s definitely something that’s easier to do drunk and high.”
“Yes, but it builds character when you do it sober,” she said, and she couldn’t help grinning.
“Was that your roundabout way of saying that he actually does have a shotgun?”
“If I answer that, will you promise to kiss me some other time?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be lying awake tonight plotting ways to get you alone, but not too alone. If I survive.”
“No shotgun.”
He started to sigh.
“It’s a handgun. But my mom won’t let him keep it loaded.”
“You’re serious.”
“He’s not going to shoot you while I’m standing right here beside you.”
“You’re on good terms, then?”
She laughed and stepped back, bending down to pick up her gloves. “I’m coming in, Daddy.” She took one step, then turned back to Mack, who hadn’t moved. “I don’t care about all that stuff you said. Because I know that God changes people.”
He dropped his gaze, nodding.
She wasn’t sure whether he understood that she was talking about herself too, but she supposed it didn’t matter.
Still, when she left, North Dakota would have a piece of her heart. And Mack would, too.
Chapter 13
Mack walked into the diner early the next morning. He didn’t figure Patty would care that he was taking Angela’s shift, but if she had a problem with it, it wouldn’t take Angela long to get there.
But she was fine, as he’d figured.
“You just have to wear her apron,” she said with a wink and a smile.
Mack eyed the pink, frilly apron. He looked back at Patty. He got the impression that Patty was kidding and didn’t really think he’d do it anyway.
“Pink’s my favorite color.” She had to recognize that for the joke it was, but he grabbed the apron from the hook and slipped it around his neck, tying it as best he could in a big bow that hung over the back pockets of his jeans.
“Looks good with those puppy dog brown eyes,” Patty said, then she bustled away to the kitchen.
After three hours of being on his feet and moving constantly, Mack had a new respect for waitresses. And to think that Angela, as delicate as she looked, did this for eight hours straight five days a week.
Her parents came in just a bit before eight. He was disappointed to see that she wasn’t with them, but it didn’t surprise him, either. She’d have the girls and be making pies, and his parents would be up. If he knew Angela, she’d cook for them, too.
Actually, she was probably at home doing more than she’d be doing if she were at work. He wasn’t sure if he did her a favor by taking her job or not.
Regardless, he needed to apologize to her father.
He walked over, realizing as he pul
led the notepad out of his pocket that he was still wearing the pink, frilly apron. Not what he would have chosen to face Angela’s dad in.
Too late.
“Morning, Pastor and Mrs. Davis.” He knew them from spending a month to six weeks in their town every summer for the last decade. Never thought he’d have gotten caught almost-kissing their daughter. That was definitely a surprise to him.
That and the fact that he’d pretty much spent the rest of the night last night trying to figure out where he could take her so that he could kiss her without too many interruptions or temptations and whether or not it was appropriate to kiss her in front of the girls.
He didn’t think Disney movies had the kind of kisses he wanted to give Angela.
“Good morning, young man.”
He always found it interesting the way some people could look down their nose at people even when they were looking up. Mrs. Davis had that talent.
Did she practice that in the mirror?
“I’d like a coffee with two creamers and two packets of sugar. Hot.” There wasn’t a strand of her hair out of place. Even the North Dakota wind left Mrs. Davis alone.
“I’d like a coffee, too. Black,” Mr. Davis said.
Mack scratched it down but figured he really didn’t need to. He wouldn’t have any trouble remembering.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
Mr. Davis steepled his fingers together.
Mrs. Davis spoke before he did. “For thousands of years, men have been taking advantage of women.” Her eyes moved down, then back up, making him want to squirm. He kept his feet planted. “I know your type. Angela knows it too. But after being used the way she has been, she doesn’t think she can do better.”
Ouch.
He didn’t think that was true.
Although Angela had told Boone that he wasn’t good enough. And Clay hadn’t been good enough until he’d gotten money. That had changed things.
Maybe it was true.
“She’s old enough, and she’s out of our home. She can do what she wants. If she wants to roll around in the mud or hay or whatever you guys do.” Mr. Davis’s lips flattened. “But she wasn’t raised to muck it up on the farm, and I can guarantee you she won’t be happy there.”
He supposed they were probably right. Angela had certainly been raised to be an asset to her husband, but a white-collar dude, not a man who would need her to take a tractor to the back field or be out in the barn in the middle of the night delivering a calf in below-zero weather. It was his dream eventually to own his own spread.
He’d wanted to buy Clay’s business to get a few more years of experience and a little more money saved.
But he hadn’t been planning on marrying Angela anyway.
He just wanted to kiss her.
But new Mack didn’t go around kissing just anyone.
Okay, so it was kind of a surprise to him, but subconsciously he’d been kind of thinking...yeah, Angela. Long term. With him.
Long term, like a ring.
Was that crazy?
Mav and Cord would say it was.
He had a feeling Clay knew exactly what would happen, and this was probably why he’d been okay with Mack taking Mav’s bet.
Mack was falling in love with Angela.
He walked away from the table, in a daze, not even saying anything more to the Davises.
He was falling in love with Angela?
Hadn’t planned that, or even seen it coming. Heck, he wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t using him. Didn’t know how to tell.
Her parents hated him. That wouldn’t have bothered old Mack, but new Mack was a little more concerned.
And he was planning to buy Clay’s business, which meant he’d be gone from April through Thanksgiving.
Holy smokes. He wouldn’t see her for eight months but a couple of times when they harvested in North Dakota.
The idea of going that long without her made his chest feel like it was filled with smoke. He hadn’t even kissed her. He had no idea how she even felt about him, but he didn’t want to leave her.
Putting two cups of coffee on his tray, along with the creamers and sugar, he walked back over and set them down, taking Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s orders and turning them in to the kitchen.
He wasn’t going to be able to convince them that he was good enough for their daughter. Mostly because he really wasn’t good enough for Angela. Not because of the work he did. He wasn’t ashamed of it. It was honest labor.
But he’d lightly touched on his past. There was a lot more for him to be ashamed of.
And nothing for her.
Unless he counted Clay and Boone, but he wouldn’t because she had done what she’d needed to in order to help her family. It wasn’t something he thought was right, but he could respect a sacrifice made for the good of the family. After all, if she’d do it for her parents, she’d sacrifice for her husband and children, too. Not that he’d ever want her to have to. It was the idea that that was her character.
A willingness to do whatever it took to help her family.
“Is there anything else I can get you?” he said, as he placed Mr. and Mrs. Davis’s orders on the table.
“We’re fine for now, thank you,” Mrs. Davis said in a tone that made him feel like she was a queen talking to an ant.
“Wave me down if you need anything.” His phone buzzed as he turned. He swiped, holding it to his ear as he cleaned off the next table.
“Yeah?”
“Combine’s done. It’s the one I wanted to use in the festival parade. Think you could get it?” Clay didn’t waste time talking about the weather.
Mack’s hand stilled. “It’s in the Cities, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. I’ve got the ’88 Pete here you can use, and I’ll get the oversized load permits.”
“Can you get those on Saturday?”
“Think so. Until twelve. I’ll check.”
That would be a two-day trip. His parents were here, and they might stay until he got back. He’d kinda been hoping to finish what he started with Angela last night.
“Yeah. I can’t leave until after one. You get the lowboy hooked up so I’m ready to roll, and I’ll be out, probably by two.”
“Sounds good. It’s supposed to storm next week, and I’d like to get it back here, but I can’t leave until Monday.”
“Yeah. I got it.” Clay had a wife and a child to think about. Technically, Mack wasn’t so encumbered. Except, he was figuring out, he kind of wanted to be.
The diner stayed busy all morning and straight through lunch. It was Saturday, so maybe that was why. Mack knew most of the customers, took the teasing comments about his apron, and gave a few back. All the time, he was thinking about leaving Angela and not seeing her again until Sunday night or maybe Monday. Monday afternoon after she got off work. Or later, if he was helping Clay.
While he was cleaning off a table, he was able to make a quick call to his parents and make sure they could watch the girls.
They agreed to wait to leave until Monday.
But that was only half of what he really wanted.
Finally, there was no break in the number of customers that were coming in and waiting for their food, but he put his tray down and stepped outside, leaning his head against the building, his phone in his hand.
Why not?
So, he pulled the texting app up.
Want to come with me to the Cities to pick up a combine? Two-day trip.
He didn’t have to wait long for her answer.
When?
Leaving as soon as I get off.
This time, she didn’t text right back. He had people waiting on him inside, and he couldn’t keep standing out in the cold. He needed to get back to work.
He had pushed off the wall and was tucking his phone in his pocket when her text came back.
Reina is teaching my Sunday School class. I’ll be ready when you get here. Pack a lunch?
He thought there might be a small re
frigerator in that truck, but last time he drove it, it wasn’t working.
It didn’t matter about the lunch or refrigerator or anything else. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face when he texted back. It wasn’t exactly what he wanted, but it was as close as he could get.
Just bring pie.
Chapter 14
“Oh, you’re leaving?” Mack’s mother, Glenna, said from the living room, emphasizing the word “leaving.”
“Yes. Didn’t Mack tell you? I’m going with him.”
“Oh.” Glenna’s wrinkled face crinkled even more. Her hands clasped together in front of her, and she shifted. “I thought you would be here, too. You mean I have to watch the girls for two days by myself?”
A rotten feeling stole through Angela’s stomach. A feeling like she wasn’t going to get to go with Mack, when she had been shocked, then excited, that he’d asked. She wanted to go. And couldn’t remember the last time she wanted anything more.
“I think that’s what he thought you were going to do.”
“I can’t do that.” She turned her head, looking at her husband who was sitting on the couch, watching TV with Mr. Swanson, and at the little girls who were playing with dolls on the floor. Her voice lowered. “I’m too old. Someone has to cook for them and get them baths and ready for bed. I can watch them for a couple of hours, of course, but not for two days.”
“That’s fine. I don’t need to go.” Angela couldn’t allow the girls to stay with someone who didn’t think they could take care of them, even if it was their grandmother.
Mack wouldn’t want that either. Angela had to say she was pretty impressed with how careful he was with the girls. She wouldn’t have expected that from him before she got to know him.
“Well, if you don’t mind,” Glenna said, with not much sincerity, as she turned, shuffling over to the couch and picking up her word find before sitting back down.
“Are you girls going to help me roll out the pie crust?” Angela asked.
The girls jumped up immediately, running past Angela and into the kitchen. Angela wasn’t sure how this was going to go. It wasn’t the first time she’d made pies with little kids, but Holly and Ashleigh were a bit younger than she usually worked with in the kitchen.
Cowboys Don't Stand Under the Mistletoe (Sweet Water Ranch Western Cowboy Romance Book 10) Page 11
