by Piper Rayne
“Dad’s, uh… he’s really making an effort to mend things lately,” Zoey said, as if sensing the questions bubbling away in his brain. “I encouraged Sean to spend some time with him.”
“You think he deserves another chance after ignoring you both your whole lives?” Mack couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice. There was something about Zoey that roused protective urges inside him, and he’d had to stop himself on more than one occasion from visiting Mr. Hutcherson and giving him an earful.
“Doesn’t everybody deserve a second chance?” she asked softly. “We all mess up.”
“You deserve better, Zoey. You both do.”
“What we deserve and what we get doesn’t always line up.” Something flickered across her face, but her smile was back before he had time to catch on to what she was thinking. Her silvery blue eyes held his for a moment before darting away. “Anyway, do you want a drink or anything before we get started? I can put the kettle on.”
“No thanks.”
With the way his heart was thumping a little harder looking at Zoey’s vulnerable expression and sexy outfit, he needed to get this job over with as quickly as possible. He feared the day was coming where his legendary restraint would snap like a rubber band pulled too tight, and that meant he needed to keep his distance from her as much as possible.
Because right now, he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and kiss her long and hard until every worry in her head melted away. And he knew with absolute certainty that once he kissed Zoey Hutcherson there would be no going back.
An hour later Mack had come to one simple conclusion: the food truck was a hot mess.
Whoever had owned it before Zoey had done some serious DIY—which in this case really should be called FIUY. Fuck it up yourself. Because that’s exactly what they’d done.
He’d sent Zoey inside not long after he started poking around, because her pretty scent and eager expression were distracting him. But there was no putting off the bad news—it was quite possible she’d bought herself a lemon. Of course, if she’d asked him before making the purchase instead of diving in headfirst like she always did, then he could have saved her this mistake. Apparently her father had looked over the engine, but he didn’t have the skills to check the inside of the van. And from what Mack could see, the way the wiring had been done was a fire waiting to happen and the generator looked like it was on its last legs.
Not to mention that the thing needed a deep, deep clean.
“How’s it going?” Zoey popped up outside the van.
He had the top open so he could stand up, which was how the vehicle would be used when they were serving drinks and sweet treats. There was a ledge that folded down to act as a counter. He handed his tablet to Zoey through the opening. He’d made a list of everything she’d need to get more thoroughly checked out or repaired prior to seeking insurance.
She blinked. “That’s quite a list.”
“Honestly, I’m not even sure it’s worth it.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what you paid for this piece of crap, but the work that needs to be done could easily go into five figures. Between labour, parts—”
Zoey held up her hand. “I get it.”
“Why did you come to me after you bought this thing, and not before?” He hopped down onto the driveway.
“Because you would have talked me out of it.” She was still looking at the screen.
“Exactly. Someone should have talked you out of this.”
“Why?”
“Because…” He sighed. “You have a great job working at the cafe. Your boss is a nice person, you have steady hours, and it’s secure.”
“Steady and secure,” she parroted, bobbing her head. “Those are the ingredients for a fun life, right?”
“Fun is a priority when you’re a teenager, not an adult.”
Annoyance flashed in her eyes like lightning. “That’s you projecting. You seem to think I’m still a kid when I’m very much a woman.”
Oh, he did not need to be told that. He got an unwelcome reminder every time he looked at Zoey and felt his body respond to exactly how grown up she was.
“I’m not projecting. But running a business is no small thing. You’re going to need registration for this—”
“I need a Food Act registration with the local council and separate council approval to operate in a public space. Plus, a food safety supervisor certificate which I already have from working at the cafe.” She planted both hands on her hips. “What else have you got?”
Okay, clearly she had done her research. “What if you get stranded somewhere because the truck breaks down?”
“Roadside Assistance. No different to driving my bike or a car.”
Hmm. “And you think it’s safe for you to be working on your own? What if there’s a night market?”
Her expression softened a little. “I’ll have Gwen with me. And seriously, when was the last time something bad happened around here? I was reading the local bulletin last week and the biggest news story was that Mrs. Hylander called the police on an ‘intruder’ which turned out to be a hungry possum.”
Good point.
“I… I don’t want you to make another mistake,” he added, hoping she understood that his concern came from a good place.
“Ouch. What’s one more mistake flung onto the huge pile of all the other mistakes I’ve made?” she said, handing the tablet back to him and not meeting his eye.
He felt like a dick for hurting her feelings. He needed to watch his mouth more, but years working on construction sites had whittled down his ability for nuance and finesse. Funnily enough, those things weren’t too effective with tradies.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“Yeah, you did.” She swallowed. “And that’s fine, it’s why I came to you. I know you’ll give it to me straight.”
Too straight, perhaps.
Wasn’t that what his ex-girlfriend had said to him? That his honesty was like being beaten over the head with a club? That he had a tendency to bulldoze people, even when he was trying to help? Shit. He didn’t want to do that to Zoey.
“Why don’t we head inside for a bit and I can run you through some rough costs for everything on the list, and then you can decide whether the investment is within your budget,” he suggested.
“Thank you.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I would appreciate that.”
She turned and headed towards the house, leaving him to watch the way her pretty mermaid hair tumbled down her back and the enticing way her hips swung with each step she took. Was he projecting? Or was he trying so hard to learn from the mistakes his family had made that he was piling his baggage onto her shoulders?
He’d seen the disaster brewing with his sister a mile off—the bad decisions she was making, the way she tended to act before thinking, the way she was able to convince their parents to give her anything because they loved her passion and zest for life. He didn’t want Zoey to suffer the same consequences his sister had. He didn’t want her to ruin her life the way his sister had.
She’s not your person to protect.
But it didn’t seem to matter how many times he said that to himself, the urge was still there.
Chapter Five
An hour later Zoey’s head was spinning like a top. She and Mack were sitting at her kitchen table, while he went through the list of things she need to fix in order to get the Westfalia up to scratch. It was… a lot.
But a long list wasn’t going to stop her. People around here might still see her as the rebellious teenage girl with the rainbow hair, Doc Martens, and nose ring who was always skipping school or getting sent to the principal’s office. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. Okay, sure, she still had the colourful hair that changed whenever a whim took hold of her and yeah, she still loved adding to her collection of Docs. But she’d lost the nose ring along with most of the pent-up anger that had driven her to rebel.
In fact,
the best thing she’d ever done in her life was making peace with her childhood not being perfect. She’d also made peace with the fact that her mother wasn’t interested in a relationship with her and that getting along with her father was going to take some work.
That was all fine.
Because Zoey knew the power of focusing on now. On rising above criticism and learning to forgive and being the best you that you could be. That’s how she lived her life—focusing on the positive.
“How’s your head feeling?” Mack asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.
He was standing in her kitchen, putting the coffee cups in the sink and looking like the snack he was. Yesterday he’d had that sexy, dirty look going on with stubble and a clingy T-shirt and grimy work boots. Zoey was a fan of that look. Chef’s kiss, A+ and gold stars all ’round. Yet she was equally a fan of Mack’s cleaned-up look, too—worn-in jeans, clean-shaven jaw, citrus shampoo scent mixed with a hint of woodsy deliciousness.
“Full,” she admitted. “But I’m ready for the challenge. I know you think I jump headfirst into everything without any planning, but I really have thought this through.”
Even Gwen thought she’d jumped in headfirst—but the truth was, Zoey had been craving a change for some time. She’d squirrelled away some savings and when she and Gwen had gone to the pub, the idea of the dessert food truck had bubbled up in their conversation. Zoey knew immediately it was the opportunity she’d been looking for.
“Good,” Mack replied. “Because you’re going to need it.”
She watched as he washed the coffee cups with the same level of care and attention he gave to all things. He was like the antithesis of the bad boy—he cared about his family, worked hard, was an upstanding citizen, always took the safe route.
Why did she find that so attractive?
Maybe it was something to do with the fact that she could see how his care and meticulous attention to detail would translate very well into the bedroom. Never before had she been jealous of a cup, but as she watched him dry one with a tea towel, his strong hands getting into every little corner and crevice, that’s exactly what she was.
She wanted to be handled by him.
“What?” he asked, his gaze sliding over to her as though he sensed her scrutiny.
“Have you ever made a mistake in your life, Mack? I’ve always wondered that.” She leaned against the counter next to him.
“Have I ever made a mistake?” He laughed and the sound was deep and rumbly and wonderful. “Do you mean am I actually human and not a robot?”
“I have heard you say bleep bloop bleep when you think no one is listening,” she teased.
He turned so they were facing one another. The house was still and quiet, and outside the trees shuddered in the ocean breeze. Somewhere, a kookaburra cackled. There was a thick intimacy in the air and she looked up at Mack, cataloguing the features she knew well enough to paint from memory. Full lashes, strong nose, reluctant smile, and those intense brown eyes.
“For the record,” he said, his voice a little rough. “I am not perfect. Far, far from it.”
“Liar. I bet you fold your underwear and everything.”
“Zo, you have me on a pedestal and I don’t deserve to be there. Truly.”
Was that true? Did she have him on a pedestal? It was hard not to when she’d always looked up to him. Admired him.
There was a period of time, when Zoey was seventeen, that Sean had taken off to deal with his own demons, and Mack had been there for her. He’d checked on her every few days, came to make sure the fridge was stocked, and changed her lightbulbs when they blew. He’d been the one to turn up on her birthday with a cake when she had felt utterly and hopelessly alone. There’d been times when it felt like he was the only person in the world who cared about her.
But she also wanted to shake that image out of his head. She wasn’t a girl who needed a protector anymore. She wasn’t someone who needed saving. She’d worked hard to save herself.
“Well you have me in a box and I don’t deserve to be there.”
He blinked. “I don’t have you in a box.”
“Yes, you do.” She nodded. “You think I’m a disaster waiting to happen.”
“Not true.”
“You think I’m immature and impulsive. You think because of the way I act and the things I want that I’m setting myself up for failure.”
“What do you want?”
The question felt like he’d pulled the pin on a grenade. Zoey sucked in a breath and counted out the seconds. One, two, three…
But her answer remained the same.
You.
She leaned into him, her hand coming to his chest. Her fingertips delighted in the contrast between the solid wall of muscle beneath the touchable cotton of his T-shirt. Like everything about him, it was a perfect dichotomy of hard and soft. Because Mack encompassed both elements—at times he was rigid and overbearing and yes, even pigheaded. But under that was a deep well of goodness that he showered on those he loved.
You think he loves you? Responsibility and love are not the same thing.
But as he closed his hand over hers, warmth in his touch and fire in his whisky eyes, Zoey released her doubts into the world. She would prove to him, like she would prove to everyone else in Patterson’s Bluff, that she was a strong, smart woman capable of making good decisions.
And right now, good decisions involved kissing Mack.
Rising up on her tiptoes, she wound her free arm around his neck and pressed her body to his. “This is what I want.”
“Zoey…” His breath was ragged as the cliff-faces that lined their town.
She brought her other hand around his neck and left him no choice but to respond. Would he push her away or pull her closer?
His hands skimmed along her hips, his thumbs smoothing up and over the waistband of her skirt to brush against her bare skin. Her heart thundered in her chest. For so many years she’d dreamed about this moment—fantasised about it, sketching into the darkness as she lay awake at night.
“You asked what I wanted,” she whispered. “And it’s this. It’s always been this.”
His eyes were dark and smoky, and he lowered his head so that his lips hovered inches from hers. She felt his hands tighten at her hips, felt the tension rolling off him in waves. He wanted her too. For the first time ever, she knew she wasn’t the only one who wanted this to happen.
The slamming of a car door outside was like someone firing off a rifle into the quiet air. Mack jumped, startled, and snatched his hands away from her as if he’d been burned.
No, no, no!
The moment was shattered. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoey saw Sean striding up the driveway. Mack turned away from her, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“I should get going,” he said.
She nodded, biting down on her lip to keep a protest inside. “Sure.”
Mack headed outside and she watched him and Sean chatting and laughing next to the ugly green food truck. It was like the almost-kiss never happened.
But if Mr. Too Sensible For His Own Good thought she wasn’t going to bring this up the next time she had the chance, then he was sorely mistaken.
Chapter Six
One week later…
Mack did his best to avoid Zoey after their almost-kiss. Well, he avoided her physically. He didn’t, however, manage to avoid her in his head. That moment played on loop night after night—details etched into his brain as though carved into stone, never to be erased. He lost himself in the memory of her sweet floral scent and the silkiness of her skin and the warm pressure of her body against his, reaching for himself under the cloak of darkness in a desperate attempt to absolve his frustration.
But the sad fact of it was, his own hand was a poor match for a woman’s touch. For her touch.
Still, he was doing what he did best—taking the safe route. He sent her calls to voicemail and responded to her texts with short responses, claiming he was
swamped with work. Did he feel bad about it? Sure. But was it the right thing for his sanity? Absolutely. He figured Zoey would get the hint, eventually. If she needed his help with the food truck, then he would be there. But for everything else… no can do.
The last thing he needed in his life was to be tempted by someone who had the power to upset the careful balance he prided himself on maintaining.
But it appeared Zoey had other plans.
He saw the dust being kicked up by the motorcycle before he heard the rumble of the engine, thanks to the jackhammer going off and the sound-deadening earmuffs clipped to his hard hat. It wasn’t the cloud that clued him in to the identity of his unwanted visitor, however. It was the ripple of awareness that ran through the construction crew, distracting the men from their work as they watched a woman ride up to the front of the site.
Shit.
Zoey was not going to take a hint, like he’d hoped. A few workers wandered to the front of the site—a small complex of units aimed at creating affordable housing for first home buyers—and watched the woman dismount from her bike. At least Zoey had a pair of jeans on today, because those bare legs could very well be his undoing.
He took his hard hat and earmuffs off in time to hear a wolf whistle cutting through the air. Seeing red, he stalked across the site ready to grab the guy who’d dared whistle. Nick had strong feelings about his men not doing that kind of disrespectful shit, but some of the old dogs were struggling to learn that particular trick.
“Hey Mack.” Zoey had her helmet tucked under one arm, and she smiled slyly at him as he approached.
