by Harlow James
“You okay, man?” He asks as I focus on the task at hand, avoiding his gaze.
“Yup, just fine.”
“You’re sure? You seem kind of edgy …”
“I’m fine, Kyle,” I reply, cleaning up my mess and trying to prepare myself to lay on the charm tonight. I finish cleaning and then rush to the sink to wash my hands, scrubbing away like a mad man while I try to calm my nerves.
It’s Tuesday night, and if I know McKenzie as well as I think I do, she should be strolling through the aisles of the store within the hour. Yeah, I know it sounds a little creepy, but I’ve been watching this woman from the moment I saw her open up a package of Keebler M & M cookies and shove an entire cookie in her mouth. I’ve got it bad, and after she turned me down the other night, a newfound determination has sparked within me.
I know we could be great together. I know I can offer her everything that she’s looking for, even though I’m fairly certain I’m younger than her. But hey, age doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of life, and I happen to like older women. They’re past the drama of their twenties and are more aware of what they’re looking for in a man as well.
After Friday night, she may think I’m overly confident, but I know what I want in my life. I want to marry my best friend and raise a gaggle of kids. I want to coach football and little league games and fall into bed with my woman at the end of the day, knowing she feels loved and cherished and that’s all because of the love that I show her.
And even though McKenzie can deny it all she wants, there’s a definite mutual attraction between us, and that’s usually the first piece of every great love story—undeniable chemistry.
I’m not going to let her shoot me down once and think that’s the end of it. Nope, this girl doesn’t know just how determined I can be once I get my sights set on something—and now she’s going to find out. That little twinge of uncertainty that was resting in my stomach when I first made contact has now vanished, and sheer determination is now burning in its place.
I head toward the counter to help out a customer pick out some ribeye steaks when the flash of red hair I couldn’t miss if I tried wafts past my peripheral vision. Her hair is up on her head tonight with a navy knitted headband covering her ears, warding off the chill in the air I know is present outside. She pauses in her steps with her back to me to scour the chips on the end cap of an aisle, giving me a perfect view of that ass covered in black yoga pants that has been burned into my retinas for all eternity.
How any self-respecting man could ever prefer a rail-thin woman to one with a little meat on her bones is beyond me. I need something to hold on to, the soft curves of a woman that make me go insane as I itch to touch every inch of her skin and light her body on fire. I’ve envisioned committing McKenzie’s body to memory from my touch for weeks now, but patience is definitely going to help me out in this situation. She’s obviously attractive, but beyond that, the need to know all of her is pulling me towards her like a magnet.
As she turns, her head sashays back and forth as if she’s disappointed in herself and then when I can see her face, her hand raises as she lifts a … carrot to her mouth? What the fuck is she doing eating a carrot?
“There you go, Sir. Let me know if there’s anything else I can get for you.” I hand the customer his steaks with a smile, and then call out to McKenzie before she leaves the vicinity.
“Mac.”
Her eyes search me out and locate me almost instantaneously. “What did I tell you about calling me Mac?” she asks as she pushes her cart, stopping right in front of me on the other side of the display case.
“Well, I would have called you Cookie Monster, but it’s hard to do that when you’re eating a carrot.” I point to the orange nub left in her hand as she stares down at it with contempt. “What are you doing eating a carrot, Mac?”
She shrugs and then pops it in her mouth, chewing loudly like she’s Bugs Bunny. “I need to stop eating cookies while I shop. My ass is getting out of control.”
I fight to hide my grin because her out of control ass is one of the things I love most about her. “I beg to differ. I happen to be quite fond of your ass.” Shit, I hope that comment doesn’t put her off.
Her eye brows raise as her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink and I watch her fight a smile. “Is that so?”
“You should be proud of your curves, Mac. They help remind guys like me that you’re all woman.”
Her eyes find the floor as her lips curl up. “Yes, well I still need to maintain some balance in my diet. You know, cover every section of the food pyramid.”
“Yeah, but raw carrots?” I ask, leaning over the counter so I can catch a whiff of her scent. The smell of vanilla that I caught at Perry’s Pub the other night infiltrated my nose and hasn’t left. I can’t tell if it’s her body spray or her shampoo, but either way, she smells good enough to eat. I wonder if she’s just as sweet in other places. “That’s like the most disgusting raw vegetable ever, unless they’re smothered in ranch.”
She sighs. “Agreed. These carrots taste like I hate my life right now.”
I chuckle and then reach for my secret weapon, a little sweet treat I scored from the bakery as soon as Glenda, the head baker, took them out of the oven. I was hoping for some interaction tonight where I could tease her with my inside hook-ups of the job.
“Here.” I hand her the chocolate chip cookie that’s still warm over the counter and her eyes light up.
“Dylan …”
“It’s still warm,” I whisper as she intercepts my offering and smells the treat.
“Oh, God,” she moans, closing her eyes before taking a bite and making sounds any red-blooded male would respond to with the stiffing of his dick.
“Much better than Keebler, isn’t it?” I watch her face contort as she chews, the few crumbs sticking to her lips before her tongue swipes out to claim them. Damn, I can’t wait until I can claim her lips too.
She finishes chewing her bite before answering. “So good. Thank you. That was very sweet.”
“No problem, Cookie Monster. And hey,” I pause as she anticipates what I’ll say next. “If you want to eat a cookie, Mac… eat the fucking cookie. Don’t worry about your body because I think it’s fucking perfect.”
Her smile holds me captive, making my heart thump wildly in my chest. That look right there—when a woman hears praise for her body from an outsider instead of the self-deprecating thoughts that plague her mind daily—that’s the look that sparks my desire to make her look at me like that every day. I want this woman, but I know she’s got to get over her own obstacles before she’ll let me in.
“Dylan …” she starts, but then Kyle yells for me from the freezer. I turn to see him waving me toward him, and I’ve never hated him more than I do in this moment.
“Sorry, Mac. I gotta go. Enjoy the cookie.” I flash her a wink and then turn on my heels, trying not to skip in excitement over that small bit of progress I made with her tonight. I resist the urge to sneak a peek of her over my shoulder too, curious if she’s watching me walk away.
But if by the way my butt is tingling right now, I’d say she is.
Chapter 6
McKenzie
“You’re at the park?” Brooke’s voice comes through my ear phones since I was listening to music on my phone when she called.
“Yeah, the weather was just too beautiful today to pass up. It’ll probably be freezing tomorrow, and then once winter really hits, I’ll be stuck inside again. But this fall air is giving me life right now, Brooke. Sometimes the fresh air is good for my creativity too.” I finish the sentence I was working on and then click save before reaching for my coffee and taking a sip, inhaling the crisp fall air around me once I swallow. I close my eyes and lean my head back, savoring the way the air feels on my skin.
“Understandable. So, how’s it going? You haven’t sent me anything in almost a week.”
“I want to make sure I get to a certain part before I sen
d you what I have. But I’ve got to say, I’m loving how this is turning out.” I drop my head back down and admire the scenery around me. Orange and red leaves, wild green grass beneath my feet, and tall trees casting shadows from the sun above encapsulate me in this park I’ve grown to love just a mile down the road from my house.
Brooke squeals. “Ah! I can’t wait! I think this is gonna be a hit for you, Mac. Has Dylan given you anymore inspiration?”
My mind flashes back to our interactions Tuesday night. I swear, I was about to drop my pants for him right there in the store when he handed me that warm chocolate chip cookie. Glenda and the bakers sure know how to make a cookie that would put your grandmother’s secret recipe to shame. And the fact that Dylan had it ready and waiting for me is something I haven’t let escape my mind.
The guy is baffling me. I thought for sure after I expressed my concern with going on a date with him at Perry’s that things would have been more awkward between us, but surprisingly, it was as if he were waiting for me to show up the other night. And if I’m being honest, the idea of seeing him again too made my pulse spike and a giddiness flow through me. His gesture, although defeating the purpose of snacking on carrots, was thoughtful and intriguing. He must have been anticipating seeing me to have that cookie ready for me at the drop of a hat.
And as much as I hate to admit it, his words have been spinning in my mind for days now. “This isn’t over, McKenzie.”
Why does the idea of seeing him again make me antsy and want to go grocery shopping again when I really don’t need any more food in my house?
Because you like the guy, McKenzie, and that’s exactly what you didn’t want to happen.
Shit. I think I do. I shouldn’t, but his looks alone are hard to resist. And now add in the fact that he’s thoughtful, the perfect amount of flirtatious and more intriguing than I thought, and I have a recipe for complication with an added pinch of lust.
He was just my neighborhood market butcher a few weeks ago, and now he’s the guy I want to know more about, even though it kills me to admit that. And it’s not just for my story—the man himself is so genuine and easy going that his personality and smile is drawing me in every time I see him.
“Well, I haven’t seen him since Tuesday when I went grocery shopping,” I reply, internally wrestling with myself over making some excuse to go to the store in hopes of running into him. I don’t even know his work schedule, so I’m not sure that he’d be there.
“Girl, you need more interactions with him. It’s going to help the story.”
I let out a long sigh and take a sip of my coffee. “I don’t want to use him, Brooke. And this character is definitely starting to look and sound a lot like him.”
“Do you really think he would ever know you’re writing a story about him? Do you think hunky Dylan, the grocery store butcher, reads romance novels in his spare time?”
Her bluntness makes me laugh. “You never know. There are actually quite a few men who read romance to get inside the female psyche. And, there are more male authors emerging on the scene too,” I state proudly.
“Okay, point made. I’m just saying, he’s not going to find out, so why not kill two birds with one stone? Give in to your attraction to the man and do some research for your book.”
“You sure are convinced I have the hots for this guy …”
She huffs. “I know you do. I can hear it in your voice and it’s apparent in your writing, Mac. The way you describe him, how he interacts with the heroine… it’s as if you’re giving me a glimpse of how you really think of him.” Jeez, am I really that transparent? “But don’t get me wrong… what you’ve written is fantastic, and I think that’s because it’s based on reality, not just an idea.”
“Brooke,” I start, ready to argue with her about how detrimental that choice to pursue him could be, but then a football goes whizzing past my face, almost knocking my coffee cup from my hands.
“Shit!” My heart pounds wildly against my ribcage as short breaths enter and leave my lips. On instinct, I reach for my laptop and secure it in my hand as if a swarm of footballs may follow and I can protect it from devastation.
“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Are you okay… Mac?” A man comes racing towards me with wide eyes, slowing down as he get closer. But as I make out his face, I’d bet mine are wider right now.
Brooke’s squeal comes through the line as I stare up into the magnetic blue eyes of Dylan. “Is that Dylan?” she asks.
“Brooke, I gotta go. I’ll call you back.”
“What? No …”
I press end on the call and then stare at the man in front of me, his smiling building as we take each other in.
“Hey, Mac. I’m so fucking sorry we almost hit you with the ball.”
With my heart still pounding, I answer breathlessly. “It’s okay. I got lucky, I guess. It just missed me.”
“Well, apparently I got lucky too since I get to see that gorgeous face of yours on a day other than Tuesday. What are you doing here?” His eyes penetrate mine before they scour the park as a whistle blows behind him. Spinning toward the sound, a woman calls out to him.
“Dylan! Hurry up!”
“I’ll be right there!” he calls back, finding my eyes once again when he’s through.
“Well, I was minding my own business, trying to get some work done before I was almost decapitated by a football,” I reply with a teasing tone.
He grins and then grips the back of his head, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah, my bad. I am trying to teach a bunch of ten year old’s how to play football, but their noodle arms can be quite unpredictable sometimes.”
I try to hide my laugh behind my lips. “Oh, the poor gangly phase of being a pre-teen. Can’t say I miss those days.”
“Me neither.”
I eye him skeptically. “I have a hard time believing you went through any awkward phases though, Dylan.”
He flashes me that smirk that kick starts my libido and then takes a seat on the bench beside me as I close my laptop and hold it in my lap. “Believe me, I was not the virile man back then that I am now.” He flexes his biceps in mockery, but all it does it make a hot flash come over my body. Damn, this guy is fine and so cheesy that it’s cute.
“Clearly your cockiness grew along with your muscles then,” I tease.
“Not cockiness. Confidence,” he states, shifting his weight.
“To-may-to, to-mah-to. So, are you coaching or something?”
He nods. “Yeah. My nephew is on the team.”
“Well, that’s nice of you.”
Seriously? He coaches his nephew’s pee-wee football team? How can I continue to resist this guy when he just keeps giving me reasons to strip for him?
Sorry, ladies, but please agree with me here. When a man sacrifices his time to coach kids, that’s instant lady boner material, am I right?
“Dylan! Stop flirting and get over here!” That same woman from before stands across the field with her hands on her hips, flashing her irritation across the distance.
“Uh, you’d better go before she murders you with just her eyes.”
Dylan stands as he laughs. “Oh, don’t worry. If I’ve survived this long under the wrath of my sister, I’m sure I’m in the clear.” He smiles at me, reaching out to tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear, eliciting goosebumps all over my skin which is thankfully covered by enough clothes to hide my reaction. “You gonna let me take you out yet, Mac?”
“Well, that came out of left field,” I say on a chuckle.
“No, the football did,” he jokes, grinning at me as he stands above my seated spot on the bench. “I’ve told you I want to take you on a date, and I’m trying to be patient, but seeing you right now just reminds me that patience is overrated.”
I stare up at him, my mind racing along with my approval of his appearance. He has a backwards ballcap on, a long sleeve grey t-shirt that is clinging to the well-defined chest I suspected he has, and da
rk blue track pants that are perfect for running around in. He looks delectable, and it’s making it very hard to say no.
My pulse skyrockets as I contemplate an answer. I know what my body wants, but I don’t think my mind is on board yet. This could get complicated, and I’m finally in the zone on this book. Brooke did suggest that spending time with him would be good research though, so if I use that as my reasoning, I can say I’m doing it for the greater good of my craft, right?
Going on a date doesn’t have to be more than just two people enjoying each other’s time and a meal together. If things don’t work out, I can let him down gently like an adult since I am one and all. I’m at the point in my life where I can be honest about my feelings, except with myself of course because who has perfected that?
“Dylan!” his sister screams once more as he breaks the trance between us before I can answer.
“Calm down, Robyn!” he yells back and then faces me once more. “It was nice to see you again, Cookie Monster, but I’ve got to go. I’ll have a fresh cookie for you again on Tuesday.” He winks, a move I’ve come to expect from him when he leaves me, and then reaches down to fetch the ball a few feet away from the bench before jogging back to his original spot in the park.
A swarm of ten year old boys gather around him and his sister before he crouches down and starts talking to them about something, gripping the football in one of his very large hands.
For a second there, I was inches away from screaming yes, acting impulsively, and choosing to live out the types of scenarios I create in my stories. But then that uncertainty made me pause, relinquishing the opportunity to give him an answer before he was pulled away.
With my laptop still pressed against my chest, my coffee in hand, and my heart racing uncontrollably, I stare off across the park, watching Dylan move around the kids, pausing to correct one’s form or explain a play to another. Miniature bodies covered in helmets too big for them stumble along the grass, making me chuckle.
And then Dylan peeks over at me still sitting here, smiling from ear to ear as he juts his chin in my direction, causing a twitch to pulse between my legs.
