by Brenda Novak
Pushing him up against the tile, she licked the water running down his neck, his chest, his torso and his hip as she moved lower—expressing everything she felt but couldn’t say using action—and heard him moan as she sank to her knees and took him in her mouth.
* * *
Natasha was making dinner when Mack came up behind her. He didn’t touch her. They were trying not to be too physical in front of Lucas. But she could tell that he wanted to. Their experience in the shower had changed him. He’d quit holding back. Although Lucas had gotten up from his nap almost as soon as they’d turned off the water, and she’d slipped out of the bathroom as though she’d been in there alone and distracted her son with a snack so that Mack could get out without being seen, she knew from now on that she and Mack would probably have sex whenever they had the opportunity. They wouldn’t be able to stop themselves. They were becoming more and more familiar with each other in that way, more and more conditioned to the fulfillment that intimacy provided.
She was pretty sure this change—the snapped restraint—was what Mack had been warning her about on the beach. He’d been trying to tell her that if they didn’t stop letting themselves cross that line, they soon wouldn’t be able to keep from crossing it, and if an intimate relationship didn’t work out for them in the end, they might later regret the loss of the friendship and support they’d always given each other before.
And he could be right. But how did she turn away what she’d always wanted, even if she didn’t know if it would last?
“What time is Lucas going to bed?” he asked.
She knew why he wanted to know. The shower had been an incredible encounter, but it hadn’t lasted nearly long enough. He wanted more, and she was just as anxious for night to come. “He doesn’t normally take a nap—not anymore—so I don’t expect him to go to bed too early.”
“Damn.”
She chuckled as Lucas, who was pretending to ride a horse, galloped up the stairs into his room. “I take it you’re not sleeping on the couch tonight,” she murmured, putting her spatula on the counter as she turned to face him.
His gaze lowered over her. He was undressing her with his eyes—didn’t even bother to hide it. “I’m mad that I slept there last night.”
Rising up on tiptoe, she licked his bottom lip. “Yet you think what we’re doing is a mistake.”
His hands went around her waist as though he’d draw her back to him, but Lucas threw the basketball down and came after it, and Mack let go of her. “Even if it is, that ship has sailed.”
“Want to play with me, Mack?” Lucas asked, once he’d reclaimed his basketball.
“Sure, buddy,” Mack told him. “In a minute.” He nudged her. “Where’s your phone?”
She reclaimed her spatula. “I don’t know. It’s around here somewhere. Why?”
“I want to see if Ace has had anything to say. You haven’t heard from him, have you?”
“I haven’t checked since we’ve been home.” She went back to stirring the ground beef she was browning for tacos. “But I hope I haven’t heard from him. I hope I haven’t heard from his parents, either. Although I admit their silence is a little ominous. What if they’re getting a lawyer?”
“It’s the weekend.”
“That doesn’t matter. His parents are very well-connected. They probably have half a dozen attorney friends they could call.”
“Still, I doubt they’d do that. They’re probably letting Ace take the lead—at least, that’s what they should do. After all, he’s not a child. And I’m assuming they’re all smart enough to know that they should wait until the results are in before they make those kinds of decisions.”
“Maybe you’re right. Ace only picks fights he knows he can win, so he might be holding off.”
“Is that why he hasn’t responded to my messages?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” She doubted Ace would ever willingly tangle with Mack. She’d said too much about Mack and his brothers through the years. He knew they weren’t likely to put up with much.
While looking for her phone, Mack came close enough to her to lower his voice. “Did you love him, Tash?”
She knew he was talking about Ace, so she didn’t ask him to clarify. “I tried,” she replied.
“But...”
She’d loved Mack instead. She’d always loved Mack, and all the self-talk in the world couldn’t seem to change that. “I did my best. It just...didn’t work.”
“There it is.”
She turned to see him pointing at her phone on the far counter. “Anything?” she asked when he walked over to pick it up.
“Nope.”
“Good.”
“You think he’ll give us trouble even if—” he jerked his head at Lucas “—you know...he technically shouldn’t? After all, he raised him for six years. I doubt I could walk away at that point, regardless of the DNA results.”
“I’ve been wondering that myself.”
“What’s your guess?”
“You love more fiercely than he does.” Which was why Mack rarely allowed someone into his inner circle. He was careful about the people he loved because he stood by them through thick and thin. All the Amos brothers were like that. When they fell, they fell hard.
Ace, on the other hand, seemed to slip in and out of love quite easily. And no one could rely on him, even his parents. From what Natasha had seen while they were married, he just manipulated them to get whatever he wanted. “You’d hang on. But I’m not convinced he will. Lately, he hasn’t shown a great deal of interest in being a father—although it could be that he’s just hoping, if I have to babysit all the time, I won’t be able to go out and meet someone else.”
Mack put down her phone, took the ball from Lucas and showed him, once again, how to dribble. “You told me he asked for the divorce.”
“He did. But I think it surprised him when I agreed.”
“He thought you’d fight him?”
“He threatened divorce whenever he couldn’t get his way. He knew how badly I wanted our marriage to succeed, so he used its potential failure as a weapon against me. It usually worked. But the last time he tried that trick, I threw up my hands and said, ‘Do it.’”
“How’d he respond?” Mack asked.
“He tried to convince me that he didn’t really want out after all. But by then I was done. Whatever we’d had was gone. I could no longer continue to fight for something that wasn’t fulfilling to begin with.”
Mack’s own phone went off. He pulled it from his pocket while Natasha began to stuff the tortillas with meat. “This is interesting,” he said.
“What is it?” she asked.
He walked over to show her. “Grady just sent me this picture.”
She frowned as she looked down at the screen. Grady had stumbled upon their father making out with her mother at the local bar and taken a short video of them, which he was apparently sending to a group text that went to all five Amos brothers, along with the message, Unbelievable...
A message from Rod came in while she was looking at it. Oh God. That’s trouble.
Natasha sighed. She always felt awkward when her mother did something embarrassing. She could see why Mack and his brothers weren’t excited about J.T. and Anya getting back together; Anya had given them plenty of reason to be leery of her. But even after all the years she’d been dealing with her mother, Natasha felt torn. Anya was, after all, her only blood relative—at least, that she had any contact with—and it was almost impossible to root out the loyalty that inspired. “Maybe it’ll work this time,” she said. “There must be some reason they keep getting back together.”
Another text—this one from Dylan—popped onto Mack’s screen. The timing of it, and what he’d written, made it seem as if he was responding specifically to what she’d just said. Can anyone say codependent?
“Their relationship is a drug-and alcohol-fueled frenzy,” Mack said. “Maybe it’s been too long since you’ve witnessed one of their fights.”
“They got along surprisingly well the first few years, when I was around. But they were still living with you when I went away to college, and that’s when it all went bad, so I imagine you saw a lot more than I did.”
He whistled. “They got vicious with each other.”
“I’m sorry that she won’t move on. I’ve told her and told her not to lean on you guys, but now that I don’t have anything to give her, she’s probably circling back, looking for another place to get what she needs—”
“Hey.” He caught her by the arm. “She’s responsible for what she does, not you.”
She bit her lip as she tried to examine her feelings. “My head tells me that, but—” she groaned “—it’s always been so humiliating being her daughter.” Especially when it came to the Amos brothers, because Natasha cared so much about them and their opinion, and her parasitic mother had taken advantage of them for so long.
“I know,” he said and kissed her temple. “But it’s no reflection on you. Look at what you’ve accomplished. And you did it even though you didn’t have the support most kids do. You’re a doctor, Tash. A freakin’ doctor! You made it through a decade of incredibly difficult challenges to achieve your dream. And you did it on your own.”
“Not on my own,” she argued. “You and your brothers helped give me a start when you paid for some of my living expenses that first year at college, not to mention my plane fare to get there in the first place. You even bought me some decent clothes. I want you to know how much I appreciate it, and that I’m sorry I screwed it all up by hiring a psychopath for a nurse—”
He shot her a quelling look. “Let’s not talk about that murderous bitch anymore.”
“Bitch? Did you say bitch, Mack?” Lucas asked.
He ruffled her son’s hair. “I said witch. Like the kind that casts spells.” He lifted his gaze back to her. “Anyway, what that nurse did does not take away from what you’ve accomplished. I’m so proud of you.”
She didn’t know how to react when he said stuff like that. While it was flattering, it sounded a little too much like what a brother might say to a sister, and she’d always been terrified that Mack would classify her, once and for all, as “family,” even though she’d never felt anything remotely platonic where he was concerned. With the way they’d met and her age at the time, it would be easy for him to consider her out of bounds. No doubt his brothers wished he would.
But no matter what happened, they always came back together.
They just couldn’t seem to stay that way.
* * *
Aiyana Buchanon called Natasha after dinner to talk about a boy they had coming to the school this week. From what Mack could tell overhearing Natasha’s side of the conversation, the child had been abused or something, so to give Natasha the chance to speak freely, he’d volunteered to put Luke to bed. What she was dealing with sounded important. Although he could hear the drone of her voice as she sat out on the porch steps, he couldn’t make out the individual words, and for that he was glad. As a pediatrician, especially one working for the kind of troubled kids who attended this school, Natasha would have to deal with such things. He knew, with her inherent kindness, she’d be good at it. But since there wasn’t anything he could do to contribute to the situation, he preferred not knowing the dirty details. Hearing about it would just make him mad.
“Mack?” Lucas said as he cuddled up close.
“What, buddy?”
“Are you my friend?”
Mack couldn’t help smiling at how adorable his child was—if Luke was his child. He’d been trying not to assume too much, but he was beginning to feel attached. “Of course I am.”
“Will you always be my friend?”
Mack cleared his throat. They might soon learn that they were a lot more than friends. “I hope so.”
Apparently, Lucas wasn’t satisfied to only lie next to Mack. He kept wiggling, trying to get more comfortable, and after he finished moving around, he was halfway on top of Mack. “Can we play basketball again tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“In the morning? When I wake up?”
“Probably tomorrow night, after we all get home.”
“Home from where?”
“Your mother has to work, so you’ll be at day care.”
“But I don’t want to go to day care!” he protested. “I want to stay with you!”
“I won’t be here, bud. I have to go to LA.”
“For what?”
“To meet a commercial real estate agent.”
“What for?”
“She’s going to help me find something I’m looking for.”
“What are you looking for?”
He laughed. The questions just kept coming. “A place to run my business.”
“What’s a business?”
“I fix cars that have been wrecked or damaged.”
“Oh,” he said, as if he finally understood, even though Mack doubted he did.
“Mack?” Lucas said again.
“What?”
“Can I go with you?”
Mack supposed it probably wouldn’t be a big deal if Lucas came along. The agent he was meeting would make a sizable commission if she showed Mack a location that he ended up leasing, so he couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t be accommodating. “Maybe.”
“Does maybe mean yes?” he asked.
Laughing again, Mack said, “That’s an age-old debate among men. As one dude speaking to another, I’d advise you to assume it means no.”
“What’d you say, Mack?”
“Never mind,” he said.
“So...can I go with you?”
“You’re going to make a very good salesman, you know that?”
“What’s a salesman?”
“If I can take you with me tomorrow, you’ll meet one.”
“Okay.”
Lucas fell silent. Mack thought he might finally be going to sleep, but a few seconds later, he lifted his head and got very close to Mack’s face. “I love you, Mack,” he whispered, spontaneously.
Mack had no defense against the sweetness of this declaration. He’d done everything possible to protect his heart from Natasha. But he realized in that moment that he was completely vulnerable to Luke, because he’d fallen in love, too. Mack wanted to protect him against anything and anyone who would ever hurt him, and that instinct was so strong it surprised him.
It also frightened him. Obviously, he was breaking his own cardinal rule and starting to care too much.
After that, Lucas continued to talk, speaking again and again just when Mack thought he might be drifting off. It took a while, but once he did fall asleep, the one thing that kept going through Mack’s mind was Lucas’s young voice piping up in the dark room: “I love you, Mack.”
Although fate hadn’t been kind to Mack during his own childhood, if it had conspired to bring him the chance to know he was Luke’s father while there was still time to be involved in his young life, he’d consider himself far luckier than most. If Natasha had stayed with Ace, it could easily have gone a different way. It wasn’t as if Mack would ever have done anything to mess up her marriage. He’d assumed she was happy.
The DNA test results should be up tomorrow.
Briefly, he thought of how he’d feel if he didn’t get the answer he was hoping for, but, shoving that from his mind, he slipped out of bed, pulled the covers up and kissed Lucas on the temple.
Eighteen
When Natasha woke up, the sun was hitting the sheet she’d tacked over the window, which looked out on an alley below and the du
mpsters from the commercial businesses on either side of her, but there was no noise. It was early yet. Although she could’ve used more sleep, she was glad to have a few minutes while Mack was still passed out to enjoy lying on his chest. Last night they’d made love again, much more gently and slowly than they had in the shower. It was particularly memorable because it was somehow different from any of the times before—there was less lust and more of something else. But she was afraid to try to define what that “something else” was for fear she’d imbue it with too much meaning.
Assuming Mack felt more than he did was what had always gotten her in trouble.
Forcing her mind away from the memory of last night, she reminded herself, once again, to take what they were doing in stride. She’d agreed to keep it physical, and she was going to stand by her word. Something was better than nothing, especially now, when she was so broken and lost and lonely. Maybe he’d stick around long enough that she could get back on her feet.
What would he do if it turned out that Lucas belonged to Ace? Would he decide there was no reason to move to LA? Stop visiting? Would even the physical part of their relationship be over? Six hours was a long time to drive for sex when he could so easily find a woman in Whiskey Creek or nearby Sacramento. It wasn’t as if he’d ever had any trouble getting laid.
“Did I miss the alarm?” he mumbled, one arm curving to hold her more tightly against him.
Fear of what this day would hold made her so nervous she wouldn’t be able to eat, not until the butterflies in her stomach settled down. Maybe Mack had been able to feel her fear and dread, and that was what woke him, because she’d been so careful not to move. “No. It hasn’t gone off yet.”
He scrubbed his free hand over his face. “Then what are you doing up?”
“Thinking.”
“About...”
“Bella.”
He covered a yawn. “Who’s Bella?”
“That woman you brought home one night—just before I left for college.”
She felt him tense. “I don’t remember her,” he said. Then, more gruffly, “Why are you thinking about her, anyway?”
