Despite the crowd all around us—plenty of which are friends and family—heat zings between my legs.
“It’s the same as me calling you ball cap,” I say.
“That sounds vaguely sexual too.”
“Ew.”
He laughs. It’s good to see him laughing again. He’s been so serious the past few days. Nerves, I know, leading up to this event. But sometimes I’ve caught him staring as people have come up to me while I move around his bar with my tablet, answering questions and directing people and materials. I’ve been on cloud nine being in the center of the action again, but each time I met his eye he looked away as if he wasn’t staring. He’s been looking at me the way I thought he would have if we were on our original trajectory. Like after this weekend, I’m heading home.
But now he grins, and damn if my panties don’t burn up and melt away. “Stop,” I plead. “This isn’t fair.” I lower my voice to a whisper. “I tried to get your attention this morning, but you rejected me!” Last night I had a sexy dream about him. The mansleeps next to me—that about sums up my level of attraction for Mac. Twenty-four hours a day.
“You should have called me back,” he says.
“I tried!”
“Remind me what happened again?”
“We were here, at Oysterfest, but nobody showed up. You were devastated, so I made you feel better.”
Mac gives me a wicked grin. “How about a reenactment?”
“What, now?”
He bends down and gives me a slightly too-sexy kiss, one that involves a little suck on my bottom lip. “Yeah. Now.”
Heat flares in my lower half, even as I know we can’t. The place is packed, and this is our night. “Don’t your staff need you?”
“Not right now. Chris told me I was interfering and to get lost.”
I snort with laughter. Then I check my phone. Mac’s dad isn’t coming for another hour. There is actually enough time. Just. “I guess the house is empty,” I say, my pulse picking up speed.
But Mac shakes his head. “Too far.”
“Mac!” I whisper-yell as he takes my hand and weaves us through the crowd. He’s heading toward his office. “Mac, no way! It’s too risky! People will be looking for you.”
He maneuvers me in front of him, gripping my hips from behind. “We’re not going to my office.”
He guides me toward the dark hallway in the back with the restrooms.
I suck in air. “This is even worse.”
“Just trust me.” His warm breath against the shell of my ear is distracting enough for me to let him keep us walking.
When we turn into the hallway, there’s a guy waiting outside the men’s restroom. I can hear voices in the women’s too. ButMac leads us past both doors to the end of the hall. Then he backs me up against the wall.
He rests an arm over my head, taking his hat off before leaning in to kiss my neck.
“Mac, we’re not waiting for a bathroom,” I say. It’s a statement, not a question. “I refuse.”
“I promise, no dirty toilet stall. We’re just waiting for this guy to disappear.”
There’s only one other door in this hallway—the supply closet.
“Seriously?” I whisper. “Is it big enough?”
Mac laughs softly, nipping at my earlobe.
“I mean the closet, you twelve-year-old.”