Page 27 of Here & There

A flash of anger washes over the old man’s face. He grips the handle of the wheelbarrow tighter.

I give him a micro-lesson on what it’s like being a woman surrounded by men like that, realizing I’m perhaps going into a bit too much detail when his face reacts with growing horror. At the end, his shoulders slump. “I never should have talked herinto taking the booking.” But he gives a curt nod a moment later. “Thank you. It looks like I’ll be taking over hospitality duties for the next week.”

I’m relieved that this part is taken care of, but that doesn’t make me feel any better about staying here tonight, or the nights after.

But I’ll deal with that later. For now, I won’t let a bunch of assholes ruin my day. I head around the wraparound porch, grimacing when I reach the front and see not only at least twenty trucks parked willy-nilly all over the front lawn, but another one rumbling up the driveway, this one splattered with mud.

Great, they’re multiplying.

I duck my head and head for the steps, planning on fully ignoring the new arrival, when I hear a deep male voice call my name. Not my real name. My new one.

“Shelby.”

I look up to see another man in plaid getting out of the new truck. He’s so big the top of the door is at his shoulders.

But it’s not a jerk—or at least not one ofthosejerks. It’s Mac.

Chapter 7

Mac

Damn, I almost forgot how pretty she was.

That’s a bald-faced lie. I didn’t forget a thing. How could I when she kept turning up in my head every day since I met her? Worse, every night? Not to mention every other second on the way over here.

“Stare much?” Nate mutters.

I glare at him. “Manners, kid. Come on and introduce yourself.”

“Why? And why are we here? I thought we were visiting the old guy today.”

I turn to him as we walk. We had to park halfway down the long gravel driveway since these assholes have monopolized the whole front area with their trucks and trailers.

Would he have been like this if I’d raised him? Is it normal teenage behavior? I have no fucking idea. But I do know I need patience. That’s what Lana keeps telling me.Kids require patience, Mac, and sometimes you’ll have to pull from your stores to get it.

“You mean your grandfather?”

Nate’s head bobs. “Sure.” He looks away like he’d rather be anywhere else.

I suddenly feel like shit. This whole life has been foisted on him by his mom. He’s doing the best he can.

“Please take out the headphones,” I say, my tone shifting enough that he rolls his eyes but plucks them out and shoves them into his pocket.

We finally reach the bottom of the stairs. Shelby’s come down a couple of steps but pauses, her hand on the banister.

When I look up at her face again, for a moment, I forget what words are.

No, she’s not just pretty. She’s…perfect. She’s wearing jeans and a white button-down shirt, with my wool sweater in place of a coat. Fuck, she looks good in my sweater. Pink high-top Chucks that look like they’ve never been worn and are going to be as muddy as my truck the minute she steps off a curb around here. A fucking ponytail that swings when she moves.

Shelby smiles at Nate, which knocks me out of my stupor.

“You remember my son, Nate?” I grumble.

“Of course.” Shelby’s smile broadens.

Nate doesn’t smile back, of course, but he has the decency to at least give a slight nod.

Shelby examines the two of us for a moment, like she sees the tension I wish wasn’t there. Then she smiles, leaning on the porch railing. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

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