Page 51 of Here & There

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry about last night,” I tell him.

Nate’s eyes go wide.

“I heard a noise, and tried to open the door, and?—”

“It was an accident,” Mac says. “Nothing happened.”

Nate’s holding the cereal box in the air, but he abruptly slides it back into the cupboard. “I’m just going to get something from the breakfast program,” he says.

“Want a ride?” Mac says.

“Hell no.”

“Language!”

“That’s what I’m speaking.”

The front door slams a moment later, and Mac leans back against the counter, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose.

My stomach twists. I could tell things are rough between them, but it’s my fault things are this bad this morning. Guilt cloaks me as I think of the way Nate’s brows pinched as he fled the kitchen. “Mac, I’m so sorry?—”

“No. Don’t be.” He heaves a sigh, then scrapes his hand down his face. “He’s never going to believe nothing happened.”

I’m so surprised at this that I let out a laugh.

Mac frowns. “What?”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think anything happened between us.”

Mac tilts his head. “Why not?”

“Because you?—”

I flush, yet again.You’re you, and I’m me.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. I take a sip of the coffee, then another, wishing I’d asked if I could take it to go instead of scalding my mouth like this. “Listen,” I say between scorching sips. I stand up, moving toward the sink, and take another sip.

“You always chug your morning coffee?” Mac asks.

“Yup!” I drain the last of it and turn my face to pant a little.

“Shelby,” Mac says, reaching out and touching my shoulder.

Even through my sweater, his hands are big and warm. I look up, pulse fluttering. What’s he going to say? That he’s flattered I keep staring at him? That I’m actually pretty cute?

All things that have been said to me by hot men before.

But Mac doesn’t say anything. He just looks down at me, searching my face. Then he leans forward, so close I breathe in his woodsmoke pine-soap salty goddamned seafaring skin. I take a shuddering breath as his arm crosses in front of me.

Then I feel the mug lift from my hand.

Mac sticks it in the dishwasher rack behind him.

“There’s an extra set of keys to my truck on the hook over there,” he says, pointing to a neat little row of keys and one fob.

I swallow hard. “Oh.”

“I have to cover some evening shifts at the pub for the next few nights, so I won’t be home much until Friday. But there’s lots of food in the fridge. Nate’ll be around but…you probably won’t get him out of his room.”

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