Page 61 of Here & There

“I’ve got another plate of them keeping warm in the oven,” I say, pulling Mac’s cardigan tighter over my shoulders as I stand up. It’s not quite warm enough to be sitting out here, though the heavy sweater and the heat lamp make it so I haven’t been uncomfortable.

But Mac stands abruptly. “I’ll go.”

I’m not sure if it’s the fact that I’m working on my second glass of wine or what, but Mac seems softer somehow when he looks at me.

And it’s doing things to my insides.

The moment Mac’s in the house, Cal leans forward. “I don’t know if you guys drugged the burgers or what, but whatever it is, keep doing it. I don’t think I’ve seen that guy almost smile so much since…well, since you turned up, Nate.”

“Those are smiles?” I ask. Then I register Cal’s weird wording.

Turned up.

“Yeah,” Nate says, to what I’m not sure. But he takes a big chug from his glass of root beer and only half suppresses a giant belch immediately afterward. It sounds remarkably like a foghorn.

We all fall over ourselves laughing, even Nate.

I don’t know when it happened—maybe halfway through the shopping trip or while we were making burgers—but Nate’s relaxed into this completely different boy.

I feel just the tiniest slice of pride that I might have had some small part in helping him shed that heavy armor he carries around.

I just hope it lasts.

Mac comes back a moment later, the plate of fries in his hand along with something slung over his other arm.

A blanket, I realize, as he opens it up.

“Stand up,” he instructs me.

When I do, he wraps it around my shoulders, tucking it into itself so it won’t fall down.

His knuckles brush against my neck, and I shudder at the ghost of a touch.

Shit, it’s happening again.

“If this isn’t warm enough, I’ll make a fire.” His voice is low. Only for me.

He’s mistaken my shiver for a chill.

But I can’t help smiling enthusiastically. “Yes, please. Can I help?”

He meets my eyes, and there’s the tiniest twinkle of amusement there. “I already chopped the wood.”

I joked during dinner that I swore Mac was an undercover lumberjack; it became a bit of an ongoing gag that involved lots of wood and axe puns between Cal and me, with Mac’s lip curling like he was annoyed. But that twinkle was still there. He enjoyed it.

“Damn,” I say softly. “I would have liked to see that.”

Only after I sense the silence at the table do I realize we might almost sound like we’re flirting. Or that I’m trying to flirt with Mac.

I clear my throat. “Anyone else want a fire?”

“Actually, I’m cooked from my trip today,” Cal says. “Think I’m going to turn in. But let me help with these.” He stands up and starts piling dishes up his arm.

“How about you, Nate?” I ask.

“I’m going to go playFirestorm,” Nate says. He looks at me intently.

“I haven’t forgotten,” I say, grinning. “I texted Avery this afternoon. It should be here tomorrow.”

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