Page 30 of Festive Faking
My mouth filled with saliva just thinking about my favorite pulled pork sandwich from the restaurant on Main Street. “Yes, please.”
We made it two steps outside the building before I came to an abrupt halt.
Leaning against my brother’s truck, looking more handsome than ever, was Mac.
A corner of his lips quirked up at my surprise. Lifting his Aviators, he tossed me a wink before lowering them again.
Mama bumped shoulders with me. “Looks like you found yourself a new lunch partner. See you at home, honey.”
Before I could protest, she was gone, and my only option of getting home today was the man standing twenty feet away, staring at my stunned form with amusement.
You can’t hide forever.
Releasing a slow breath, I put on my big-girl panties and stepped closer to the man who could make my head swim and my heart flutter with a single kiss.
He uncrossed his legs and stood up straight when I reached him. “Afternoon,” he drawled with a fake country accent.
That was enough to lighten the mood, and I laughed at how ridiculous he sounded. “Please tell me you aren’t talking like that around town.”
“What? No good?” The cheeky grin on his face told me he knew exactly how terrible the imitation was.
“Truly awful.”
“Eh.” He shrugged, his smile never slipping. “Gave it a shot.”
I eyed the vehicle behind him. “My brother know you took his truck?”
The playful act dropped in an instant. He cringed, shifted on his feet, and peeked over his shoulder before turning back to me. “Uh, I was kinda hoping those ‘sheriff godfather’ privileges were transferrable.”
“Seriously, Mac? Youstoleit?” My voice rose in pitch with each word.
He scoffed. “Of course I didn’t steal it, Aspen.”
Heat rose to my cheeks at having judged him so quickly. In my defense, he was playing it off like he had, in fact, boosted Tripp’s car. What was I supposed to believe?
He removed his sunglasses, his gaze searching mine. “Do you really think that little of me?”
Reminded of his selfless act for the less fortunate in the town I called home, I hung my head in shame.
“I’m sorry.” It was no excuse for jumping to conclusions, but I explained, “I didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
His hum had me peeking up, and even though I saw the truth in his eyes, he didn’t utter a word about my sneaking out. I thanked the Lord above for that small mercy because I still hadn’t sorted out how I felt about anything that had transpired this week. Until I did, I wouldn’t be ready to talk about it with the person who created the swirling confusion deep inside me.
“What are you doing here?” I desperately needed a change of subject.
“Oh, you know . . .” Mac’s tone was back to carefree and light. “Took a little stroll down Main Street. Made about fifty new best friends.”
Now,thatsounded like the Mac I knew. Even if it sometimes rubbed me the wrong way, I could admit he had an outgoing personality.
“I’ll bet you did.”
He ticked off names with his fingers. “You’ve got Rita at the coffee shop, Denny down at the bookstore, and Harriet over at the drugstore. I popped into The Range, and my knees almost buckled at the scent of barbequed meat, but Naomi told me they wouldn’t be open for another half an hour and to come back later with my girl.” Rubbing a hand over his midsection, he let out a pornographic moan. “Haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since. Wanna go?”
If not for the fact that there were only a handful of eateries around town, I might’ve deemed it a sign that Mac asked me to have lunch with him at my favorite restaurant. That pulled pork was calling my name, and I wasn’t sure how long it would be before I’d get another chance to enjoy it.
So, even though I was apprehensive about spending more time alone with Mac, I rounded the hood of Tripp’s truck. “Sure. Sounds good.”
Mac obscenely smacked his lips, sucking his fingers deep into his mouth and licking off every last trace of leftover barbeque sauce.
