Page 18 of Blindsided
I’m doing my best to stop thinking about our dressing room encounter when his voice nearly sends me through the ceiling.
“Hey, Cookie, it’s field trip time.”
“Saints preserve us!” I exclaim, lifting my hands from my sewing machine and placing them over my terrified ears. “I didn’t even hear you come up the stairs!”
“You must have been too focused on your work,” Mac says, glancing down at the mess I have in front of me. “Come on, it’s time for a break.”
I push back from my desk and stand up. “Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” he replies and then glances down at my legs. “Trousers again? Did my lesson mean nothing to you?”
“It did. I’m…working,” I reply stiffly. “That dress you bought for me isn’t exactly work attire. In fact, I still don’t know why you bought that dress for me, anyway.”
“Every lass should have a sexy date-night dress,” he says with a cheery lift of his brows as we make our way down the stairs.
“Where are you two off to?” Allie asks as she strides into the shop from whatever marketing meeting she was attending.
“I wish I knew,” I reply as Mac grabs my hand and pulls me out the door, barely glancing at Allie.
When we step outside, I yank my hand out of his and stop in my tracks. “Seriously, Mac, where are we going?”
“To get coffee, of course.” He shoots me a lopsided smile.
I shake my head. “No, Mac.”
“Come on, Cookie,” he says, grabbing my hand again to drag me along.
“No, no, no,” I beg and pull backwards against his pressure, but it’s no use. He’s way stronger than me.
Mac laughs at my resistance. “I need to meet this coffee snob and make sure he’s good enough for you.”
“No, you don’t,” I plead, and my ears begin to boil. “You really don’t. I’m not ready for this. We’ve only had one lesson!”
“You’re ready,” his voice is firm. “I’m going to help you, so no worries.”
“Yes, worries. Lots and lots of worries!”
Mac practically shoves me through the coffee shop door, and I stumble to a halt before running into a patron who’s holding a piping hot cup of coffee. I turn on my heels and glare at Mac accusingly. He rubs the back of his neck and offers me a rueful smile. I quickly glance over my shoulder and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see Javier.
“He’s not here, so we can go now,” I state and make my way towards the exit.
Suddenly, a Spanish voice booms, “Freya!”
I freeze in my tracks, my eyes wide on Mac as my ears burst into flames. Mac has the cheek to look amused, and it takes all of my strength not to punch him right in that smug face of his.
I plaster a smile on my face and turn to face Javier. “Hiyaaa,” I manage to croak out without screwing up the pronunciation too bad.
“Happy Monday. You look lovely today,” Javier says and gestures to my yellow top.
“Greatest, thanks,” I reply and then cringe while balling my hands up into fists.
I feel Mac’s warm hand on my back as he slowly pushes me towards the counter. His breath is hot on my ear as he whispers, “You’re smart, funny, and fucking bonnie. Imagine he’s a Canadian cowboy fromHeartlandand go get him.”
A small laugh bubbles up my throat at that last part.
When I finally reach the coffee counter, Javier eyes Mac curiously. “Who is your friend here, my Freya?”
Did he just say, ‘my Freya’?
