CHAPTER 2

MAC

“This job… Ugh. Sucks donkey balls, big time.”

Mackenzie Connors rolled his eyes at his best friend, Drew Williamson. “Mom offered you a job at the restaurant.”

“I know, but it doesn’t feel right,” Drew whined, as he grabbed Mac’s arm in a bearhug, pouting and blinking his big beautiful eyes.

Mac wanted to wrap Drew up in cotton wool, but he knew Drew wouldn’t appreciate it. Instead, he mockingly took pity on his best friend as he gasped, “What’s that supposed to mean? My mom loves you. You know I’d love to have you working with me instead at Just a Dollar More. You’re nothing but a glorified stock boy and cashier there.”

“I know, but if I worked with you, I wouldn’t get any studying done. It’s so slow there at night, I can usually get a huge chunk of my reading and homework done sitting on my ass behind the register.”

Huffing, Mac lightly backhanded Drew, hitting the wall of muscle otherwise known as a chest. Damn, his bestie was a beast. How Drew had time to go to classes, study, work, and hit the gym was a true mystery to Mac. All that hard work paid off, though. Drew was fucking ripped, and Mac got to enjoy the eye candy disguising itself as his best friend. He wrapped his arm around Drew’s waist and gave him a fast hug. “True. You wouldn’t get a second of downtime at the restaurant, so maybe stop complaining.”

Reaching The Other Diner, Mac held open the door for Drew to enter. The blast of cold air was a welcome relief from the stifling 100-degree-plus temps they’d been running for most of the summer. “Whew. It's hotter than the devil's balls out here today.”

They waved to Mac’s sister, Katy, as she rang up a patron, not bothering to stop on their way to the family’s reserved booth.

“Mac! Wait.”

Mac kept walking, flashing her a peace sign over his shoulder as he followed Drew to their table. The restaurant seemed crowded, and he wondered if he’d missed some major draw to the city on social media. Nothing sprung to mind except the upcoming preseason football games. Not that he cared unless the UTA Longhorns were playing—his alma mater—but that wasn’t for a few weeks yet.

Drew spun around in the aisle as they neared their table. “Wow, man, look at this place. What’s the occasion?”

“Hell if I know.”

Drew slid onto the bench seat on the far side of the table. Mac did the same on his side, only to bang into the occupant already there.

He grabbed the guy’s arm. “Oh, damn. I’m sorry. Wasn’t expecting anyone to be here.” He looked up into the darkest brown eyes he’d ever seen. Mac studied the slightly rounded face, cheeks lightly scruffed, and the close-cropped hair before he registered the guns he held. Holy shit, this guy was ripped! Mac melted into a puddle of goo right there.

Drew chuckled, and Mac cut his gaze to his best friend. “Captive audience?”

Mac rolled his eyes before once more taking in the Adonis, who looked down at where Mac touched him. “Oh. Sorry.” He slowly dragged his hands away, letting the hair on the guy’s arms tickle his palms.

“It’s alright.”

Mac cocked his head. “You’re not from around here. I’m hearing a touch of New York or Philadelphia.”

“Nope, but close. I’m from Central Jersey, more New York than Philly, probably. We’re too much of a melting pot to have our own accent. Name’s Lee.” Lee stuck out his hand for Mac to shake and then offered the same to Drew.

“I’m Mac. That’s my best friend, Drew. With a name like Lee, ya’ll fit in here in Austin.”

“Yeah, the locals are cool. Everyone’s happy to have an easy name to pronounce, unlike a couple of my teammates.”

Mac’s eyes widened. “You a Longhorn?”

“Longhorn?” Lee shook his head. “No, man. I was a Scarlet Knight, but now I play for the Troopers.”

“Football,” Drew mumbled and grimaced.

“Not a fan?”

Drew shrugged. “I prefer baseball, but everybody’s a Longhorn fan. We bleed orange.”

Lee laughed, the sound low and husky, and it hit Mac in all the right places. “I heard that about you all.”

“Longhorns, Longhorns, Longhorns,” Mac stage whispered, following his chant with a near silent cheer as he made jazz hands.