Page 23 of Calling the Shots

“You can get that here.” I point out the obvious. “This bed is great. Very comfy. I upgraded my mattress last year and sleep like a baby now.”

“Nah. Probably not a great idea.”

I lift my eyes to his, glancing up at him through lowered lashes. “I thought we established we’re both fans of bad ideas?”

He chuckles, a low, throaty laugh vibrating his chest beneath my cheek.

“You got me there, Firecracker.”

Still, he unwinds his body from mine and slides away, leaving the warm nest of the bed. Moving quickly, he gathers up his discarded clothes. Boxers, jeans, T-shirt. All I can do is stare is at his muscular bare ass in the air, shocked into silence. He throws on his pants and a familiar flash of panic shoots through me.

This always happens.

I’m a love-‘em-and-leave-‘em type of girl. Not the spend-all-night-together girl I always longed to be. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually spent the night—the whole night—with a guy.

Zero.

Technically, I guess that’s no hands. No one ever stays the night with good time gal Gracelyn.

I don’t know why I thought Mack would be different. Naivete, I guess. Or perhaps misguided optimism. Either way, I feel like an idiot right now.

For ever believing Mack might not be like all the rest of the male population. That he might actually be different.

My cheeks burn and tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I blink rapidly, willing the liquid to dissipate and not spill over, giving me away.

“Hey—you good?” His deep voice jolts me out of my swirling obsessive thoughts and back to shitty reality.

I force a tight smile, swallowing hard over the lump of disappointment in my throat. The last thing I want—or need—is Mack to feel sorry for me.

“Yeah, sure. I’m great.” I attempt to infuse cheerfulness into my voice and it seems to work because he drops the subject.

Pulling his shirt on, Mack runs a hand through his messy hair then makes his way back to the bed. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, kissing me softly.

“Thanks for tonight. It was fun.”

Fun.

Super. I hold my eyeroll in check and chalk this evening up to another mistake. You’d think I would’ve learned my lesson by now, but apparently not.

Mack’s mouth moves against mine and, despite my regret in how things are ending, I have to admit it’s still a fan-fucking-tastic kiss. Just the right amount of heat and pressure.

Eventually, he breaks away. Tucking a stray curl behind my ear, he stares down at me.

“Make sure you lock the door behind me.”

“Okay, Dad,” I tease, pursing my lips together.

He grips my chin with his thumb and forefinger, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Hey, I’m not kidding.”

“Fine. But this is Thunder Creek and I’ve lived alone for years. I’ll be okay.”

“I’ll sleep better knowing you locked the door.”

“Geez, if it’s that big of a deal…” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed, ready to follow behind him.

“It is, baby. I need to know you’re all tucked in, safe and sound.”

If he really cared, he’d stay the night. But I don’t mention that little tidbit.

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