Page 42 of Calling the Shots

My nerves hum louder than summertime cicadas as I sashay out of Mustang’s. I’m trying to play it cool, but inside I’m a mess.

What am I doing?

Mack didn’t text me, he didn’t call. Now I’m going to go home with him and do the same thing all over again.

I’m pretty sure that’s the definition of insanity.

My head’s screaming no, but my pussy’s throbbing yes. And the pulsating yes gets louder and more insistent when I hit the parking lot. Mack’s leaning against his truck, acting all cool and casual, looking sexy as hell in his coach’s uniform and backward baseball cap.

God, I’m a sucker for a backward baseball cap. His sandy hair curls over his ears, muscular arms crossed over his chest. The man’s veins pop out when he’s standing still—I can’t imagine how hot he is when he’s working out.

And he’s standing here, waiting.

For me.

“Hey.” My voice comes out breathy in the relative quiet.

“Hey.” He tips his chin at me as I approach the truck, his pupils dark and wide.

I shouldn’t be doing this again.

But I know myself and there’s not a chance I’m turning back now. Not with this giant hunk of a man ready and willing to do dirty, nasty things to me.

“So—what is this?” I wave my hands in the shrinking space between us, moving closer to him. Close enough to smell his spicy cologne mixing with hoppy beer, see the light sprinkle of stubble peppering his jaw.

He swallows hard, locking eyes with me. “I know you gave me the brush off. But seeing you with that guy in there—” He glances away for a second, takes a shuddery breath before meeting my gaze again. “It didn’t feel good, Firecracker.”

My heart thunders at his words, breath hitching in my throat.

God, I want this man.

But I can’t go there again, blindly trust him. I need more from him before I put my heart on the line.

I shrug. “Sorry. But you didn’t even text me back. It’s pretty obvious what we had was a fling. Nothing serious.”

I huff out a breath, my hair feathering up, then down on my forehead as I try to work all this out in my mind. If Sloane were here, she’d tell me what to do.

But she’s not.

She’s down in Florida with Cam and I’m here on my own. Well, just me and Mack.

Digging deep, I find the courage to tell Mack exactly how I feel. “I don’t want to be your fuck buddy, someone you only call when you’re horny.”

“Is that what you think you are, Gracelyn?” Mack furrows his brow, his green eyes serious.

To my horror, hot tears spring to my eyes and I will them to stay put with everything I’ve got.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Oh, baby, no.” He shakes his head, his gaze darkening. He trails his thumb over my cheek, then drops his mouth to mine. Lips moving fervently, he kisses away all my doubts, one by one. His hand wraps around the nape of my neck, the rough callouses of his fingers tracing light circles on my skin.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, hoping for, longing for.

Him.

“You’re so much more than that,” he murmurs. “Let’s give this a shot, for real.”

I pull away slightly, staring up at him. “You want to date? Me? Out in the open?”

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