Page 77 of Calling the Shots

“All good.”

Mack zips up my suitcase and carries the luggage out to his truck while I lock up.

Five minutes later, we’re on the road. He fiddles with the radio, settling on the country station. I sit back and zone out, trying not to worry about meeting Mack’s family. The packing incident didn’t really help calm my anxiety any. And judging by his tense jaw and the tight grip Mack has on the wheel, I don’t think he’s any more relaxed than me.

This could be a very long weekend.

To break the uncomfortable silence, I dig for clues about his family.

“Give me the highlights on your family.”

“What do you mean?”

“The details. What’s your mom like? I know she’s proper, but what does she do? What are her hobbies? Basically, I want the Cliff Notes.”

Mack stares straight ahead at the road, a deep furrow etched in his brow. Thrums his fingers on the steering wheel. After a long pause, he finally answers.

“You pegged my mother. Formal, uptight, prim and proper. She doesn’t reallydoanything. She entertains. Plays tennis and golf with the ladies. Goes up to the club.”

I bite my lip, nodding.Super. We literally have nothing in common. I live in a tiny-ass house and the only entertaining I do involves opening a bottle of wine. All the better if it’s a screw top. I can’t play tennis, never tried golf. And Mustang’s is the closest thing to a social club we have in town. Kinda figuring Mack’s parents belong to a different sort of thing.

“When you sayclub,what are we referring to here?”

“The country club. Or the yacht club. We belong to both.”

I suck in a breath.

Shit.

Mack has a yacht?What in the actual hell?

“You have a yacht?”

“Not me. My family. And it’s not a yacht. It’s a boat. Technically, the place should be called the boat club, but that’s not fancy enough, I guess.”

Still.

I have a car and it’s the only motorized vehicle I own. I don’t even have a scooter.

“Okay.” I gnaw at my lip. “What about your dad?”

“He’s retired, but he used to practice law. After I quit football, he tried to talk me into joining his firm, but I politely and respectfully declined.”

“He wanted you to go to law school?”

“Yeah. And I did, for two years. I dropped out during my third year and I don’t think he’s ever quite forgiven me.”

Mack shifts in his seat, a far-away look in his eye. It’s the saddest I’ve ever seen him and my chest aches. I quickly move away from this painful subject.

“What about hobbies?”

“He shoots, goes hunting with the guys every fall. Boats, obviously. Golf, tennis, like my mother. The usual stuff.”

Um, no. None of this stuff is usual to me, but I’m not about to admit that. We’re an hour away from a long holiday weekend with the family. Now’s not the time for true confessions. Besides, I’m pretty certain Mack knows I don’t do any of those things.

“And your sister?”

“Emma Kate. Short for Katherine. She still lives at home. Not in my parents’ house, but in one of the guest houses.”

---