Page 9 of Calling the Shots

“What, you have something against Daddies now?”

“No. It’s just, I don’t know—weird. He’s Mack.”

“Well, Mack is hot. And he’s not nearly old enough to be my daddy.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Hey, not all of us luck out and land our high school crush,” I tease, and Sloane laughs.

“I don’t think you had a high school crush, Gracelyn.”

“You’re right. I had about fifteen of them. Hard to narrow it down to only one loser.”

Cam’s deep voice rumbles in the background and I know I should let my friend go and get back to whatever she swears she wasn’t doing when I called.

“I’ll let you go. I miss you.” A twinge of sadness pulls at my chest. “Love you, bestie.”

“Love you, too. I’ll be back in town soon. For Hoco.”

“Good. I’m going to need moral support. Jamie’s coaching the dance team.”

“What? Although that tracks. She’s perfect for the job.”

“I know, she has the kind of hair you can really whip around. Okay, night.”

“Night.”

The line clicks and I toss my cell onto the sofa, staring up at the ceiling.

Mack.

I wasn’t lying when I said I never thought about him in that way.

Until now.

I should have gone for it and invited him in. But I felt like I already pushed my luck pretty far this evening. The kiss was probably a one-time thing and I shouldn’t read too much into it. Sure, he kissed me back with the exact right amount of pressure. And sure, his chest felt solid up against mine, my heart pounding as he stared down at me. And I’d be lying if I said his hand on my ass didn’t send fire licking through me, wetness flooding my thong.

But Sloane’s right. He’s probably not right for me. And when things spiral downward—which, let’s face it, they always do—I’ll have to see him all the time. We’ll run into each other constantly and that will be terrible.

Best to shut this down before anything really happens between us.

Even if that lip lock was the best kiss of my whole entire life.

I should one-thousand percent pretend it never happened and move on with my boring, safe, single life.

* * *

Mack stars in my dreams all night long. I can’t stop thinking about the man and his beyond-kissable lips, the rough pads of his fingers as he brushed them across my cheek.

There’s only one thing to do about this.

Morning comes around and I roll up to my mom’s house, hoping for a Mack sighting. Throwing my car into park, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and crane my neck, searching for signs of life next door to my mom’s bungalow.

Dammit.Nothing.

He’s probably working out or something, sculpting those strong pec muscles for the next lucky lady.

Stop it, Gracelyn. Remember—Mack’s a bad idea. He screams ‘I’ve got Daddy issues.’

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