Page 10 of Calling the Shots

Which, to be fair, I kinda do.

But those have nothing to do with the Mack crush I’ve got going on right now.

Huffing out a breath, I stare at Mack’s front door for a few more seconds. Nothing happens. The blinds don’t open, he doesn’t walk out wearing only his boxers.

A girl can dream, right?

May as well go say hi to my mom, since I’m here and all. Hopping out of the car, I traipse up the driveway as slowly as I can.

Still nothing.

Climbing the stairs, I rap on the door twice before letting myself in.

“Hey, Mom!” I take a quick left, bypassing the salon portion of the house where I work with my mother. She’s an OG girl boss and together we’re Thunder Creek’s dynamic duo. Plumb Perfect istheplace to get your hair done in this town and the surrounding counties. The only reason the dryers are off and the main salon is dark right now is because Sundays are the day of rest, the only day we’re closed all week.

I love what I do, giving my clients new styles. Helping women look and feel their best. Bonus points for being up-to-date on all the latest gossip and the short commute. And don’t tell my mom, but I really do enjoy working side-by-side with her.

Coming round the corner and popping my head into the bright kitchen, I about have a heart attack. My mom’s not alone.

A man with broad shoulders and sandy, wavy hair’s sitting at the small dining table. Even with his back to me, I recognize that thick neck, those corded forearms.

He swivels to face me, a smirk tipping up the corner of his full lips. Lips I know a lot better after last night.

“Morning, Gracelyn.”

Face flaming, heat rushes through me as I choke out an acceptable greeting.

“Morning, Mack.”

CHAPTER4

MACK

Am I surprised to see Gracelyn here this morning?

A little.

Did a small part of me hope she’d show up?

Maybe.

Okay, more than a small part of me.

Truth be told, I slept like shit last night. My mind kept circling back to Gracelyn and that kiss at the bar. How good she felt nestled in between my thighs, my palm cupping her ass. The way her lips felt against mine, soft and smooth and wanting. The memory of her curves pressing against me when we stood outside her door. The woman haunted me all night long and I woke up with a painful, achy hard-on.

I planned on going about my usual Sunday business. Getting chores done, doing yard work, catching some football on TV. But then I made coffee and ran out of creamer. Seemed like as good excuse as any to pop over to Mrs. Reynolds’s house.

Could I have survived without creamer for one morning? Gone to the grocery store to buy more? Hit up the local coffee shop? Yes to all of the above.

But the likelihood of seeing Gracelyn again would have been much slimmer in those scenarios. Popping next door to her mom’s house made bumping into her much more likely.

And this is the best-case scenario. Especially the way her entire body turns cherry red the second she spots me at the kitchen table with her mother.

Priceless.

Why am I such a dick?

I don’t know. Genetic, probably.

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