Page 77 of The Games We Play
He chuckled, and I felt the sound more than heard it—the low rumble vibrating through his chest and into me. It made me smile.
When we reached my apartment building, I reluctantly stepped away from his warmth. The night air hit me immediately, cool and sharp in comparison. But the chill was short-lived when I saw the look in his eyes—that playful, daring glint that made my pulse skip and my cheeks flare up.
He took a small step forward, closing the space between us, and I knew it. He was going to kiss me.
My heart squeezed, emotions tangling inside me. I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that. Not yet.
Mac must’ve sensed it—something in my eyes or the way I shifted—and he stopped. Leaning back just enough, he gave me space without making it awkward. I felt both disappointment and relief rush through me at once.
“Good night, Penelope,” he said, his voice low, warm. His hands tucked back into the front pockets of his jeans like he needed to keep them there to stop himself from reaching for me again.
“Good night,” I whispered.
He nodded toward the door. “Go on. I’m not leaving until I see you safely inside.”
Rolling my eyes, I tried to hide the smile pulling at my lips. “Yes, Daddy,” I quipped, shooting him a teasing glance as I turned on my heel.
Behind me, I swore I heard a low groan, but I didn’t stop to gloat. The front door clicked open, and I stepped into the quiet vestibule. The lights ofPetal Pusher were dark, the streetlamps casting a soft golden glow over everything inside.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I turned and looked through the glass. Mac was still there, hands in his pockets, watching.
I lifted my hand in a wave, and he returned it with a small smile.
Then, finally, we turned and went our separate ways.
For tonight.
23
MAC
Last night with Penny hadn’t left my mind. I walked her home, almost kissed her, and then spent the rest of the night tossing and turning like a man caught between two timelines—the past we shared and the future we might still have.
There’d been something in the air between us, a flicker of what we used to be. That effortless rhythm. The unspoken pull. It gave me hope—dangerous, addictive hope.
But I knew I wasn’t out of the doghouse.
There were still things I needed to do, things I wanted to prove. I had plans tucked up my sleeve, and patience tucked somewhere deeper.
When she agreed to stay after closing, I nearly cracked. Every part of me wanted to show her how happy that made me. But I held it in, kept my cool, and played it safe. Still, something had shifted. I felt it in the way she moved around me, in the way her eyes lingered a little longer than before. The spark was back.
God, I wanted to kiss her. So badly.
But I hadn’t earned that right, not yet.
A sudden knock on my apartment door jolted me out of my thoughts. I blinked, glanced at the book I’d been trying toread while finishing my lunch. It sat on the table, still open, pages fluttering from the breeze drifting in through the cracked window.
Brushing the crumbs from my fingers against my jeans, I crossed to the door. No one ever really showed up unannounced, especially not in the middle of the day. Cautiously, I turned the knob and cracked it open.
Boone stood in the narrow hallway, arms crossed, no cowboy hat in sight—just his usual white tee and worn jeans.
“Oh, hey, man.” I opened the door wider, stepping aside. “What’re you doing here?”
Boone didn’t usually make daytime appearances. He spent most of his days out on the ranch, and when he did stop by, it was late during the bar scene.
He gave me a shrug and stepped in. “Thought I’d check in.” A sly smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Plus, now that I’m the boss, I can do what I want.”
I snorted as I shut the door behind him. “Fair enough.”
