Page 83 of The Games We Play
The microwave dinged, pulling me from the moment. I walked over, retrieved my food, and grabbed my phone before settling into my usual spot at the table. I propped Mac up against the napkin holder, and with an eager sigh, twirled a forkful of pasta and took a bite.
A satisfied groan escaped me. “This is so good,” I mumbled through a mouthful, covering my mouth with my hand. “Theynevermess this up.”
Mac chuckled, watching me like it was the best show in town. “Glad I get to see you enjoy it.”
I grinned and held a loaded fork toward the screen. “Want a bite?”
“You tease,” he muttered, lips twitching with amusement.
I wiggled the fork like bait. “You know you want it.”
Before he could respond, his attention flicked away from the screen. I could hear new voices and music growing louder in the background.
“Josie!” Mac called out, his voice carrying above the hum of chatter. “Can you take care of Mr. Skully, please?”
He grabbed the phone again and brought it close, lowering his voice to talk to his other bartender. “I’m on the phone. I’ll be out in a bit.”
I couldn’t hear her reply, but I could tell the bar was picking up. The familiar buzz of people, clinking glasses, and soft country music filled the space between us.
“You can go if you need to,” I said, swirling the pasta around my plate. “I just wanted to say thank you.”
“No way.” His voice was firm. “I’ve got your attention. I don’t wanna lose it.”
“My attention means more than the tips you’re missing out on?” I teased. “You must really be sorry.”
Mac moved down a dim hallway, the grainy lighting blurring out his face. He pushed open a door and stepped outside, taking a seat on the back steps. Crickets chirped in the background, the lit cigarette dangled from his lip.
“Tips don’t mean shit if I can’t spend them on you.”
I swallowed hard, trying to play it cool, but my heart stuttered. That simple confession short-circuited something inside me.
I didn’t know how he did it. He could tear down every defense I had with one quiet truth. The standard I was trying to set was being challenged, pushed until I gave in.
Mac was doing it on purpose, but whether he knew it or not, his sweet confessions and acts of service were taking my walls down faster than I’d imagined.
It wasn’t just about sex. We hadn’t even been together like that in almost two months. Still, he had this undeniable effecton me like he’d unlocked something buried—something soft and vulnerable and aching to be seen.
Mac didn’t just get under my skin; he was seared into my mind.
“Any plans for the night?” Mac asked, his voice easy, casual.
I shook my head, twirling my fork as I took another bite. “Nah. Might do some crocheting later.”
He leaned back slightly, lifting the cigarette to his lips before exhaling a soft cloud of smoke into the night air. “What about this weekend?”
I swallowed and reached for my water bottle. “Helping Sandy tomorrow. Mother’s Day prep, you know how it is. She came up here earlier, dropping not-so-subtle hints that she’s gonna need extra hands besides me, so… I’ll be tied up all day.”
Mac nodded, thoughtful. “Who’re you thinking to ask?”
The question sat in the space between us for a beat. Was he hoping I’d say him?
“Logan’s coming over to help with deliveries,” I said, trying to read his expression, “and I was thinking Ellie might be my second.”
Ellie’s parents were away for the weekend, so I was hoping she’d be free. Boone was off with Aspen, which ruled both of them out.
And honestly? I liked Ellie. We didn’t hang out alone often, but when we did, it was always a good time. She was spunky, a little sassy, and had the biggest heart. The kind of girl who’d give the shirt off her back and make you laugh while doing it. Plus, she had a thing for flowers—she knew her way around a bouquet better than most.
“Sounds like the dream team,” Mac said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
