Page 43 of Street of Dreams
He slipped into his boots and pulled on his MC jacket, ready to surprise Mac by strolling into Mackenzie’s Pub during his shift. Jake had perfected the intentional accidental coincidence of running into Mac over the years, so it wouldn’t arouse suspicion. The only difference was that now he didn’t hassle Mac as much, although he still loved to provoke him.
Jake pulled his Harley out of the garage and almost rode straight into his brothers. Henry and Danny jumped in front of him, waving their arms to get his attention.
“Where ya goin’?” Henry asked. “To see your girlfriend?”
Jake hated that his brothers thought the person he was spending time with was a girl, but he couldn’t admit the truth. “Nah. I’m going to grab a beer. Maybe shoot a game of pool.”
“Why didn’t you ask us to come with you?” Danny asked, sounding a little hurt.
Great. Just what Jake needed, more guilt for ditching his brothers in order to spend time with Mac. “I’m asking you now. Take my truck and meet me at Mackenzie’s.”
When he got to the pub, Mac was wiping down the bar. Jake stayed by the door, quietly observing the way the muscles in Mac’s deltoids flexed and unflexed as his arms moved the dishtowel across the polished wood surface. Mac’s hair was pulled back in a ponytail instead of long and loose the way Jake liked it. He rarely wore it like that. Only on the occasion when he was working behind the bar did Mac tie his hair up. Jake assumed that Mac had worked up a sweat, and his hair had been bothering him. Images flirted in Jake’s head and did things to his body that shouldn’t happen in public.
With his helmet on his hip, Jake marched up to the bar and took the stool directly in front of where Mac was cleaning. “PBR,” he ordered, the quirky smile still on his lips.
Mac looked up, and a spark bounced between them. He tossed the dishtowel over his shoulder and greeted Jake with a smile. “Coming right up.” He took a mug from under the bar, filled it from the tap and placed it in front of Jake. “On the house.”
“No fucking way.” Jake dropped a few bucks on the bar, but Mac shook his head.
“I said, it’s on the house,” Mac repeated.
They ended up pushing the cash back and forth, until Mac’s father marched over and snatched the money off the bar. “I don’t know what ye’re doin’ to me boy, but I don’t like it. Ye pay just like everyone else. Ye Kings are always thinkin’ ye can get special treatment. Not in me pub!”
Mac looked mortified. “Da, hewaspaying. I was handing him back his money.”
“And why would ye be doin’ that?”
“Because.” Mac’s irises bounced around as he thought of an answer. “I owe him money for some bolts he picked up. For the Chevy. He wouldn’t take the money so I’m paying him back with a beer. I was going to put the money in the register.”
“Ye pay him from ye own pocket.” Oliver Mackenzie leaned his elbow on the bar and scowled at Jake. “Ye better not be takin’ advantage of me boy with that car. He’s a good lad. And ye nothin’ but trouble.”
Jake leaned back on the barstool to escape the man’s tirade. It was obvious where Mac got his ballsy attitude from because Oliver Mackenzie took no shit. And Jake hadn’t even said one word to the man. “I got no bad intentions Mr. M. Don’t confuse me with my old man. I’m making an honest buck helping Mac restore his car.”
Oliver scowled and guffawed. “No King ever made an honest livin’. And the word ‘honest’ coming from the mouth of a King means nothin’.”
Jake was insulted and stared at Oliver with his mouth hanging open, but it was Mac who came to his defense.
“Da! That’s rude! Jake’s helping me. He’s doing me a favor. And I appreciate it. I couldn’t restore the Chevy without him. I’m grateful.”
Oliver softened and rubbed his son’s shoulder. “Ye got a good heart, Reid. Ye always see the good in people. Ye get that from ye mum. Don’t be fooled by this lad.” And then he walked away, with Jake’s cash, which he stuffed into the register.
“Holy shit,” Jake said, with his eyes trailing after Oliver Mackenzie. “And I thought my old man was tough.”
Mac was ashen, staring at Jake with wide eyes and his mouth gaping open. “I am sooooo sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Jake was used to being treated with distrust and understood why most people didn’t like him. It wasn’t their fault. It was his. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Yes. It is. My father shouldn’t have said those things to you. They’re not true. I’m sorry.”
Jake waved his hand. “Forget about it.”
Mac shook his head, but let it go with a sigh. “What are you doing here?” he asked, a little more cheerfully. “Did you come in to visit me?”
Jake took a long sip of his beer. “Nah. I just like tap beer. And getting yelled at.”
“Stop it. I feel so bad.”
“Relax. I’m just kidding around.”
