I’m Yours_Sweetbriar Cove_Book Four Page 4

  Busted.

  She should have played it cool, laughingly come clean like sure, she dressed up in catsuits and made out with guys she hadn’t seen in years all the time. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel that jittery lurch in her stomach at the thought of him, or be making plans to become a hermit and avoid all potential contact with him for the next year.

  But there was no hiding, not in Sweetbriar Cove. Which meant sooner or later, she was going to come face to face with Jake again, and when that happened, she would need a better response than just blushing bright red, turning, and running away.

  Maybe she could move to Guam?

  By six, Mackenzie hadn’t come up with any better solutions, so she headed over to Poppy’s beach house, with a bottle of wine and a family-sized bag of Doritos twice as big as her head.

  “Yes! Chips! I’m PMSing like crazy.” Poppy greeted her at the door and practically snatched them from her hands. “I’m so late, I’m ready to kill anyone who stands between me and calories.”

  Mackenzie gasped. “Late, as in . . .”

  “No. Shush,” Poppy said firmly, but there was laughter from the next room.

  “She’s in denial,” Summer grinned, emerging with a glass of wine. She was barefoot in jeans, with a pink stain on her sweatshirt that looked suspiciously like frosting. “You can set your clock by her cycle.”

  Mackenzie blinked. So much for her own drama. “This is . . . amazing! Wow, congratulations.”

  “I said shhhh!” Poppy protested again. “I don’t want to get my hopes up. I’m only a week late, and I’ve been working around the clock on my new novel. I haven’t even said anything to Cooper yet. It’s stress. ”

  “It’s not,” Summer said in a sing-song voice. Poppy glared. Summer laughed. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We’ll wait another few weeks before celebrating, OK?”

  “I didn’t even know you guys were trying,” Mackenzie said, following them into the kitchen.

  “We’re not!” Poppy said. “And I can tell he’s waiting until Christmas to propose. But, well . . .” She couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face.

  Mackenzie squealed and gave her a hug.

  “I said no celebrating!”

  “OK, OK.” Mackenzie pulled back. “I’m just really, really happy to be eating junk food tonight.”

  “That’s better.” Poppy smiled. “And you’re in luck. I just called in our pizza order, Summer brought that popcorn she sprinkles with crack—”

  “Cinnamon and spices,” Summer corrected, laughing.

  “And now we have wine.” Poppy paused, her smile slipping. “Dammit.”

  “One glass is fine,” Mackenzie reassured her, reaching for a handful of that crack-corn. “And you better have extra cheese on the pizza, if you’re eating for two.”

  “I like the way you think.” Poppy grinned. “But I’m serious, you guys. It’s way too early to even be talking about it. We wouldn’t, if Summer here didn’t know way too much about my body.”

  “OK, my lips are sealed.” Mackenzie mimed locking her mouth and throwing away the key. “So, we’ll talk about something else. What else is new?”

  “Besides the hot guy in town?” Summer lit up, and Mackenzie knew there could only be one man she was talking about.

  Sure enough, Summer continued, “I heard he’s some big-shot football star. Single,” she added, giving Mackenzie a meaningful look. “And you’re lucky I’m taken, because I saw him at the pub, and I swear, you could bounce quarters off that ass.”

  “Summer!” Poppy tossed popcorn at her.

  “What? It’s true.” Summer grinned. “Have you seen him yet, Mac? We should go hang out there until you get a glimpse.”

  Mackenzie cleared her throat. They’d all become fast friends over the past few months, and talked about everything under the sun, but when it came to romance? It had always been her offering matchmaking advice for everyone else, not the other way around. It felt weirdly exposing to mention anything about her own tangled heart, but she knew she needed their opinions.

  “Well, actually . . .” she began, but she was interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

  “We’re in here!” Summer called, and then Brooke joined them, still dressed in her crisp work outfit with her blonde hair pulled back in a braid.

  “Leftovers from a wedding today,” she said, holding up a couple of bags. “Who wants two dozen crab puffs?”

  “Me!” All three women put their hands up at once.

  Brooke laughed. “Done.” She started to unpack the goodies. “What are we talking about, anyway?”

  “The hot new guy in town,” Poppy answered.

  “The football player?” Brooke’s eyes widened. “I heard he screwed up his knee, and can’t play again. But that ass . . .”

  “See!” Summer laughed. “It’s undeniable.”

  Mackenzie thought back to the way the gray track pants had hugged Jake’s body . . . And the blue of his T-shirt, bringing out his eyes . . .

  “What’s going on with you?”

  She snapped out of her reverie to find Summer looking at her closely. “What? Nothing.” Mackenzie shoved a handful of popcorn in her mouth.

  “No, she’s right,” Poppy added slowly. “You just got this dreamy look in your eyes. I’ve never seen you look like that before.”

  “Sure I do. Every time I see a crab puff.” Mackenzie reached across the kitchen counter, but Brooke pulled the plate back, out of reach.

  “And you’re all flushed, too. You’re not getting any of these until you spill.”

  Mackenzie looked around. Three expectant faces stared back at her. She gulped. Suddenly, the casual girl talk felt more like an interrogation.

  “I . . . know him. Or, I used to. We were friends in high school,” she explained, feeling her cheeks blush bright red. “And I, um, maybe made out with him on Halloween and he had no idea it was me.”

  Brooke blinked first, then handed her the plate of crab puffs. “Talk.”

  * * *

  One hour, two glasses of wine, and three slices of pizza later, Mackenzie had explained the whole humiliating mess to them all—from her unrequited crush to the impulsive Halloween kiss, and right up to their awkward encounter that afternoon.

  “I love it!” Poppy said, gleeful. “A dark night, two strangers, who turn out to be old lovers—”

  “We were never lovers,” Mackenzie said firmly, but Poppy waved her away.

  “Details! It’s a great plot, like fate brought you back together again.”

  “Spoken like a true romance author,” Mackenzie laughed, rueful. “Unfortunately, life doesn’t exactly follow the outline.”

  “Yet,” Poppy said, looking determined. “Who knows what the next chapter holds?”

  “What I do know is that I can’t ever show my face in town again,” Mackenzie groaned, sinking lower into the couch cushions.

  She was met with a chorus of protest.

  “What? So you kissed the guy,” Summer argued. “That’s nothing. Franny practically caught Grayson and me doing it in the middle of his bookstore.”

  “Aunt June walked in on Cooper and me on the stairs,” Poppy added.

  “Let’s just say, the harbor master has gotten an eyeful of me and Riley on his boat by now,” Brooke agreed. They all clinked their glasses together in celebration of their very public scandals.

  “Yes, but this is different!” Mackenzie exclaimed. “Jake didn’t even know it was me. You should have seen the look on his face when he figured it out,” she added, wincing. “It was like he thought he’d been kissing Angelina Jolie, and got me instead.”

  “Don’t say that,” Poppy said firmly. “You’re amazing. And gorgeous, and sexy—”

  “And your ass is just as fine as his,” Summer agreed, laughing.

  Mackenzie managed a grin. “OK, we’ll pretend that part is true. But you don’t understand,” she added. “Jake always treated me like his kid sister. He never saw me as anything mor
e, no matter how hard I tried.”

  “But that was ten years ago,” Brooke spoke up. “A lot could have changed since then.”

  “Right,” Summer agreed. “He could be a different person now. For all we know, he’s turned into some arrogant man-whore—fine ass, or no fine ass,” she added, warning. “You know these sports guys, a taste of fame and then suddenly it’s all VIP clubs and bottle service.”

  “VIP what now?” Poppy joked. “The closest I’ve ever come is when Riley gives me extra fries.”

  “Ketchup is the only bottle service you’ll ever need!” Summer cracked.

  “Jake’s not like that,” Mackenzie said, when the laughter had died down. “I mean yes, he’s older now, and hotter, but the way we were talking . . . He’s still the same guy as before.” She couldn’t stop herself from letting out a wistful sigh, and the other women exchanged a knowing look.

  “So, just play it cool, and see what happens,” Poppy suggested, reaching over to steal another slice of pizza from the box. “I mean, this is Sweetbriar. You’re going to find plenty of reasons to run into him. As long as you don’t turn and flee in the other direction, you should be able to figure this out.”

  “She’s right,” Summer agreed. “You don’t need to overthink it. Like you said, it was one kiss, you’re both adults,” she added reassuringly. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal—unless you want it to be one.”

  “I guess . . .” Mackenzie felt her stomach do another slow flip just at the idea of seeing Jake again. She groaned. “Why am I even feeling like this? You know me, I don’t get like this about guys.”

  “Maybe the other guys haven’t been worth getting like this,” Brooke replied with a grin.

  Mackenzie stuck her tongue out at her.

  “Real mature.” Brooke laughed.

  “That’s me,” Mackenzie said ruefully. “Partying like it’s 2002 all over again.”

  She absently took another handful of popcorn. Maybe it was just the past talking: all her pent-up, unrequited teenage hormones back to haunt her all over again. That didn’t mean she had to regress into her younger self, feeling panicked and timid at the idea Jake could ever discover how she really felt.

  She was older and wiser, after all. And with a killer ass.

  Jake would be so lucky.

  Now, maybe if she repeated that to herself another three dozen times, she could start believing it. Some things may never change—but she had. And she couldn’t let herself forget it.

  * * *

  Nothing had changed.

  Jake strolled the town square, marveling at how it looked exactly the same. Sure, there was a new coffee shop and some quaint gift boutiques, but the feel of the place was just the same: antique streetlights lit the streets with a warm glow, and the windows were all decorated with fall colors and pumpkins, cozy and comforting. It was a long way from the neon lights he called home these days—South Beach bars spilling noise and music into the street past two a.m., the hustle of the main drag, and delicious Cuban food trucks on every corner.

  His stomach growled. He could use one of those about now. It had been late by the time he stopped torturing himself with old ESPN recordings, and realized there was nothing in the house to eat. He was used to having a housekeeping service keep his place stocked with food, but of course, Sweetbriar didn’t exactly come with round-the-clock delivery. He wasn’t in the mood to stop by the pub and have to talk to anyone just yet, but luckily, he spotted a new pizza place across the way, so he ducked in just before closing and ordered up a large pie with the works—and one extra, for leftovers the next day.

  “I thought you athletes were supposed to eat healthy.”

  He turned and saw an older woman sitting at the corner table, swathed in a huge knit kaftan. “Debra!” Jake exclaimed, smiling. “You caught me. I won’t tell Coach if you don’t.” He winked, and Debra snorted.

  “Same charm as ever,” she said with a smile. “I’d get up, but as you can see, I’m moving slower these days. But, I guess you know a little something about that.”

  “News travels,” he agreed.

  “Still, good to see you up and about,” Debra said approvingly. “Back on track?”

  “Just taking it easy,” he replied. “I’ll be fine.”

  “So, you’ve got some time on your hands then?” Debra seemed to brighten. “Interesting.”

  Jake knew that look. It usually came right before a favor. Back in high school, he’d found himself hauling sets for theatre productions and cleaning out her gutters.

  “Well, you know, I can’t do too much,” he added quickly. “I’ve got my rehab program, it’s pretty demanding.”

  “Oh, shame,” Debra said. “Poor Mackenzie could use the help.”

  “Mac?” Jake’s head snapped up at the mention, and suddenly, his brain was flooded with images of her all over again.

  Teasing in that sleek wig. Laughing with him in the woods.

  Kissing him . . .

  “She’s running the Starbright Festival. All on her own.” Debra gave a dramatic sigh. “She’ll be run off her feet. But you take care with your rehab, I’m sure you have plenty to be busy with.”

  Suddenly, a bell sounded. Jake turned, confused. His order was up. “I should, umm . . .” He tried to remember what he’d been saying before Debra had mentioned Mackenzie, and all coherent thought went out the window.

  “Good to see you, kid. Don’t let it get cold,” Debra said merrily, and turned back to her own meal.

  Jake took the boxes and headed back outside, still thinking about Mackenzie’s lips, and the way she’d melted into him. He stepped out into the street—

  And got an earful of angry horn blast. He jumped back, just as a car rolled past.

  Jake shook his head. He needed to get a grip. Spacing out every time he even thought about Mackenzie could be hazardous to his health, plus, he was acting like an idiot. It was just a kiss. He’d kissed plenty of women, hell, he’d probably lost count. You didn’t play professional football without attracting your share of fans. Hot, sexy fans looking for a good time. He and his teammates hit the clubs after every game, and you could bet they never went home alone.

  But this was different.

  He headed back towards his truck, but something caught his eye across the square. A small gallery with colorful pottery in the window. This must be Mackenzie’s place.

  He crossed the street—carefully this time—and went to take a look. It was closed up, the lights off inside, but he could still see the shelves of ceramics, the bright glazes catching the streetlight gleam. Jake was impressed. He should have guessed it, she always had a way with paint, or clay, or even a cheap ballpoint pen. But this wasn’t just some amateur school project. The spotless floors, the white walls, the glass display cabinets . . . It looked like the kind of place you would find in Boston, or some other big city: reining all those wild ideas into something polished and professional.

  He wondered what path had led her here. There were ten whole years of her history blank, and although he’d always asked his parents for updates—heard about her going to art school, then moving back to Sweetbriar—it wasn’t the same. He used to know all about her life, from the TV shows she was obsessed with to the music she loved to her latest crush of the week. Now, he realized, he didn’t know a thing.

  Was there a man in her life?

  Jake immediately shot down that thought. Mackenzie had always been fiercely loyal, she sure as hell wouldn’t be running around kissing him if there was another guy waiting for her back home. But it seemed crazy for her to still be single, after all this time. She was beautiful, and smart, and talented—

  Not that it was any business of his.

  He turned away from the gallery and headed back to his car. The pizza was getting cold, and he had no reason to be loitering out here on street corners, wondering what Mackenzie was doing tonight.

  Impulsively, he pulled out his phone. He didn’t know if she’d kept the same cell
number, but he remembered her old one like it was yesterday. It rang, and rang, and then clicked to voicemail.

  “Hi, Mac, it’s Jake,” he said. “It was good running into you today. How about getting that drink sometime this week? My schedule is pretty much open, so you pick, any time. It would be great to catch up, so . . . call me. Take care.”

  He hung up, wondering if he was going to hear from her again. She’d bolted so fast that afternoon, it seemed like she couldn’t get away soon enough. But that was crazy, they weren’t going to let one little kiss get in the way of all their history.

  Even if it was one of the most mind-blowing kisses in his life.

  But if Mackenzie didn’t want to mention it, then he could play that game too, Jake decided. It wasn’t worth losing a friendship over, that was for sure. As far as he was concerned, it didn’t mean a thing.

  Not one, hot, sensual thing.

  He definitely wasn’t going to dream about her tonight, either. No, he had plans: pizza and a cold shower.

  Make that two cold showers.

  5

  It took Mackenzie less than forty-eight hours to seriously regret agreeing to steer the Starbright Festival plans. If the binder of doom wasn’t enough, Debra also sent over another box worth of notes and files, covering everything from the regulations on twinkly light displays (white, yellow, and blue were allowed, but apparently pink was forbidden), to the size of holiday trees that should be ordered, and even a file of potential Santa Claus actors ranked on beard length, friendliness, and their CPS background check. By Friday morning, she was meeting with the Mayor, trying to take notes fast enough to keep up with his enthusiastic plans.

  “The Cape usually gets over sixty thousand visitors in December alone,” Albert said excitedly. “But this year, I really want us to hit the big one hundred.”

  Mackenzie gulped. “That’s . . . ambitious.”

  “There’s nothing like it!” Albert declared. “The Starbright Festival celebrates every religion and race, all coming together to share the magic of the holidays. And you know, tourism is the engine that keeps the Cape alive,” he said over the top of his half-moon glasses. “Every person through that square doesn’t just come to marvel at the lights, they book a hotel room and buy dinner and gifts for everyone back home.”