Cassidydidn’twakeupuntil early afternoon. It’d been one of the best and hardest periods of sleep she’d had in a long time not been aided by alcohol. She was pretty sure she hadn’t even moved, and as she rolled onto her back, her body screaming, she became convinced of it.
No one was in bed with her; Mac was gone. If not for the soreness between her legs, she would’ve been able to tell herself she’d dreamt his presence, dreamt the morning sex. Oh, and the fact she was waking up in her bed, to which he’d carried her.
Rubbing her face, she had the random thought he carried her a lot. Hedidtreat her like a sack of potatoes. Of course, she kind of liked it, how easily he grabbed her up and hoisted her in his arms. More, threw her over his shoulder like a caveman taking her back to his lair. Pure possession there.
Some feminists might berate her for the thought. But then, they’d probably never had a man take charge of them before. They’d never hadMacgrab them up.
She smacked herself in the forehead. “Stop it.”
No lingering thoughts about the man. Bad enough he’d caught her off guard this morning.
Never in her wildest imaginings could she have foreseen him waking her up and pulling her into his arms. She hadn’t even meant to fall asleep in the chair, waiting for Fred, but obviously, she had. The last thing she remembered was the eerie quiet of the night after being so worried and alarmed.
And then, the movement of her body not of her own accord and looking up into his amused, affectionate brown eyes. At least, she thought she’d seen tenderness as he’d lifted her—she’d also been reeling, trying to bring her mind into full awareness.
When he’d told her he was taking her to bed, her heart had leaped, and her body had responded. And yes, in her floaty dream state, she’d wanted him.
Okay, liar, she couldn’t blame her semi-conscious state. Wanting Mac was just like any other craving; once you had cheesecake, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. Same with Mac.
Jerkextraordinairethat he could be notwithstanding.
Case in point. Got his rocks off and gone.
Sitting up, stretching out her aching muscles, she hadn’t exactly expected him to stay. Hell, she hadn’t expected to have sex with him this morning, but…
Whatdidshe expect?
Shoving back the light cover, she went into the bathroom for a shower.
Afterward, dressing for work in a floral cotton skirt and a simple pink v-neck shirt with tennis shoes, her hair back in a ponytail, she headed toward the front room. Fred was sitting in front of the sliding glass door, looking out, tongue out in a slight pant.
“Oh, puppy, did I not unlock your door?” She couldn’t remember. But she drew back the slider now, and he bounded out. She watched him for a second, but he stayed in the yard, no looks of concern into the woods.
She surveyed the woods. She had questions. But she didn’t have time, and he wouldn’t welcome the intrusion.
She scoffed. He wanted his space, but he could come over here and climb into her bed.
Turning toward the kitchen, she saw the flat of croissants on her bar. Throwing a hand of annoyance into the air, she said to no one, “You’d think this was Grand Central Station, the way everyone helps themselves into my home.” She stalked over and counted eleven croissants where there should be twelve.
Snatching up the note, she read it.Mac took the missing one.
On a loud groan, Cassidy fell forward onto the counter. Marge knew. No way would Mac have been discreet. She had no idea how or when, but both Marge and Mac had been in her house at the same time while she was asleep… Yeah, even if he’d tried to play it cool—which he wouldn’t have—Marge wouldn’t have bought it.
“Really, Cassidy, right after she lectured you? Ugh!” She banged her forehead twice on the countertop.
And to add a level of nerves to her already schoolgirl-level emotions, she would undoubtedly see him tonight, with that knowing smirk. She groaned again. What had she done?
She wasn’t like Darlene. He had her pegged on that. She wasn’t falling for him—hell no—but she also wasn’t able to be so casual about such things, as though they’d shared a cup of coffee.
“Please be decent for once and don’t show up tonight,” she sent the plea out into the universe, hoping he’d pick up on it.
Two and a half hours later, she decided that she and the universe were still enemies. Mac strode through the door of the bar and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. He spotted her and grinned lazily. It instantly had the entire morning’s episode replaying in her mind, complete with sensory effect.
If she looked like she’d been whacked in the back of the head as she stared back at him, it’s because that’s how she felt; stunned stupid, and without a functioning brain cell as heat enveloped her.
Of course, hell was supposed to be accompanied by fire.
Giving her a satisfied smirk, imparting his awareness he’d made an impression, his dark eyes released hers for a possessive meander over her. Wiping at his bottom lip as though remembering the taste of her skin, he veered toward a booth and sat—thankfully—facing away from the bar. Cassidy almost fell to the floor.