Chickening out, she asked, “When do you get your boat?” Lifted the bottle, took a swig, as though this had been why she’d asked him to wait around.
Mac didn’t miss a beat; the rocking kept on pace. “Few weeks.” His eyes were glued to her face. When she ducked her head, he pressed, “That it?”
Nope.
Cassidy took another pull on the bottle as though she’d find salvation in it. Or maybe she’d get lucky and a meteor would strike. Her heart was pounding; everything in her screamed to thank him for the beer and walk away; she didn’t need to make something unofficialofficial,especially when he was looking at her as though he already knew the words about to leave her mouth; daring her to say them.
She stalled. “I overheard a conversation in the bar a few days ago. One friend was consoling another friend, a break-up or something. One was telling the other that you don’t realize that the last time you have sex with someone, that’s the last time you’re going to have sex with that person.”
She glanced up; he was still staring at her, his slow cadence unchanged, as though he had all evening to listen to her story. She shrugged half-heartedly and examined her beer bottle. “It’s true. I thought about Elijah. Our last time wasn’t memorable. It was just married morning sex, he wanted it, and I was tired and half asleep and wanted it over with.”
Tossing him an embarrassed smile, she looked away again before noting his reaction. “The pregnancy drained me from the start, so I wastired. He got it; he understood it. But…” She paused. “I don’t know, the only memorable thing about it was thatthat’sthe last he had of me before he died. The last we had of each other.”
No words, just back and forth, and his steady regard.
Peeling at the label, she tried to force out a laugh. “Not what you want to hear about, the last time Elijah and I had sex.” At his continued silence, she added, “Like I said, it wasn’t memorable or spectacular, not like with…”You.
“Your story have a point?”
Her eyes lifted to him mournfully. “Our last time, Mac? That had to be our last time.” There was a hitch to the rocking before he returned to his rhythm, so slight she wasn’t even sure she hadn’t imagined it.
But his brow rose in question.
“You wanted me to go back to how this started for me, and you’re right. So I am.” Yep, she threw him under the bus; it wasn’t fair. His eyes blazed into hers as she’d said that; the brief flare of angry possession she saw made her heart leap, but he extinguished it so fast, she was beginning to think she saw reactions in him shewantedto see.
He nodded.
She sought out Fred to escape his eyes. “You can still hang out with Fred.”
“Why would that change?”
Cassidy blinked, looking back up, stammering, “No, I mean… I didn’t want you to think…”
“We didn’t break up. We were never together.”
Knife right through her. “I know that!”
“Uh-huh,” he responded, eyeing her warily. “What’s the song and dance about?”
“I just… thank you.”
His brows rose again, taken off guard.
“Mac, you know what you’ve done for me. I would never have been in a place to move forward if not for you. I mean, I was jumping in the lake, sleeping on the sofa, falling over on the side of the road…”
He held up his beer in a gesture to stop her, eyes taking on a twinkle as his lips curved.
That hint of a smile warmed her inside out. She glowed, asking hesitantly, “Are we good?”
“We’ll always be good,” he assured her.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely, gazing into the depths of his warm brown eyes.
He winked, offering her more of a smile.
Lord, what had she done?
Two and a half weeks later, Cassidy found herself making her way through the woods to Mac’s cabin with Fred again. She hadn’t even been able to stay away from him for three full weeks. Of course, this was about Fred. And Fred was giddy.