Jesus, what was wrong with her?
Oh yeah: wine.
“Hey,” she called back, watching as he shut off the engine. “Throw me your line.”
Mac removed his sunglasses and placed them on the console before getting up to toss her the front line. “I’m not complainin’,” he said, “butsomething’sgot you near-naked out here drinking in the morning.”
Cassidy straightened from wrapping the line around the cleat. “Hm.” She walked toward the back of the boat and waited for the second line to be tossed to her.
“Hm?” he mimicked.
Catching the line, she tied it off, squatting this time. Remaining in her squat, she squinted at him. “Hey, I bought you a hat.”
Mac frowned at her like she’d gone daft, but he still desperately wanted to fuck her, so he didn’t want to insult her. He jerked his head to the side. “Down the hatch; wanna see it?”
Cassidy glanced toward the hatch, her heart skipping a beat and her body tingling, indicating a resounding yes. “No.”
Mac’s brows lowered as he took a seat on the bench near her, resting his arm along the side of the boat. “What’s going on?”
She shrugged, moving to sit on the side of the boat. She scanned the lake, her body moving with the slight bob of the water as her feet remained on the dock. This had to be confusing to him, her sitting on his boat after the last time she’d seen him; the intensity of it.
After their conversation, she felt better. Maybe that was weird, but she’d told him her fears, and he hadn’t made an excuse; had accepted it. No endless begging for forgiveness. His lack of defense made it easier to toy with the idea of forgiveness.
And having Fred back.
And Darlene’s reminder.
And her wedding rings.
And he was looking delicious this morning.
Then again: wine.
Glancing back down at him, she gave him a look of mock warning as she caught his eyes stripping her. “You need to stop looking at me like that.” Not that she minded.
Now his brows shot up. “Like what?”
“Like what?” she repeated in a playfully chiding tone.
Mac looked over at her empty wine glass. “What time’d you start hitting the sauce?”
“Not early enough.”
“Something’s eating at you,” he said, then added with a grin, “and it ain’t me, or you’d be smiling.”
That particular area of her body flooded with a sudden want, and she tossed him an annoyed look, which made him grin even wider because they both knew she wasn’t annoyed. “Stop it.”
Mac smiled at her in heated adoration.
She held up her left hand. “I stored them in the fireplace.”
His dark eyes shifted from her rings to her eyes, his uncertainty evident.
“I didn’t take them off. I’d lost them. I threw them in a drunken rage.”
He chuckled. “I heard you liked to throw things when you’re mad.”
She smiled; she’d told him that on this boat. She’d thrown his chair at him. She asked, “Do you think it means anything? That I lost them when I became your side piece but found them again when I stopped?”