Chasing Sunsets (29 page)

“Organic, no sugar, no bread.” Marcus laughed. “Or . . . we could get pizza?”

Mary Catherine pressed her shoulder into the seat. “Seriously. I’ll make you almond chicken. It’ll be better than pizza. Promise!”

“Actually, that sounds pretty amazing.”

They went to Whole Foods near his house and picked up the ingredients. Then they worked together in the kitchen. “You be my sous chef. How’s that sound?”

“It sounds like a girl’s name.” He washed his hands. “But if you have to call me Sue to pull off this meal, go ahead.” His computer was on a desk at the edge of the kitchen. He turned on Pandora and found a piano station.

Mary Catherine was trying to explain that the word
sous
meant he was her assistant for the night. “Just think.” She grinned as she handed him an onion and a bell pepper. “You might fall in love with organic cooking. The way I did. This night could change your life.”

She turned to the sink and Marcus stood there, just watching her.

He had never met anyone like her, the way she didn’t care
what people thought of her, the way she grabbed onto life like every day might be her last. He smiled. Yes, he might fall in love, and no question this night could change his life. But if that happened it would have nothing to do with the cooking.

The chicken was in a colander and Mary Catherine was separating the pieces. She looked over her shoulder. “Hey. You’re supposed to be mincing those.”

“Mincing.” He found a knife and a cutting board. “I know cutting and slicing. I believe you were going to give me a demonstration on mincing. Wasn’t that it?”

She moved to the adjacent sink, washed her hands, and dried them on a clean towel. “Okay.” She came to him, her eyes sparkling. Night had fallen and it was just the two of them in the house. “Step aside.”

He did, but not too far. The smell of her perfume filled his senses and made him wish they were more than a couple of friends making dinner together. She took the teaching seriously. “Mincing is smaller, neater.” She cut a slice of the onion and then, using small movements, she turned the slice into tiny squares no bigger than the head of an eraser.

“Looks like a lot of work.” Marcus laughed. “You sure we can’t just slice them?”

“It’s not hard. Here.” She handed him the knife. “You try it.”

He was utterly aware of her presence, the way their arms touched, the movement of her hands. He took the knife and gave it a try. The work was tedious, but he managed it.

“Perfect!” She leaned closer, moving the pile of minced onions to the side. “You got it?”

He wanted to take her in his arms and dance across the kitchen, forget about the onions and everything. Everything
but her. Instead he did a slight bow. “Glad it meets your approval, Miss.”

She giggled at him. “You sure you weren’t raised in the South?”

“I wish.” He held her eyes. “Maybe I would’ve met you sooner.”

His words seemed to touch her deeply. Her laughter softened and she smiled at him. “I would’ve liked that.”

“Me, too.” He looked at the onions. “Better get cooking.”

When it came time to prepare the chicken, Mary Catherine made a mixture with almond flour and spices. She dipped each small boneless chicken piece into a bowl of almond milk and then coated it with the almond flour. In the pan, she melted coconut oil and fried the chicken in that.

“Uh, can I just say . . .” Marcus hadn’t smelled something so good in months. “You can cook dinner at my house anytime.”

“Told you it would change your life.” She kept the teasing tone. Probably because it was safe and fun, given her determination that she didn’t want more than a friendship.

Marcus didn’t care. He only wanted to be with her. The teasing was fun for him, too. He sautéed the minced vegetables along with sliced zucchini and they ate out on his deck. The night was unseasonably warm. Still seventy-five when they sat down to eat.

“It’s beautiful here.” Mary Catherine looked out over Silver Lake. “Sami told me about the view.”

“You need to come over more often.” The meal was perfect. But it was nothing to how wonderful it felt sitting here with her, outside of training or prisons or anything to do with
the youth center. It reminded him of that first walk. Before the shooting.

“So the Wayne family lives around the corner?” Mary Catherine grinned at him. “No wonder you’re so close with them.”

“Rhonda loved you. She really wants to get to know you better.”

“I’d like that.”

“By the way.” Marcus held up a bite of the almond chicken. “You’ve sold me. Organic cooking definitely just changed my life.” He chuckled. “Seriously, I had no idea it would be this good.”

“Food the way God made it actually tastes better. That was one of the things I had to learn.”

“So you really don’t eat sugar or bread? Like ever?”

Mary Catherine laughed. “You make it sound like a punishment.”

“I guess I can’t imagine.” He took another bite. “Tell me you didn’t want ice cream earlier.”

“Sure, it tastes good. But I didn’t want it.” She raised her brow. “Sugar causes disease. Diabetes. Dementia.” She gave him a silly look. “And yes. I do eat pizza once in a while. I’m not perfect.”

He stared at her, studying her. Memorizing her high cheekbones and the shine in her eyes. “Awfully close.”

She smiled. “You’re too kind.”

“Just honest.”

They finished their meal, and the whole time their conversation was easy and fun. Marcus could feel himself falling into her gravity, but he didn’t care. The sensation was mes
merizing. Together they carried the dishes in and Mary Catherine looked back at him. “When will Tyler be home?”

“I think he and Sami went to the movies.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and checked the time. “Probably not for another hour.”

Mary Catherine nodded. They worked rinsing their plates and scrubbing pans. The whole time Marcus tried to think of a reason to make her stay. It was just after nine o’clock. “You don’t work tomorrow, right?” He gave her a hopeful look.

“I don’t. The studio’s closed every other Wednesday.” She dried her hands on the towel.

“Can you stay? For a little while?”

“Well . . .” She seemed to struggle with the idea. But then she smiled and slipped her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I noticed your pool table.”

She was constantly surprising him. “You play?”

“Play?” She cocked her chin. “I thought about going pro. Decided it would take too much time.”

The air between them was electric. Marcus was grateful for the distraction of a pool game. “Well, then . . . rack ’em up.”

Halfway through the first game, Marcus started to laugh. “I thought you were kidding. About going pro.”

“Never.” She feigned an innocent look. “I never tease, Marcus. Not ever.”

“Not about pool. That much is for sure.” She was three balls ahead of him. “You could win a fortune at this. How’d you learn?”

“Played with my dad.” Mary Catherine held her cue stick at her side and smiled. “It was the way we connected.”

Marcus shook his head. “The man taught you well.”

They played two games, and she won them both. “I could suggest best of five. But I’m afraid that would become best of seven at this rate.”

Her laughter mixed with the piano music drifting through the house. “Maybe something less competitive.”

“I have backgammon.” He nodded toward a shelf in the family room. “Nobody touches me at backgammon.”

“Next time.” She smiled. “I should go.”

“It’s early.” He didn’t break eye contact with her. “Let’s step out back again. The stars are probably just perfect.” He reached for her hand and hesitated, drawn to her in a way he could barely fight. But she had made herself clear at the beach. He couldn’t push for more. “Come on.” He walked with her outside and they took up their spots at the railing, staring at the lake.

“You were right.” She lifted her face to the sky. “The stars are gorgeous.”

“I don’t come out here often enough. You can feel God on nights like this.”

“Mmmm. I like how you said that.” She put her head on his shoulder. “You’re right. I can feel Him, too.”

Marcus was losing the fight. Why would she put her head on his shoulder if she only wanted to be friends? He slipped his arm around her waist and they stayed that way, the music falling all around them.

A buzzing came from Mary Catherine’s phone. “Sorry.” She pulled it from her pocket. “I’ll turn it off.”

But before she did, she looked at the message. “It’s from Shamika.” Mary Catherine adjusted the brightness so she
could read it. “She says Jalen is doing even better.” A soft gasp came from her. “The doctors think he’ll make a full recovery!” She texted back as quickly as her fingers could move. “Amazing!” She turned her phone off and slid it back into her pocket.

Then, as if it were the most natural thing, she hugged him, impulsively linking her arms easily around the back of his neck. “I can’t believe it. So much has happened. So many highs and lows. I mean, only God.” Her laugh was part surprise, part relief.

Marcus slipped his arms around her waist. “I wondered how I’d go on. At the youth center.” He spoke near her face. “If the boy never woke up.”

The hug was meant as a celebration. One of those extreme highs they’d shared over the last week. Except after a few seconds, neither of them seemed to want to let go. She rested her head on his shoulder again. The song was something instrumental by Chicago.

He leaned back, searching her eyes. “Wanna dance?”

“I’m not very good at it.” Her voice fell to a whisper as they started to sway.

“I doubt that.” He held her close and led her slowly across the deck. Never mind that they were outside. The magic of the moment made him feel drunk with joy. Was this really happening? They were dancing under the stars and Mary Catherine wasn’t fighting him?

“You, on the other hand . . .” She tilted her face to his. “You’re quite the dancer.”

“Took it for a year in college.” He laughed. “Coach thought it would give the pitchers better balance.”

“Did it?”

He looked at the sky and then back at her. “It gave me this.”

“Well then.” She didn’t look away. “I guess it was worth it.”

The song was ending, and Marcus could barely breathe. They were back at the railing and he slowed their movement, stopped their swaying. “Mary Catherine.” He swallowed. He didn’t know what to say. He only wanted this feeling to last forever.

She put her head on his chest again. “I’m sorry.”

“No.” He gently lifted her chin so she would look at him. “Don’t be sorry.”

Her eyes told him whatever was happening between them, she was feeling it, too. “I can’t . . . I’m not . . .”

“Shhh.” He took her face in his hands. It was too late to stop, too late to do anything but kiss her. The way he had wanted to kiss her since their walk that night. Slowly he brought his face to hers. Their lips touched and the feeling was light and passion and desperation, all at the same time.

She didn’t fight him, didn’t try to pull away. Instead she returned his kiss, working her hand up his neck to the back of his head. Marcus was consumed by her, taken by her in a way that affected his entire being. She moved him, body and soul. He drew back, checking her eyes. “You okay?”

“I need to go.” Her lips were still parted, her breathing faster than before. “Marcus . . . I want this.” She hung her head and when she looked up the sadness in her eyes was greater than the heat a few seconds ago. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” She leaned up and kissed him again, slowly, deliberately. But it was a goodbye kiss.

Marcus could feel the difference.

She stepped back. “Take me home. Please.”

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Marcus reached for her hand. “I’m sorry. I should’ve waited.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t . . . explain it.” She allowed him to hold her hand as they walked in and got her things.

On the drive, disappointment greater than the breadth of the sky washed over him. What was wrong with her? When they reached her apartment, Marcus killed the engine and turned to her. “Is it me? You’re not attracted to me?”

A single laugh escaped her and she let her head fall back. “Are you serious?” She looked at him, her cheeks slightly redder than before. “I can’t even think around you.” She took his hand and looked deep into his eyes. “You make me feel . . . like I’ve never felt.”

“So . . .” Hope shot through Marcus. “Maybe we need to take things slower. Stay with Tyler and Sami so”—he laughed—“you know, we don’t wind up dancing under the stars.”

The laughter left her and she looked at her hands for a long few seconds. “It’s not that.” She angled her face and turned her eyes to him once more. “Please, Marcus. Trust me.”

He wanted to argue, but there wasn’t room. She had left him no choice. He climbed out, helped her from her side of the car, and walked with her up to the door. When he hugged her, she let herself linger. But she eased back before either of them might think about another kiss. “Thank you.” She smiled, her eyes as sincere as summer. “I had the best night ever.”

“Me, too.” He wanted to stop time and make her explain things. How could she slip into her apartment without helping him understand? If they both felt this, then how come . . . ?

Her smile was marked with longing. “Bye.”

“Bye.”

He waited until she shut the door before turning around and heading back to his car. In all his life he’d never felt like this. The way she made him feel. And since she was as drawn to him as he was to her, he had no idea what the problem was or why she wouldn’t tell him. He knew only one thing.

He wouldn’t give up until she did.

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