Just My Type (24 page)
She laughed. “Got it.”
“Hey, Sara, tell me more about this body powder,” Dooley said, stepping close to her.
“What about it? You put it on. Easy.”
He took her hand and turned it palm up. Then he bent and licked the skin just above her wrist.
Sara giggled. Mac saw red.
He shoved Dooley back, pulling Sara behind him. “What the hell was that?” He glowered at his friend.
Dooley looked at him and licked his lips. “Yum.”
Mac leaned toward him menacingly and Dooley had the nerve to smile. “Knock it off.”
“Hey, a girl doesn’t wear edible body powder if she doesn’t want to be licked. Right, princess?”
“He’s got a point Mac,” Sara said from behind him.
“And you don’t care who licks you?” he asked, still staring at Dooley.
He couldn’t believe how seeing another man touching Sara like that had affected him.
“Oh, I care.” She moved in closer to him. He felt her even though he couldn’t see her. “I bought the powder with only one man in mind.”
“Hear that?” Mac asked Dooley. “Stop licking my wife. Better yet, stop touching her altogether.” Dooley raised an eyebrow and smiled knowingly. “Right. Thanks for the reminder she’s your wife.” Mac stared at him. He’d said that, hadn’t he? He hadn’t said “Sara”. He’d said “my wife”. She was, of course. Even though he was trying valiantly to not think of her that way. He also shouldn’t sound so damned protective and possessive.
Shit.
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“Okay, I won’t lick her anymore,” Dooley promised. “But I want the website address where you got that powder, princess.”
“Stop calling her princess too,” Mac said.
Dooley scoffed at that. “You’re the one that started the name. She knows I mean it affectionately.” He was being irrational and knew it. Dooley and Kevin had called her princess as long as he had. The name had taken on a new meaning to him since this whole mess had started, though. He’d called her princess while he was making love to her. It was his name for her. Period.
“Of course I do,” Sara said, giving Mac a strange look.
“You’re still going to stop,” Mac told Dooley.
Dooley shrugged. “Okay, the option is then ‘sexy’ or ‘babe’. Which do you prefer?”
“Sara,” Mac said flatly. “Or Mrs. Gordon.”
Dooley, Kevin and Sara all snorted at that. Mac was no way a Mr., so his wife simply couldn’t be Mrs.
“Second half is starting,” Kevin interrupted, moving toward the field.
Dooley went with Kevin and Mac followed with Sara at his side. For the first time, Mac watched football and paid no attention to the game.
Sara smelled good, felt good against his side with his arm around her, and he could close his eyes and picture her—even hear her—coming for him.
Damn.
“Hey, Jason.”
Mac turned to see Matt Thompson and Tyler Katz standing there. “Hey, guys.” They were easily ten years younger than him—more Sara’s age… He blocked that thought.
“We wanted to meet Sara,” Matt said with a smile for her.
“Hi.” She extended her hand and Matt shook it. Tyler repeated the action.
Mac frowned. They were more her age. She was gorgeous. And sweet. And wonderful.
But she was his wife. They knew that. And she was here with him. And Matt was married.
“What’s up, guys?” Mac asked, his tone less friendly than usual.
“We were, um…” Tyler looked at Matt.
Matt was much less shy. He grinned and said, “We want some of the body powder everyone’s talking about.”
Mac arched an eyebrow. “What’s that mean?”
“It was from a website, right?” Matt asked Sara.
“Scandalous Somethings dot com,” she replied with a big friendly smile.
“Awesome. Thanks.”
The guys moved off and Mac stared down at Sara in bewilderment.
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He would have bet that something like announcing she wore edible body powder would have labeled her as wild and a city girl and an outsider, if not worse—like slutty—in Oscar. Instead, she had become a legend.
Damn.
“Everyone knows your name, princess,” he commented.
Sara smiled up at him and Mac felt it like a punch to the stomach. She was happy. Sincerely happy she’d made an impression.
“Not how I planned it,” she said with a shrug. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.” Mac felt a prick of conscience. She wanted to have friends. Sara was the type of person who had to have friends. And it was happening anyway. In spite of the fact he’d dumped her here, knowing no one, completely out of her element.
She was cute. That was the problem. If she was just gorgeous, just sexy, just someone he wanted with every ounce of lust his body was capable of, this would all be so much easier. But she was cute. Sweet.
Fun. Someone he wanted for more than her body.
Which was why he was in love with her. Which was why he wouldn’t mind staying married to her.
If things were different. If his life were different. If
he
was different.
He hugged her close to his side, taking a deep breath of the sweet smell of her hair. And as if in confirmation his eyes landed on someone over her head.
Heather Macintosh stared back at him. The first girl he’d messed with that he shouldn’t have. She still hated him for talking her into her first sexual experience on the couch in Tim Conner’s basement when he had no intention of even asking her to prom. And he deserved it.
“Yes!” Sara jerked under his arm and he looked down to find her jumping up and down. “Yes! Go Sean! Go!”
Mac pulled his attention to the field in time to watch Sean break free and run the thirty yards to the end zone.
“Did you see that, Mac?” she asked. “Wow, that was a great pass!” Mac chuckled in spite of the dark thoughts from a moment ago. “You don’t know football.”
“I beg your pardon.” Sara looked offended. “I watched Sam play and I’ve been forced to watch Husker games every Saturday for the past twelve years.”
“Every Saturday?” he repeated. “They don’t play year-round, princess.”
“Well, it seems like it sometimes,” she grumbled. “Anyway, being an intelligent person I was bound to pick a few things up after watching that much.”
“I can only agree with you at this point,” he said.
“Oh?”
“If I don’t, it’s kind of like saying you’re not intelligent, right?” 136
Just My Type
She laughed and nudged him with her hip. “Right.”
He liked making her laugh. He liked how easy it was to be with her. He liked pretty much everything about her. Except her insistence on being married to him.
The game ended three minutes later, the home team was victorious and the party on Main Street was in full swing within twenty minutes of the final play.
A local band provided the music—a mix of rock and country covers—the drinks were bring-your-own and the fun and laughter flowed easily.
“You gonna dance with me?” Sara asked, sliding onto Mac’s lap after a dance with Dooley.
He shifted her so her butt wasn’t against his groin, but didn’t push her off his lap like he probably should have. “Doubt it.”
“Why?” She wiggled.
He didn’t trust that she’d wiggled without knowing what it did to him. He put his hands firmly on her hips to hold her still. “Don’t want to.”
“Why not?” She tried to wiggle, then gave a frustrated sigh. “Want to go home and have sex until Dooley and Kevin get there?”
“No,” he lied.
She didn’t look convinced.
“Want to make out in your car?”
“No.”
“Want me to tell you all the places I put the body powder?”
“
No
.”
“Come on.” She stood up and took his hand.
“What?” He let her pull him to his feet. Because if she
insisted
on taking him to the car and showing him where she’d put the powder, he wasn’t going to make a scene by fighting her. “Where are we going?”
“If you’re not going to let me rub against you on your lap or on the dance floor and you’re not going to take me home or to the car to let me do more than rub against you, then I want a tour.” His body didn’t believe one frickin’ word that his brain thought when he agreed he didn’t want to do any of those things.
“A tour? Of what?” he asked as they started down the sidewalk.
“The town.”
He chuckled and gestured with his free hand. “Here it is.”
“Not that kind of tour. The tour of your life here,” she said.
He had to shorten his strides to stay beside her. “What do you mean?”
“I want to see the first place you had a job, the first place you got hurt and needed stitches, the first place you kissed a girl.”
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He looked down at her, a little amazed. “How do you know all of that happened here?”
“Because of how much you love it here.”
Mac stopped, tugging her to a stop as well. “How do you know that?” She smiled up at him. The streetlight shone on her hair. “I know you, Mac. I can tell when something matters to you.”
It made sense. He knew what mattered to her, what made her laugh, what freaked her out. “I worked in the grocery store,” he said. “Started when I was fifteen and worked every weekend and summer until I went to college.”
“I’ve been to the grocery store,” she said. “Okay, what else?” He couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly wanted to show her. Oscar did matter to him. It was home.
“Okay.” They started walking again. The silence was comfortable and he loved how her hand seemed to fit perfectly in his even though his was so much bigger. Two blocks later he gestured to the tiny drive-in famous for their chocolate-dipped cones. “This was the first place I drove to when I got my license.”
“Did you drive in from the farm?” she asked. She was studying the building instead of looking at him, almost as if she was imagining him there.
“The farm was my grandparents’. I lived here in town. Up by the Methodist church. It’s about eight blocks from here.”
She chuckled. “So not a long trip, but I’m guessing it was still monumental.”
“Of course.” He found himself smiling as well.
“Okay, so where were you when you first needed stitches?”
“I didn’t need stitches until after college,” he told her.
She lifted her hand and gently tugged the neckline of his T-shirt to one side. He knew what she was looking at. “How did this happen?”
“A bullet.”
She grimaced. “On a call?”
Sara knew his work was sometimes dangerous. He and the crew worked the night shift as paramedics.
They saw some nasty stuff at times. They were also at risk some of the time. They were called to fires, domestic disturbances, bar fights and more. They handled it well. None of them had ever needed more than an ice pack and a stitch or two.
“No. This was…a fight that got out of hand. I wasn’t the target.”
“You stepped in front of someone.” She didn’t ask it. She stated it. Like she was sure.
“Yes.”
“Did you save them?” She traced her finger along the scar where the bullet had grazed his shoulder.
He took a deep breath before answering. “Not exactly.”
She turned her gaze up to his face. “No?”
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“After this shot missed, she fired again.”
“She?” Sara repeated.
He didn’t say anything. He was
not
going to tell her this story.
“A woman shot at you?”
“Not at me. I just got in the way.”
“Who then? One of the guys?” Sara’s eyes widened. “Was it my brother?” Mac actually felt like smiling at that. He couldn’t help it. It was kind of funny Sara would assume her brother was the target of a woman pissed enough to be shooting at someone.
“No. It wasn’t any of the guys. It was before I met them.”
“And it wasn’t at a call?” she repeated. “Then what?”
“Sara, I don’t want to talk about it.”
She frowned at him. “Too bad. I think I should know.”
“Why?”
“Because someone
scarred
you. I think, as your wife, I should know about all of the ways you’ve been hurt.”
As she looked up at him, Mac realized she wasn’t talking only about physical hurts either. She wanted to know about his wounds.
There was no way he was going to tell her.
“It doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago.”
“Fine. I’ll just ask Sam. He’ll know all about it, I’m guessing.”
Shit
. Mac squeezed his eyes shut. Of course Sam knew about it. And Sam would love more proof that Sara shouldn’t be with him. It should have been a good answer—but Mac didn’t want her to know that way.
“It was a woman, okay?”
“Who was shooting?”
“And who was being shot at.” He opened his eyes and looked at Sara.
She looked thoughtful. “They were fighting over you?”
“Kind of.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Kind of? I don’t think people
shoot
other people over things that can be described as
kind of
.”
He sighed. “Want to see the place I first kissed a girl?” He was going to kiss
her
. As soon as possible.
That was much preferable to all of this. It was much preferable to pretty much everything.
She crossed her arms. “
Now
you’re going to initiate something physical?” He stepped closer to her. “I’m pretty sure showing up in St. Croix would be defined as initiating things, princess.”
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“Uh-uh.” She stepped back, shaking her head. “Forget it. I want to know why there was a gunfight over you.”
“It wasn’t over me,” he said with resignation. He knew Sara. She wouldn’t drop it. “But it was because of me. As in, I caused it.”
“You pissed a woman off enough she wanted to shoot someone?” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s what happened. I’m going to tell you this one time and then we’re going to drop it.”
She didn’t agree, and he knew he’d be answering at least a dozen questions. Still, he felt the need to at least try to exert some control.
