“Mack,” I breathe. There’s something special, almost transcendental about saying his name after his lips were just on mine. “Tell me… tell me why.”
He brings his hand to the hollow of my neck, fingers caressing me there. “I can’t, sweet pea. Not yet.” He shakes his head sadly. “I know it’s not good enough. I know you need more. It has to do with…”
I back away, gently moving his arms away from my body. In the dim starlight, I can see his eyes watching me, assessing me. There’s a spark inside of me that wants to trust him fully, wants to run into his party and tell that silly little girl to leave. But between us, there’s six years of silence. If what he says is true, there’s six years of deceit as well.
“If you can’t tell me,” I say, my voice gentler perhaps than it should be. “I can’t do this. And maybe that’s why I shouldn’t have come. If I’d known you’d try something like this—”
“Like this? Like this… This is kissing you because I couldn’t keep my mind off of you from the time you got here. From the moment I saw you leaning over me that night, it hit me that I’m not the man I used to be. Really. You make me feel like I can be myself again. Like I can try and be more than people think I am.”
The emotion roils up inside me like a storm. Is this the thing I wanted to hear, the words I came here to hear? Or is this a distraction—is it the same pain all over again?
“I want to believe you, Mack. But this isn’t the time—there are people leaving this party now. The media already has stills of you and Kinley. We have a deal with her, a contract. I’m not willing to risk your career on promises and late night kisses.” Working against the pull of my own body, I step away and turn back to the door of my guest house. “Macklin, go back to your house and see this thing through. If you’re getting cold feet with this plan, we can rethink it after tonight.”
“Okay.” He shrugs and stands there watching me. “But at least give it some thought. Give me some thought, sweet pea.”
I nod and walk into the darkened house, thoughts racing, blood rushing through my veins. There’s no way I should give him a single thought, and yet here I am.
And as I do, I realize that he’s all I’ve ever been thinking about. He’s the only thing.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Damnable woman,” I mutter under my breath. I’m lifting weights in the team’s gym, getting ready to practice with the other players. And cursing Renata and Wingate for being right when they pointed out that it’s something I haven’t done in a damn long time.
Too long.
That woman’s always right.
Ever since that stupid party, my name has appeared in the papers just about as much as it usually does, but this time, it’s all positive. There are pictures of me and Kinley, who I have to admit is kind of nice. And she photographs well, which is also something I haven’t done in a long time. Not since the kegs and girls wrestling and the “Take Your Top Off” sign that Wingate burned out behind the guest house.
I have to give it to her. Renata knew just what she was doing. Eddie called me up again and let me know he was very pleased the party was a success—and that he’s looking forward to me starting the season.
This time he added that there might be a pay increase for me down the line, which would likely help my brother out with his farm. That statement made me flinch—like Eddie’s the man behind the curtain, pulling strings and offering bribes, making sure we’re doing as he pleases.
But I’ve been vying for that salary increase for a long-ass time. It’s funny that it all has to do with a woman—not with my performance. Not with the multiple times I saved the team and brought them to victory. It has to do with connections and power plays and a little country singer without much personality to speak of. And Renata had known it would, of course.
Goddammit.
Renata was right.
Damn her.
“Stubborn woman. Doesn’t know what she wants,” I mutter, tensing the muscles in my chest and lifting the weight above my head. My arms shake a little, and I can feel the lactic acid burning in my muscles.
Yeah, it couldn’t be that you’re the asshole she’s trying to stay away from. Couldn’t be that, could it Mack? You idiot. Couldn’t be that she was right, and she’s doing the job she came here to do.
My friend Darius is spotting me, hands hovering over the bar as I lift it.
“More weight,” I grunt.
“You sure, Mack? Sounds like you’re busy muttering about some woman. I don’t want this thing to fall on your neck and split you in half.”