Page 92 of Just for Tonight

I also will not think about the other contender, the one whose existence is probably the reason I haven’t heard anything from Mackenzie since our late-night chat. Did I convince her to dive into that relationship, regardless of her doubts? I can’t believe she would walk away based on my advice.

Where exactly does she stand with Darcy? I’d give a kidney to know for sure.

Instead, I do my best impression of a man at leisure as I consider how I might just ask Mackenzie without giving her any idea of the depth of my interest. I chat with the waitress about the specials. We compare and contrast the daily pasta I had last time with tonight’s offering. I order a bottle of wine and make sure it’s from Rhodes Vineyards. I choose my meal. I pretend to read a book on my phone while I wait, a man in complete confidence of his romantic situation. I text Mike to make sure it’s okay for me to stay at the house tonight and get a thumbs-up. He’s probably still in the greenhouses and I shudder at the very prospect of tomatoes.

Tomorrow, though, tomorrow, I will be surrounded by them. Ugh. The business plan is good but needs some oomph. I’m down here to find it.

I give the meal my undivided attention and it is really good. And then I stretch out my legs, sip my wine, and pretend to read on my phone again.

I am a courtier awaiting the favour of my lady’s attention – not perhaps a guy remembering the precise sound Mackenzie makes when she comes, the way she fights for control right to the last second, how clearly she’s surprised to be overwhelmed and how much she loves it. I can feel the way she clenches around me, the graze of her teeth on my skin, the impression of her nails, and the soft slick sweetness of her that threatens to drown me every time.

What a way to go.

This is not exactly the best direction for my thoughts, not on this night of nights. I have no idea what the evening holds for me or Mackenzie, but I have to assume that the presence of a man in her life who is itching to propose means that Mackenzie and I are friends. Friends formerly with benefits but no longer.

Just friends.

The guy glares at me on his way out the door. I feel the look but don’t glance up to intersect it. Instead, I’m smiling at Mackenzie who is walking towards me. Beautiful, yes, but so much more than that. Glamourous. Confident.

Relieved.

I made that last bit happen and I’m proud of it. I stand up when she reaches the table and she slides a hand around my neck, kissing me as if we meet like this all the time. My hand is on the back of her waist again, her perfume is surrounding me, and even if this is fiction for one specific observer, I’m not about to cut it short.

It is, after all, the sum of my reward for playing the bear.

I pull out her chair. “Silver Volvo?” I ask.

“Two door sedan,” she agrees softly, then recites the license plate number. She touches the wine bottle. “Did you save me a glass?”

“Absolutely. Or something else, if you’d rather.”

“This Cabernet Franc would be perfect. Thanks.”

At my gesture, the waitress brings another glass and pours for Mackenzie, then tops up mine with the rest of the bottle.

Mackenzie has her back to the door and keeps her gaze fixed upon me.

“And we’re off,” I say as the silver Volvo pulls out of its parking spot and vanishes down into the darkness. I feel the magnitude of Mackenzie’s relief and decide not to say anything else.

“Thank you,” she says softly and I salute her with my glass.

“All’s well that ends well,” I say lightly.

Mackenzie sips and smiles, her gaze locked on me. I look out the window because I have no way to ask about her availability.

“Careful, Jake,” she says softly. “Your cover’s slipping.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re being nice.”

“I’m being the bear.” It’s a feeble joke, but she smiles a little.

“You’re not being an asshole and there are witnesses.” Her eyes widen in mock-horror, as if she’s uttered a secret out loud. I manage to hide my own response, I think. To my relief, she lets it go. “Where are you staying? I didn’t see a booking at the rental.”

“At the house.” I roll my eyes. “We have an early start tomorrow so I thought it would be simpler.”

“And a trip down memory lane.”