Mackenzie
It wasn’t Mackenzie’s fault Blake brought out the bitchy side in her. She suffered through the next half hour as he patiently showed the gaggle of women how to properly use each piece of equipment and how each obstacle worked.
The Casey girl embarrassed herself at least nineteen times swooning over him. Sure, Blake had cheekbones only seen on models, and eyelashes to match, but just because his biceps bulged and his muscles in his back flexed through his thin gray T-shirt didn’t mean she had to fall at his every word.
His voice was pleasant enough, stern when issuing orders of safety, and his deep laugh erupted too many times to count. At least once for every one of the nineteen times Casey nearly tossed her underwear at him.
At first he’d used Mackenzie as his model. He pulled her to the Tarzan Rope she’d wanted to use before he forced himself in her space. He lifted her hand into his and she’d swear he caressed it in his warm, calloused palms before placing them on the rope. Those hands were on her once again, stroking her arms and her sides, and she did all she could not to breathe in sharply, as the gleam in his eye said so obviously he hoped she’d do.
Pretending his touch did not affect her, she sucked in her abs, clenched her butt, and stayed perfectly still until he told her what to do. Blake continued to caress her arms and sides as he talked to the girls, who were too caught up in his sexiness to notice what his hands were doing.
When he finally let her cross, she couldn’t help but pray she wouldn’t fall. Not that it was a long way down; it was more for bragging rights. She made it to the second to last rope before her arms gave out and she plummeted to the foam pit below.
At first she was afraid Blake would come around and offer a hand, and when he walked past her on to the next obstacle she bit back a curse and pulled herself out of the pit.
Off to the right, Rachael and Lucy were shouting loudly at Maggie and Sage, who were racing up the rock wall.
“You’ll get your chance, Mack. First let’s learn the basics. Did you hear what I said about the warped wall? It’s all in the legs.” Blake dropped his gaze to her legs and she suddenly wished she was wearing more than the skimpy Nike spandex shorts and fitted tank top.
“It’s Mackenzie. And I can manage.”
It took her five tries before she finally gave up. None of the other girls made it up either. Tanya begged Blake to show them how it was done and he so willingly obliged, his long legs kicking him up the wall in less than a second. The pathetic women cheered and he kissed his bicep and pointed to his adoring fans, not before tossing out a wink.
“Oh. My. God.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes in disgust and ditched her group to find her friends.
“Hey Kenzie. Ready to join us? We’re going over the bridge walk next.” Maggie blotted her forehead with a towel and draped it over her shoulder.
“Sure. If Napoleon lets me.”
“I may not be Andre the Giant like Colton,” Blake said behind her, “but I ain’t no four--foot-nothing prick.”
“Huh.” Mackenzie looked away before the caramel eyes had her in a trance again.
“Are you two not getting along?” Maggie tossed her towel aside and stretched her arms above her head.
“He’s slow and boring. I want to join your group. I like Colton better.”
“Cupcake, the only thing slow about me is the way I make love. Although I’ve been known to mix things up when the woman wants it fast,” he purred in her ear before walking away.
“What did he just say?” Maggie glanced between Blake’s retreating back and Mackenzie’s face. “You never blush. Is there something going on—”
“No. He’s a pig and likes to say really inappropriate things. I can’t believe he’s a Riley. Doreen must be saddened he didn’t turn out as nice as the others.”
Maggie snorted and looped her arm in Mackenzie’s. “I think he has a crush on you.”
“What? Are we in high school now?”
They headed over to the bridge jump and Mackenzie watched her friends go first, listening to Colton as he talked them through each step.
“The object of this one,” he said to her, “is to run across the five swings as fast as you can while maintaining your balance. Every time you touch a step the rope swings. Agility. You’ve got it.”
One by one the girls fell—all but Sage, who was too dignified and poised to ever mess anything up—and then it was Mackenzie’s turn. Her friends cheered her on as she sucked in a breath and studied the bridge. “One, two, three,” she counted in her head and made a run for it.
That was the last thing she remembered before the world turned black.
***
“I’m going to kiss you in front of everyone if you don’t wake up,” Blake whispered dangerously close to her lips.
Mackenzie’s eyes shot open and she looked up into the familiar swirls of caramel and a bright, cheesy, fishhook grin. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Sleeping Beauty is awake,” Blake hollered over his shoulder.
A loud applause erupted behind her and she tried to crane her neck to see, wincing when a sharp pain shot through her back, and the room spun around her.
“Easy, Mack. Don’t move until I check you over.”
“Not with a ten-foot pole.”
Blake’s easy laugh did uneasy things to her belly. His gaze turned from amused to all business as he glided his hands across her shoulders, gently massaging her neck.
“Does that hurt?”
“Just my pride.”
“I can help you get that back.”
“Please.” Mackenzie rolled her eyes and he chuckled.
“Can you wiggle your fingers?”
“What am I, four?”
“How about your toes? Or do you want me to massage those for you, to see if you have any feeling in them?”
“Don’t touch my feet.”
“Ticklish?”
“No.”
“I bet.” When Blake finished his assessment, he tucked his arm under her shoulder and gently brought her to sitting. “Don’t move your head too fast. You knocked yourself out, but I don’t think you did any permanent damage. How many fingers am I holding up?” He held up two.
“Five.”
“What day is it?”
“Halloween.”
“What’s my name?”
“Pain in the ass.”
“You look and feel perfect to me.” Blake kept his hand on her shoulder and she shrugged it off. He laughed at her mood and then helped her to her feet. “Don’t be afraid to call me later if you need mouth-to-mouth.”
“I think Casey and her gaggle of girls will need it before me.”
“Jealous?”
“As if.”
Mackenzie turned her back on him and took a step toward Maggie. The room had stopped spinning, but she felt like she went on an all-night binge the night before.
“Kenzie, you scared us. Come sit until you regain your balance.” Maggie led them to a bench and Rachael brought over a bottle of water.
“You guys go play. You’re making me self-conscious hovering around like you’re waiting for me to collapse again. Show’s over.”
“You sound like Sage,” Lucy said. Sage had been good for Lucy. Rough around the edges, those two, but somehow they worked together like sandpaper, softening each other with time.
“Shut it, twerp.
“See what I mean?”
“Let’s give her some space.” Rachael pulled them away by their shirts. “We’re going to try the warped wall. It will give you some comic relief.”
“I’m good, Mags. You can go, too.”
“No way. You’re my out. My body isn’t cut out for this kind of torture. I popped out a baby three months ago and haven’t done any exercise other than…” Maggie grinned and blushed.
“Oh good lord. You Rileys have sex on the mind twenty-four-seven.”
When nine o’clock rolled around everyone was sweaty and energized, except for Mackenzie. She had a pounding headache and was thankful Maggie drove.
“How are you feeling?” Instead of eyes that stripped her naked, Blake’s concerned expression had her lowering her defenses.
“Like I have a hangover but don’t remember any of the fun I had last night.”
Blake opened his mouth, an obvious dirty retort on his lips, and closed it again, nodding and smirking, his belly shaking with laughter.
“Do you always? No, don’t answer that.” Mackenzie bit back her smile.
“Do I always what?”
“Never mind. Thanks for tonight. The girls had a lot of fun.”
“And you?”
“I’ve had better nights.”
“Like the ones you can remember that don’t lead to a hangover.”
“Something like that.”
“Good to know.” Blake clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers to his forehead in a salute before walking away, whistling as he picked up mats, moving them back in place.
“He was so checking out your ass,” Sage said as she walked by.
“Gross. That’s my brother,” Lucy grumbled.
“Wanna know what your oldest brother does to me—”
“Stop! My ears!” Lucy covered her head and ran out the door.
“I’m with Luce. I don’t want to hear it. But if you do hook up with Blake, I’d be totally happy.” Rachael gave Mackenzie a quick hug and scooted outside.
“Book an appointment with Maggie, ‘cause you’re all nuts,” Mackenzie called to their retreating backs.
***
Blake
Blake cracked the bathroom window, the steam from his shower making a fast getaway into the cool morning air, and did a quick dry of his hair before wrapping the towel around his waist. Coming home to Rocky Harbor wasn’t as bad as he’d expected it to be.
For the past six years he’d been a nomad, pitching a tent at a worksite or staying in a cheap hotel outside of town while designing and building obstacle courses. He’d moved his way up from sidekick carpenter to design team member to project manager. It was a dream job, working outside with his hands, socializing, having a beer after work—or hell, at work—with his friends, traveling, meeting new people.
It was exactly what he needed to figure out what he wanted in life. While his brothers and sisters always had some sort of career plan or direction or hobby, Blake had nothing. Good times, that’s what he was interested in. And now he had it.
Coming home was a good decision. He still had all of the above, and got to work side-by-side with his obstinate brother to boot.
Blake picked up his shaving cream and lathered it on his face. Studying his reflection in the mirror, he panicked when he noticed a light streak in his hair.
Not a gray hair. He was only thirty.
“Shit.” Blake moved closer to the mirror, studying the out-of-place hair, and tugged at it. The strand didn’t pull at his scalp and his hand moved away easily. Odd. A long, light-colored strand of hair. Obviously not his. Blake thought back to the last woman who shared his bed.
And came up with nothing. He hadn’t had a sleepover or a shower mate in a hell of a long time. Too long. So where did the hair come from? Blake unwrapped the dark blue towel around his waist and looked it over for more strays.
Nothing. Baffled, he chucked it to the floor and scraped the razor through the thick foam on his face. His Spidey senses still tickled the back of his neck.
Before Melinda Snyder’s death—he’d never think of her as his mother—she could sniff out money anywhere. That and a few other things. It was after her fourth child by a fourth stranger that she quit selling her body and turned to drugs full-time.
Cody and Dawn were toddlers and Blake and Alyssa barely able to see out the window on the big yellow bus on their way to elementary school when Melinda started dealing cocaine out of their kitchen. When Alyssa turned ten and got caught snorting a line from their mother’s stash, Melinda moved her drug trafficking off-site, but it didn’t stop Alyssa from following in their mother’s footsteps.
It didn’t take long before they both got busted and the four kids ended up in foster care. Two separate homes, one for the girls and one for the boys. At twelve years old Alyssa wasn’t much of a big sister to Dawn, caring more about her next fix. Blake hadn’t been in contact with his sisters during their first year in care, but had heard through the grapevine that the family kicked Alyssa out after she refused to cooperate with her therapists.
He and Cody tried to fly under the radar, but with their mother showing up on their doorstep high as a kite, begging the Johnsons and then the Parkers and the Lisbons for a few bucks so she could eat dinner—as if—Cody and Blake would get booted again. No one wanted to deal with his mother’s constant harassing. And not even a restraining order could keep her away.
Blake never slept well, the johns coming in and out of their trailer all night long not even attempting to be quiet, and he’d often be the first one to hear his mother slithering around his foster home at night. He’d slip out of bed and tell her to go away, that the Johnsons didn’t have any money. The Parkers, however, were well-off and he’d slipped an occasional twenty from Mrs. Parker’s purse for his mother. Anything to keep her away. He was too young to realize giving her money was what kept her coming back.
After he got caught stealing, he and Cody got kicked out of yet another home. Blake tried not to give his new foster parents a hard time, and made light of the situation, cracking jokes to ease the tension. He turned into the class clown in school, anything to avoid the troubles at home, while his brother was the quiet one. Not many wanted to take in a child who didn’t talk. Blake couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard his brother say a word.
When he was nine and Cody was five, maybe?
The Snyder kids had never been close, each alone and unique. Alyssa with her drug problem, Cody with his mutism, and Dawn too young and innocent to know how evil their mother really was.
Two days before Blake’s twelfth birthday, Cody went missing. The Lisbons, who were the foster family of the month, believed Melinda came and took him in the middle of the night.
After months of news coverage, police investigations, and therapy sessions, Blake finally found himself in the Riley house. At that point he didn’t care where his siblings were. They were all messed up. He was glad to live in a new town with two normal parents who seemed to love him and not care about the trash he came from.
Rocky Harbor was a good four hours from Fox Hollow, a small town outside the more well-known small town of Rangley. Known for its snowmobile trails in the winter and camping in the summer, there wasn’t much to do in the redneck county where he’d grown up. The distance of Rocky Harbor gave Blake the opportunity to reinvent himself. To pretend his mother and brother and sisters didn’t exist. To expel his baggage and be the cool funny guy his friends thought of him before the news coverage.
It had been nearly a decade since he’d learned of Melinda’s death and twenty years since he’d seen any of the Snyders. He had no desire to ever see Alyssa again. She was too much like her mother. He did think about his younger siblings, though. Had Cody ever been found? Would he even recognize Dawn if he passed her on the street? Probably not.
Blake splashed water on his face, removing any residue from his shaving cream, and crossed the hall to his bedroom, naked. Rummaging through the pile of clean laundry on top of his dresser, he found a pair of black boxer briefs and tugged them on, followed by a pair of khaki shorts.
Living out of a tent and a duffle bag for so long, he’d gotten out of the habit of putting his clothes away. Doreen would not be impressed if she stopped by for a surprise visit. Not wanting to piss his mother off, he folded the pile of clean laundry and put his clothes away in their respective drawers.
The Rileys instilled in him a sense of family. However, when he thought of family it wasn’t Melinda Snyder or his half-brothers and sister. It was the Rileys.
Luke would always be the caretaker, the sounding board. Colton may be massive and scary looking, but Blake knew he’d have his back in a heartbeat. A man of little words, similar to Cody, and loyal to the core.
Blake and Graham should have butted heads more often, both competing to be the funniest guy, but instead they played off each other. Separated by six years, their circles of friends and girlfriends were different enough to avoid sibling rivalry. Being the youngest of the boys didn’t bother Blake; he liked having three brothers to look up to and Rachael was only a few years younger than him. She and her girlfriends always tried hanging out with him and his buddies.
While he didn’t like having his little sister around all the time, she did have some pretty hot friends.
And then came Lucy. He felt bad for his youngest sister. The boys had all moved out by the time she was adopted, so they never formed a tight brother-sister bond. More of a friendly cousin relationship. Granted, she was a hard nut to crack when she first crossed the Riley threshold. She’d mellowed over the past few years. Gone was the sullen attitude. When she first arrived, however, she looked and breathed Trouble with a capital T.
Just like Melinda. There were signs of her all around, and if she weren’t dead, he’d swear she’d been in his place.
The past few weeks he’d woken in the middle of the night to sounds outside the house. His bedroom window was just high enough that an intruder would need a ladder to climb in, but could jump out without seriously injuring himself.
Or herself.
Last month he’d gotten home late after an unsuccessful date and saw the screen to the lower level window had come loose. He’d fixed it in the morning and noticed scratches and dents on the window frame, as if someone had tried to jimmy it open.
Then, a few weeks ago, he took out his wallet to pay for drinks for yet another unsuccessful hook-up and had to use his credit card because the cash he thought he had was gone. Blake was known for buying a pretty lady a drink or two, so he chalked up the empty wallet as another failed attempt to seduce a woman he barely remembered.
No, the seducing worked. He just wasn’t interested in the women he’d encountered at bars or at the gym.
Well, maybe one. Blake riffled through his newly folded shirts wondering if his clothes had been a victim to invasion as well, and put on the least wrinkled one he could find, a black dry-fit T that had his obstacle course logo on it, ‘Mud on the Rocks.’
As long as the gym and the course were going well, and his family was happy, he’d ignore the stupid little oddities happening around him.
Colton had opening duties this morning at Rock the Gym and Blake planned on spending his extra hours before he had to report for duty enjoying the scenery at the coffee shop downtown.
Fifteen minutes later, Blake parked his Chevy outside Coast & Roast. There weren’t many spaces to park along Main Street and he felt a tad guilty for taking one up with his truck. He kept the windows cracked and hopped out. The shop’s doors were open, a chalkboard sign on the sidewalk advertising today’s specials: coffee and whoopee pies. Go figure.
Blake glanced around, looking for Mackenzie, and didn’t see her. Bummed, he ordered an iced coffee and waited while the girl behind the counter made his drink.
“The owner around?” he casually asked.
“Mackenzie? Yeah. She’s in the back talking with Rachael. She made whoopee pies since Kenzie wasn’t feeling well enough to make her famous brownies.”
Blake stood straighter, tension in his shoulders. “She okay? Does she need anything?”
“Oh, she’s fine. I guess she had a late night. You know how she is,” the woman—Brandy, according to her nametag—said with a laugh. “Nothing will keep her down.” Brandy handed him his beverage and he gave her a five, shaking off the change.
Unfortunately, he didn’t know how the gorgeous coffee shop owner was. And then he heard her before he saw her. Mackenzie’s voice had a softer edge to it this morning, and Rachael followed with concern.
“Go back upstairs and take it easy. Brandy and I can hold down the fort for a few hours.”
“I’m fine. Stop meddling or I’ll fire you.”
“As if. At least sit down and relax while business is slow. There isn’t anyone here right now anyway. Oh.” Rachael stopped short after she and Mackenzie rounded the corner. “Hey, Blake. Perfect timing. I’m trying to get Mackenzie to relax. Do you have a minute to sit down with her? She’s not going to hang out alone.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Absolutely. Here. Let me help.” Blake set his iced coffee back on the counter and put his arm around Mackenzie’s shoulder, which she quickly shrugged off.
“I’m not an invalid. You Rileys are as annoying as ticks. You’re sucking the life out of me. Go.”
Blake ignored her and gently pushed her toward a brown leather couch. He’d been in Coast & Roast a few times before, mostly to check out the owner, and paid little attention to the surroundings. It had a feel similar to that coffee shop in Friends. Only more inviting and homey. Part of the space was decorated in coffee artwork and quotes, while the back half resembled more of a beach with starfish and seashell stuff on the walls.
“I’m getting up as soon as the next customer walks through the door.”
“What’s wrong with her?” Blake asked Rachael.
“Other than her bad attitude? Headache. Migraine.”
“From her fall last night?”
“I’m right here. There’s no need talk about me as if I’m not in the room.”
Rachael stroked Mackenzie’s shoulders. “A little bit of everything. I told her to rest but she won’t. Maybe a walk in the fresh air? She doesn’t like to sit still.”
“No she doesn’t.” Mackenzie stood, wincing and brushing off Rachael’s hand.
“We’ll go for a walk then.” Blake kissed Rachael on the cheek, grabbed Mackenzie’s hand, and led her out the door.
“This is kidnapping.”
“Feel free to scream for help.”
“I can’t. It hurts too much.”
When they were outside, Blake stopped and faced Mackenzie, cupping her face in his palms and looking in her eyes. “If this is from your fall last night, we need to get you checked out.”
“It’s not. Let’s walk.” Mackenzie surprised him by not pulling her hand away from his as she led him down the sidewalk and toward path to the shore.
Her skin was soft and feminine, yet strong and warm. Hands that worked hard and deserved to be cared for. Doted on. More than her hands, her whole body, and not just in the sexual way.
There was an inner and outer strength that the woman carried with pride. Blake wasn’t one for deep introspection on a prospective date, but couldn’t help studying the fine specimen tugging on his hand.
Her long legs glided across the path. Stopping at the sand dunes, she bent over, releasing his hand to remove her socks and sneakers. An intricate tattoo decorated the top of her foot—a flower, purple, that was all he could tell. Blake knew how to pick out a bouquet for a woman but he didn’t know a rose from a daisy. Her toes were painted a cheerful orange and stood out bright against the pale sand.
Tattoos on women weren’t normally his thing, but seeing Mackenzie’s delicate foot decorated so artfully revealed another layer he’d hoped to peel off the sassy brunette. From his experience, every tattoo held a story, a special meaning, and he wanted to hear hers.
“Any better?” Blake toed off his sneakers and tossed them by a rock, then did the same with hers before reaching out for her hand. She studied him for a moment and sighed as if in defeat before clasping her hand in his. “I don’t have cooties, you know.”
“Just because I’m letting you hold my hand doesn’t mean you’re getting laid.”
“And here everyone’s been saying I was the one with the big mouth.”
“I know your type, Riley.”
“Oh yeah? Do tell. I haven’t figured out which boy’s club I should join. Tell me what you know.”
They walked along the beach, close enough to the water to feel the cool, packed sand under their feet, but not so close that they’d get wet. The Atlantic was still chilly in May.
“Pretty boys think they can get away with everything. Your charm has no effect on me.”
“So you think I’m charming?”
“I think you’re annoying.”
“Do you think I’m a good kisser?”
Mackenzie stopped in her tracks and ripped her hand from his. “That should have never happened. I didn’t ask you to kiss me.”
“Easy, Mack. It was a kiss. Not that big a deal,” he lied.
“Stop calling me Mack.”
“I like it.”
“I don’t.”
“It’s sexy and tough at the same time.”
“I’m neither of those things.”
Blake snorted. “Then let’s add stupid to the list.”
“Hey.” She swatted his arm and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his chest.
He’d shocked her, her eyes darkening, her arm falling limp under his touch. She didn’t have to tilt her head too much to look into his eyes and he watched her expression change from surprised to turned on, to pissed off.
“Let me go.”
Blake loosened his grip with his hand, but not with his gaze. That seemed to be the game they played together, a vicious circle. He needed to work on making the “turned on” segment last a bit longer.
Mackenzie opened her mouth to read him the riot act, he assumed, but he cut her off. “How’s your headache?”
Her shoulders softened and she lowered her fighting stance. She avoided his gaze and stared out over the ocean. “Did you do that on purpose?”
“Do what?”
“Distract my headache away?”
“Did it work?”
She shrugged. That wasn’t his strategy but he’d take full credit if she wanted to give it to him. Hell, he was such a selfish bastard he’d forgotten why they’d come out to the beach in the first place. Her naked feet distracted him and he hadn’t once thought about the pain she’d been in.
“I’m serious about getting your head checked out.”
“First I’m stupid and now I’m a head case?”
“I figured that’s why Maggie stayed close to you. Friend therapy and all.”
“You’re an ass.” She laughed.
“Most women like my ass.”
Mackenzie bit her lip, trying unsuccessfully to hold back her grin. He liked their easy banter, even if she acted like she hated him most of the time.
“Seriously though, how are you feeling?”
“Better.” She tugged at her elastic and piles of dark hair came loose, cascading down her back. “The fresh air always helps.”
Oh, what he’d do to see her dressed in nothing but her tattoo and glorious mane of hair. Biting back his lust, Blake cleared his throat and looked away. “You get headaches a lot?”
“Not a lot. Often enough, though.”
“Caffeine withdrawals?” he joked.
“Something like that.” She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back into a ponytail again and wrapped her elastic around and around the thick mane. The top of her shirt lifted, revealing a strip of what promised to be sweet, soft skin. The fabric pulled tightly against her full, round breasts and he nearly swallowed his tongue.
Blake shoved his hands deep in his pockets and played with his keys so he wouldn’t frighten the poor woman by tackling her to the ground.
“Rachael get you into those funky shirts?”
“Hm?” She looked down at her chest and chuckled. “Great idea, by the way. Rach loves her shirts. They helped her through a rough patch.”
Rachael had always been the fun-loving obnoxious little sister until her dickhead ex-boyfriend trapped her in an abusive relationship, nearly destroying her physically and mentally. Blake had come to visit a few times, but couldn’t say he had a hand in helping her get back on her feet.
He’d sent her silly T-shirts that had baking or cooking quotes on them, hoping he’d bring a smile to her face for a few minutes. It was her husband Jake who deserved the credit now. And from what he heard, Maggie and Mackenzie were instrumental as well. Even Colton returned from combat to help her through. Granted, he didn’t want to return, but losing a leg didn’t give him the option. And his presence gave Rachael someone to fret about, distracting her from her own problems.
His brothers and sisters each started out with a crap life, were transformed with the love and support of Doreen and Keith Riley, and then all went their separate ways to make their mistakes, finally returning home once again to find complete happiness.
Blake was happy his siblings found their Hallmark card. Had he wanted the same life, he was sure he could find a woman to settle down with. Get himself a dog, find a couple of acres to build a home and call it good. Maybe even spit out a kid or two.
But he wasn’t looking. He didn’t want any woman caught up in his crap.
“Did you hear me?”
“What?” Blake shook off his foreboding mood and flashed a smile her way.
“You weren’t even listening. Typical male.”
“Sure I was. You were talking about Rachael.”
“And?” Mackenzie cocked her head and waited for him to elaborate. “Like I said. Typical. I asked you what your favorite shirt is.”
“Of Rachael’s?”
“That’s who we’re talking about.”
Right now his favorite was a cute little black shirt whose coffee cup was strategically placed over Mackenzie’s right boob, steam rising toward her neck. A neck he’d like to taste. He bet it’d taste like a deep roast with a hint of vanilla.
“Probably be ‘Bakers have great buns’.”
Mackenzie snorted. “I remember when she wore that shirt. Jake went wild and she took it off.”
“Easy now. She’s my sister. I don’t want to hear these things.”
“Not like that, idiot.” Mackenzie slapped his arm. “He didn’t like other men seeing her in that shirt and thinking about her ass. I remember him using a few choice words for you as well for giving that shirt to her.”
“Makes sense now why he took a bit longer to warm up to me. I mean, I’m a pretty easygoing guy. What’s not to like, right, Mack?” He liked how quickly he could distract her from whatever was laying heavy on her shoulders.
“I should get back to work.” They hadn’t walked too far down the coast and it didn’t take long to get back to their shoes. Mackenzie held on to his shoulder as she balanced on one foot to put on her socks and sneakers without getting sand in them.
“You could sit on my lap and it would be a lot easier.”
“Not likely.”
“Can’t blame a guy for trying.”