CHAPTER 17
MACKENNA
I had officially thrown in the towel on thinking I could get Jimmy to go away.
It didn’t matter if I was grumpy or annoyingly cheerful. Whether I was slinging insults his way or drunkenly throwing myself at him.
He seemed to enjoy all of it.
I was completely baffled.
And if I was being honest, I enjoyed his company, too.
It also didn’t hurt that his protective side was sexy as hell. He was totally hovering and I couldn’t even argue with him about it because, as much as I hated relying on someone, I felt safe when Jimmy was around.
It’d been a long time since I let someone be there for me. And right now, I needed him.
This morning, waking up to the sound of Jimmy’s strong heartbeat had been one of the best things ever until I realized I’d attached myself to him like a leech. That was embarrassing.
He was the only person I’d ever done that to. I’d shared a bed with my sister countless times throughout our lives and never attacked her like that. Usually I liked my own space when I slept, but for some reason I was drawn to Jimmy.
All day long, he’d been sending concerned text messages, and from the last one I knew he should be here any minute.
I rarely put makeup on. Most days I didn’t even brush my hair.
Now I found myself running back and forth from my bedroom to the bathroom, trying to find all the girly supplies I hadn’t unpacked yet.
“Aha!” I let out a triumphant shout when I found my makeup bag in the cardboard box labeled ‘not important’.
Dumping all the contents onto the granite countertop, I searched for my foundation, blush, and eyeliner. I probably didn’t have time to do the works, but something was better than nothing.
I glanced at myself in the mirror over the sink and noticed a pink tinge on my cheeks. I wasn’t sure if it was from excitement or the sun exposure while painting, but it looked good.
I threw the blush back into the bag and got the bronzer instead. After I was satisfied with the half-assed job I did on my face, I ran my fingers through my hair. I debated whether I should change my clothes. In the end, I decided to stick with the leggings because Jimmy seemed to like them.
After trading my oversized T-shirt for a fitted black tank top, I was ready for our date.
Was it a date? According to the conversation we had last night, it was.
If Jimmy really wanted to call it dating, then that was fine with me. The chance of me being interested in another guy was less than zero, so it wasn’t difficult to agree to those temporary terms. Surprisingly, I felt immense relief at knowing he wouldn’t be with anyone else either.
As I sat in my comfy chair and waited, the sound of the ticking clock on the mantel only fueled my anxiousness. My face felt hot, and my hands were cold and clammy.
When that soft knock came at my door, a foreign kind of giddiness buzzed through my body.
I peered through the peep hole. Jimmy was there, looking every bit the part of hot mechanic. His unzipped coveralls hung around his waist, exposing the black T-shirt he wore underneath. I admired the way it hugged his arms and chest just right.
I may have been intimidated by his tattoos at first, but that wasn’t the case at all now. He owned those tattoos. He was meant to have that ink on his body.
“Mack? You okay?” Jimmy’s muffled voice came through the door, and I realized I’d just been standing there ogling him through the peep hole.
Like a complete psycho.
Awesome.
After letting him in, I turned toward the living room and he followed.
“I came straight here,” he said, gesturing to the grease staining his clothes. “Sorry I’m so dirty. Just wanted to check on you first.”
There was a smudge on his forehead. Before I could second-guess what I was doing, I reached up and wiped it away with my thumb until the mark was gone. He smelled like sweat, motor oil, and sunshine. He smelled like a man. A hard-working man. And it was wonderful.
Grabbing a hold of his forearm, I tugged him down onto the couch with me.
He sat stiffly, holding his arms away from the leather. “I’m gonna get your couch dirty.”
“I don’t care,” I responded, not at all bothered by the mess.
“If you say so.” Shrugging, he relaxed into the cushions.
Curious about how his first day went, I asked him what he’d done and how he liked it.
Jimmy’s face lit up, and his hands slashed animatedly through the air as he told me about different types of oil and other things he learned on the job. I never knew someone could be so excited about car parts, but seeing him so fired up made those butterflies come alive again, ricocheting inside my abdomen.
“What?” he stopped mid-sentence when he was saying something about tires. “Why are you smiling like that?”
Bringing my hand up to my face, I realized I was grinning like a loon for no reason.
“I just—” I tried to think of how to explain it. “—you’re so happy. I guess it’s just contagious?”
Reflecting my smile, Jimmy brought his forehead to mine and brushed my cheek with his thumb.
“So, what are we going to do today?” I asked as sudden nervousness hit me. I had no idea how to do this. With no wall of liquid courage to hide behind, the brave, horny girl from last night was gone.
Would we jump right into ripping each other’s clothes off? Would there be foreplay? Most importantly, would I freak out or would I be able to keep my shit together?
My heart sped up at the thought of feeling all his tattoos. And the nipple piercings. And his lips on mine.
Equal parts anxiety and desire battled it out as I waited for his answer.
“Hold hands,” Jimmy replied.
Narrowing my eyes, I tried to figure out if he was serious. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” He leaned back. “We’re gonna sit on this couch, watch a movie, and hold hands.”
“That’s it?” I asked, relief and disappointment simultaneously flooding my system.
Nodding, he held out his hand and I gave him mine. Linking our fingers, he pressed our palms together and my heart did that fluttery thing again.
I looked down at our hands, admiring the contrast. His were darker, rougher. I could tell he’d attempted to wash off the grease from the shop, but some remained in the crevices of his skin and under his fingernails. Something about it was incredibly sexy.
He rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “You didn’t get to do this stuff, did you?”
“What stuff?”
“The innocent stuff,” he said. “The things you do when you’re not thinking about sex, when you’re just happy to be on a date sitting next to someone you like.”
I swallowed hard. The truth of his statement hit home, because that was a necessary step I’d been forced to skip.
Giving him a small smile, I nodded. “That sounds really nice, actually.”
“But first, I need a shower.” He leaned in close and pressed a kiss to my scar, just like he did last night.
Before I could read too much into it, he was walking toward the door, telling me to lock it behind him.
Jimmy had only been gone for ten minutes when he came back wearing black, low-sitting sweatpants and a plain gray T-shirt. The dark, damp hair on his head was in disarray, like he’d simply scrubbed a towel over it.
Sticking to his word, he held my hand all evening. It wasn’t boring, though.
I had no idea there were so many different types of hand-holding.
Sometimes he brushed the inside of my wrist with his thumb. Other times he idly played with my fingers while we watched the movies he borrowed from Beverly. He earned big brownie points when he massaged my palms, applying the right amount of pressure over every inch of my hands and fingers, soothing the stiffness from hours of playing guitar.
And when my palm ended up sweaty from nerves and constant contact, I shyly wiped it off on my leggings while muttering an apology. Jimmy just laughed before slinging an arm around me. Then he twirled my hair around his finger for a good twenty minutes.
He managed to touch me at all times, while keeping it completely innocent.
It was thrilling and new.
By the time we made it into my bed—for sleep only—my body was a jittery mess of hormones. The place between my thighs was wet, hot, and achy.
I’d never been more turned on in my life.
Who knew hand-holding could be such amazing foreplay?