MACK

 

The first thing Mack knew was that he wanted her.

Whoever the woman with the sweetly curved ass currently pawing through the refrigerator was, he wanted her. Which made no damn sense because one, he didn’t know her from Adam and two, he didn’t go for that shit anymore.

He’d made it his business a long time ago not to want anybody ever again. Some people in this world were shit. They were born shit, and they’d die shit. He was one of those people. It had taken him a long time to accept it. He’d even tried going to college and pretending to be something other than he was. Lasted a whole four months. ‘Cause fuck it. Truth was truth.

He tried not to spread his shit around too much. Kept to himself.

So wanting someone, anyone, but especially the owner of that particular sweet ass was a problem.

Then again, maybe this was just a dream. Maybe he was still upstairs, face down on his bed.

His sleep had been restless all week. It got like that sometimes. Too many ghosts came out at night. You didn’t spend eight years in lock-up without getting jumpy when the lights went out.

He’d come down to the kitchen to do what he always did when he couldn’t sleep. He plotted. He went through, step by step, his plan to take revenge when the time was right.

“Well hello, gorgeous,” he said, still half-convinced he was talking to a dream.

The way she squealed and jumped about a foot in the air sure seemed fucking real, though.

Shit. Mack hadn’t meant to scare her. He sat back in his chair at the little table near the bay window and held up his hands.

She gasped and spun around.

Mack expected her to recoil once she saw him. Covered in tattoos from his neck to his wrists, he knew he could be an intimidating bastard. That was generally the point—but never when it came to women.

Her body relaxed when she saw him though and she let out a shaky laugh. “I didn’t see you.”

“Sorry,” Mack said, still eyeing her up and down and waiting for her to flinch away from his gaze.

Instead she let the refrigerator door fall shut and she walked toward him, hand extended. “Hi there, I’m Cal. I’ve seen you around but I guess we’ve never officially met.”

Chicks usually reacted to him one of two ways. Either they took one look at his tattoos and reacted like he was about to steal their shit and murder them. Or they saw him and thought sex. Couldn’t say he minded either reaction, generally.

But Calla didn’t flash him a smile or flip her hair or any of the other shit women of the second persuasion usually did. She just looked friendly, hand still held out.

Mack stared for a moment, then took her hand and gave it a shake. What was her deal? “Mack.”

“Good to meet ya, Mack.” Then she tilted her head and stared at him more intently. “So, you regularly sit in dark rooms ready to scare the bejesus out of people?”

He cracked a smile at that. She was cute. He held up his empty glass. “A glass of milk helps me sleep sometimes.”

“Milk?” The edge of her mouth quirked up.

He shrugged. “Ran out of tequila.”

She shook her head, the slight smile still in place. “Well good luck with that.”

Then she turned back to the fridge and resumed hunting for whatever it was she’d been after in the first place. He watched her as she pulled out a plate that had aluminum foil covering it with a little post-it.

For Calla ONLY. He’d seen it earlier when he got his milk and smirked because Mel and everybody else knew that anything in the fridge was fair game unless marked. Which meant most the time the fridge was running on empty except right after the weekly groceries. Having six grown men on the property would do that.

Calla didn’t look at him again as she pulled off the foil and then went over to the microwave, popping in the plate of meatloaf, potatoes and beans. It took her a couple tries to figure out the settings, but soon it was whirring and lit up as it reheated her food. She kept her body toward the counter, back to him.

Was she just pretending to ignore him? If there was one thing Mack could say about himself, it was that he provoked reaction in people. It was a little disconcerting to have her be so oblivious to him.

Unless it was an act. Chicks did that sometimes. At least the ones that were trying to play it cool.

Curious, he stood up, grabbing his milk glass and taking it to the sink. His path led him right by her.

She glanced his way and gave him a polite nod but then went back to watching her food cook.

All right, either this woman was the best actress he’d ever met or she genuinely didn’t give a damn if he was there or not.

He should have walked away right then. Man he was, plans he had, he should have given her the silent treatment he did everyone else and forgot her existence. Forgot how her apple-bottomed ass had looked when she bent over to look in the fridge. He shoulda forgot how her clear, pale skin and moon eyes had looked at him so huge and innocent as she held out her hand to him.

But Mack was shit. Always had been and always would be. And if there was one truth about shit, it was that shit liked to stick. To dirty up clean things. To befoul them.

A thought which again, shoulda had him running the other direction.

One problem kept popping up in the way of sane, rational thought, though.

He wanted her.

He’d been feeling restless lately. He’d come out to this little patch of nowhere to kill time until… well, until he did what needed doing.

He thought he’d come out here and pass a few years under the radar. Wait it out.

It shoulda been enough just to live. To be a free man living in the world. When he first came to the ranch a couple years ago, just getting away from all the shit back in Jersey had been enough. He could go hang out with the horses when he got sick of people. The manual labor of the ranch was usually enough to clear his mind. He liked working with his hands.

It had been peaceful. Sort of. Until night came anyway. Then his hands were still and there was nothing to do except think.

Like tonight. He’d jolted awake with his fists clenched and his heart racing. Bone’s goddamned voice ringing in his head. When he looked at the clock, he saw he’d barely been asleep for half an hour.

Losing himself in a woman could be just what he needed. Right after he got out, he’d fucked any woman that gave him half a glance. You didn’t go without pussy for that long and not want to drown yourself cock-deep for a few weeks.

He’d needed to prove to himself he was normal, maybe. So there, he’d proved he could screw a chick no problem. Meant he hadn’t been fucked up by all the shit that went down inside, right? Not permanently anyway.

But easy pussy got tiresome real quick. Plus, what did any of it mean except confirming he could still stick his cock in a hole, shut off his brain, and fuck till he came?

Great, his dick wasn’t broken.

That had never been the problem though, had it? It was his head that had gotten fucked ten ways from Sunday in that place.

He moved out here and hadn’t gone chasing tail since. His right hand worked just fine. Plans he had, he didn’t need any woman getting caught up in his shit. Even if he was tempted, the town was so small and insular, well, he knew better than to shit where he ate.

Hadn’t been a problem.

At least until now.

The woman said she’d seen him around and he wondered where the fuck she meant because surely, he would have noticed her.

He washed out his cup, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She had a square face and strong features for a woman. Sharp cheekbones and an angular jaw. Pale, pink lips. Her chin-length hair fell over one half of her face and she tucked it behind her ear before looking over at him.

“You’re staring,” she said bluntly.

Mack cracked a grin. She was interesting. Mack couldn’t remember the last time anything had interested him. “I am.” He continued staring.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s rude to stare.” The microwave beeped and she reached to pull the plate out but Mack beat her to the punch.

“Let me get that for you. Don’t want you to burn yourself on the plate. They’re ceramic. They get hot.”

He tagged a kitchen towel from the oven beside the sink and popped the microwave door. He had to lean into her side to do it. An intentional move. His chest brushed up against her side as he pulled the steaming plate from the microwave. He didn’t miss her quick intake of breath. So she wasn’t completely unaffected by him.

She kept her head down while he set the plate on the counter in front of her. He didn’t move away, though. He stayed right where he was, intruding on her personal space. It was a dick move but if she told him to back off, he wouldn’t push it.

The devil in him was too curious to see how she’d react.

She finally turned her face his way. Her eyes were a golden hazel and they flashed at him in a way that had his cock stirring to life.

“Am I in your way or something?” she asked. She started to slide to the left but Mack moved with her.

“No. You’re not in my way.”

She paused at his words, her head tilted toward him and her eyebrows furrowing like she was confused.

“I’m right where I mean to be,” he clarified. When she didn’t try to pull away again, he dropped his hands to the counter on either side of her, caging her in.

That got him another little breathy inhale as her eyes searched his. Fuck, but it made his balls tight when she did that.

“You are?” Her eyebrows went up slightly. Her surprise seemed genuine. Then her eyes dropped to his mouth.

“Fuck yes I am,” he all but growled. Her eyes flicked between his and then again to his mouth, like she couldn’t stop looking at it.

He was close enough he could smell the clean scent of soap on her skin. He would have known she’d just come from the shower even if her light brown hair hadn’t still been slightly damp. But it wasn’t any flowery shit. Just a crisp, clean smell. Her skin was tan and there was a scattering of freckles across her nose.

Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Mack couldn’t help his eyes tracing down her swanlike neck. Even in the shapeless T-shirt, he could see the outline of her pert little breasts, especially where the hard peaks of her nipples poked out. Was she just chilled? Or aroused?

Mack couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt such an instant, animal attraction. And it wasn’t just his cock responding to her. Even exchanging as few words as they had, he could tell she wouldn’t be just another easy lay. There was more to her. She seemed real.

Had it been long enough, finally? Could he go to bed with a woman without all that other bullshit interfering?

One of her hands shot up to lay flat on his chest, over his heart. Like she meant to push him away. But she didn’t put any pressure behind it. She just kept it there and the longer she did, the more it felt like a scorching iron of connection between them.

Mack couldn’t help shifting his pelvis forward and her eyes widened when she felt his hardness through his jeans against her stomach. But they didn’t widen in alarm. Instead, a flare of heat blazed.

That was the last straw. He was only a man for Christ’s sake. Mack lifted his right hand from the counter and he cupped her cheek. He wasn’t delicate about it either. He gripped her graceful jaw and traced his thumb over her bottom lip, tugging it down slightly. If he thought her little breathy noises from earlier were sexy, it was nothing to the way she gasped and leaned in to his touch at this. Jesus, she was responsive.

He’d just decided he needed to spend the next few hours exploring exactly how responsive when suddenly there was a racket outside the back door. Calla’s face swung that direction moments before the door was shoved open and that bloody fucking Irishman’s voice filled the kitchen.

“Not my fault I forgot me fecking keys at the bar. You’re the one who thought a drinking game was a good idea. If you thought I was going to lose to some pansy-arsed American, well I fecking showed ya!”

Liam staggered into the kitchen, followed up by the twins, Tweddle dee and Tweddle fucking dumb.

Before Mack knew it, Calla had jerked away from him and tugged at the bottom of her shirt as the voices quieted. His housemates might be drunk as skunks but they were all brought up short at the sight of the beautiful woman all but in Mack’s arms. A woman he’d been a hairsbreadth away from claiming for the night before these fucknuts stumbled in.

“Who’s that?” one of the twins asked at the same time Liam took a lunging step toward where he and Calla stood.

“Hey, it’s you.” Liam pointed a finger toward her face. “You really aren’t a dude. Huh. When’d you get so pretty?”

Calla had pulled away from Mack, but he still felt it the instant her back went ramrod straight. Her mouth dropped open and she looked horrified.

Mack’s fist was flying toward Liam’s face before he could even think it all the way through. He didn’t know exactly what the fuck the bastard was on about, but it was clear he’d upset Calla.

And Jesus but it was satisfying when his fist connected with Liam’s jaw. He barely registered Calla’s small shriek or the other guys shouting. All he knew was he’d wanted to punch the fucker from almost the moment he’d met him.

Rich bastard parading around, playing at being a cowboy when the rest of them were here to earn a living. It made Mack fucking sick. So when Liam’s head was knocked sideways and he stumbled backward a few steps before falling on his ass, Mack felt only the glow of gratification.

At least until he saw Calla shrink away from him, her hand to her mouth.

He didn’t have more than a moment to register it, though, because the next second Liam was back on his feet and lunging for him.

“Ya cocksucker!” he yelled, fist swinging.

Mack blocked the first blow but when Liam followed up with a mean jab to his ribs, Mack wasn’t fast enough.

And fuck but the bastard could fight, even when he was drunk off his ass. Mack barely had time to recover from the fist to his stomach before Liam swung again. He jerked back but Liam still clipped his jaw.

Which just fucking enraged him. You didn’t survive super max for almost a decade without knowing how to fight, and he couldn’t believe this pansy-assed motherfucker had actually gotten in two hits on him. He could count how many times that had ever happened on one hand. With a roar, he charged Liam and took the bastard to the ground.

Mack was just about to get a choke hold on him when a pissed off voice demanded, “What the fuck is going on here?”

Shit. The boss was here. But even that wasn’t enough to stop him from trying to get the upper hand on the little Irish shit. He almost had him pinned—

Suddenly a huge hand jerked Mack off Liam and tossed him onto his back. Mack scrambled to try to get at Liam until he finally registered a very pissed off Xavier Kent standing over him.

“You want to fucking explain what the fuck you’re doing fighting in my kitchen. I could hear you all the way from the stairwell.”

Mack blinked, the haze of rage starting to clear from his vision. He looked around. The twins had grabbed Liam’s arms and were holding him back. Calla stood behind the kitchen island, arms crossed over her chest, her features showing clear mortification.

“Well?” Xavier demanded, the mottled skin on the burned upper left of his face going all but white in his anger even while the other side reddened.

“Sorry boss,” Mack said, getting to his feet and looking at Xavier. “Won’t happen again.”

“Sure as fuck better not,” Xavier growled. “You two—” He pointed a finger at Liam, who was still on the floor although no longer being held back by Jeremiah and Reece. Next, he pointed at Mack. “—are on KP duty for the next four weeks. And I better not ever have to deal with this shit again.”

With that, the big man turned on his heel and was about to stalk from the room when he seemed to notice Calla.

“Cal.” When Xavier acknowledged her, his voice was still gruff but not angry. “Glad to see you made it here okay.”

She cringed, glancing between Mack and Liam. “Sorry for all this.”

She hadn’t been afraid of him when she’d first seen him but there was a wariness in her eyes now. Dammit. He was usually so good at hiding his monster. Out of all the times to lose it on Liam, it had to be tonight? In front of her? He’d just gotten so pissed when Liam had openly disrespected her. He clenched his jaw all over again just thinking about it.

Xavier shook his head, taking a second to glare over his shoulder at Mack and then Liam. “Not your fault these two are assholes who don’t know how to behave in front of a lady.”

Calla smirked. “No one’s ever accused me of being a lady before.”

Xavier shook his head, his hard face softening. “Well that just goes to show you,” he paused, glaring back at Mack and Liam, “if this little display didn’t already—what absolute fucking idiots the male population is. Get some sleep. Day starts early tomorrow.” He patted Calla on the shoulder and then pushed out through the door. She followed on his heels. A moment later, two pairs of footsteps, one heavy and one light, could be heard as they went up the stairs.

“Hey, who’s food is this?” Reece asked as he pulled his blond dreadlocks into a ponytail and stepped toward the counter. “I’m starving.”

Mack moved and snatched the plate off the counter before Reece could touch it. “Not yours,” Mack growled, turning and leaving the kitchen without another word.

He knocked lightly on Calla’s door once he got upstairs. It had to be hers. Isobel used to stay there but it had been empty since she’d gone to live with Hunter.

“You forgot your food,” he said through the door.

No response.

Shit. Like she was gonna open the door to an animal like him.

He took a step back. Why the fuck did he even care? He’d come to terms with what he was a long fucking time ago. He’d done what he had to in order to survive. Become what he was. He knew there was no going back.

The image of her sweet, open face and how innocently she’d extended her hand to shake his flashed through his head.

“I’ll just leave it outside your door.” He set the plate down and then stepped back

He ran his hands roughly through his hair, then whispered a sharp, “Fuck,” before striding down the hall to his own room and shutting the door firmly behind him.