Speaking of Love Page 19

  Mac stared down at Rick, her mouth open. “You did what?”

  “Nothing,” Rick said, ranking his fingers through his hair. He leaned over to the guy. “That was supposed to be confidential,” he whispered. “Who is your source?”

  The guy smirked and scribbled something down. “That’s all I needed to know.”

  “Rick,” Mac said, “you sold one of your cars?”

  He was glaring at his fellow reporter, who was still writing. Rick shook his head, his mouth falling open as if he was about to protest further, maybe dash behind the first amendment shield. But then he exhaled and looked up at Mac. “I wanted to do something to help, if I could,” he explained. “Something that might make a difference.”

  Mac couldn’t help gasping in astonishment. “I think a twenty-thousand-dollar car will make a huge difference, Rick!”

  The reporter guy snickered. “Um, I think it’s worth a lot more than that.”

  Rick rounded on him. “You’re done here,” he said, stepping up to the guy. “Go.”

  “Sure thing,” the guy said, giving him a cheesy salute before spinning around.

  Rick watched him walk away then he turned back to Mackenzie. “Sorry about that,” he said, looking irritated.

  “No,” Mac said, reaching down and resting her hand on his shoulder. “Thank you. I know the Jag is a lot for you to give up. I’m really grateful.”

  Rick looked at her. “You’re welcome.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “I didn’t mean for you to find out. That’s not what it was about. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I’m nothing like my father.”

  “I know,” she said.

  “Look.” Rick stepped closer to the stage. “If you have time after this, can we get together? We never did finish that talk.”

  Mac stared down at him, a fresh wave of confusion filling her head. She removed her hand from his shoulder. “You’re not”—she tucked some hair behind her ears—“I mean, I assumed you’d be spending tonight with Brandy.”

  Rick frowned. “Why would you think…” But then he stopped. A moment later, he shook his head like he was remembering a private joke.

  “What?” Mac asked.

  “Nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just something Charlie said to me a little while ago. He’s wiser about this than we give him credit for, I think.”

  Now totally confused, Mac could only raise her eyebrows.

  “Mac,” Rick began again, “there is nothing going on between Brandy and me.” His voice was strong and clear, even with the roaring mob around them, as if he was making sure she could hear every word. “Nothing,” he added. “There never was.”

  She stared down at him. “You kissed her at the cabin.”

  “She kissed me, and I stopped it.”

  “I just saw you two,” Mac said, pointing in the direction to where she’d seen him with Brandy a few minutes ago.

  “That?” Rick actually chuckled. “No offense, Mac, because I know she’s your cousin, but what you saw there was me telling Brandy—again—that things are not going to work out between us. Ever.” He took a step toward her. “She’s not who I want to be with, Mackenzie, and I’ve known that for quite a while. So have you.”

  Mac felt her heart melt at his words. When she finally looked at him, she pulled back a tiny smile. “Really?” she asked, feeling legitimate hope for the first time since that plane ride home from the cabin. Feeling encouraged, she moved closer. Even while standing on the stage, she only had to tilt her head down a few inches to be at Rick’s level.

  “We promised each other that we could communicate better,” he said. He’d lowered his voice so that she had to lean even closer. Mac could smell his skin, that scent that was only Rick’s. “And I really need to communicate with you, Mackenzie,” he added. “Alone.” He dropped his voice again. “Right now. Please.”

  Mac felt a huge grin spread across her face.

  “Richard?”

  Mac knew who it was. Not just by the voice, but by the expression on Rick’s face. He cleared his throat once before turning around.

  “Hello, Dad,” Rick said. “I’m surprised to see you here.”

  “I didn’t think I had to come, but the shareholders…”

  Rick’s father was wearing a dark suit and dark overcoat. He did not look happy.

  Another wave of nerves filled Mac’s stomach, churning and swirling its way up her throat and to her vocal chords. Just seeing the man again, and remembering everything she’d wanted to say to him that night at the chamber dinner, was making her mentally speechless.

  Mac felt a hot jab of stress when Mr. Duffy turned his gaze to her. “Are you in charge of this demonstration?” he asked.

  Rick’s eyes went wide and it looked like he was about to say something. But whatever it was, he was not going to get the chance

  “I certainly am!” she exclaimed as she grabbed the mic, flipped it on, and jumped off the stage, landing right in front of Mr. Duffy.

  “So, you’re here to slum it with the commoners?” she said, chin tilted up to meet his eyes.

  There was a whooshing sound inside Mac’s ears, but she could also tell that the crowd that had been buzzing just one second ago had fallen silent, hearing her voice coming through the PA system.

  Everyone was looking her way.

  “Young woman,” Rick’s father said in a low voice, trying to stay away from the hot mic, “do you have any idea who I am?”

  Mac held the mic directly to her mouth. “I know exactly who you are, Mr. Duffy.”

  There was a new murmur spreading through the crowd now. She knew the town would remember him. Fifteen years wasn’t that long ago, especially after putting a few hundred of Franklin’s citizens out of work.

  Mac opened her mouth to continue along the same vein, completely prepared to rip Arthur Duffy a new one after everything he’d done to her and her family. But from out of nowhere, she had a moment of clarity.

  “Yes, I know who you are,” she repeated, making sure her temper was curbed before she spoke. “And there are a lot of things I could say to you right now. But I won’t, because my father taught me manners…which I use most of the time.”

  The crowd laughed in response. Mac could feel her earlier nervousness being replaced with fortitude and passion as she stood tall and straight. No more fear.

  “He also taught me the value of work and ethics and fighting for what I believe in no matter what or who is standing in my way!”

  “You tell ‘em!” someone yelled from the middle of the mass. Others echoed the sentiment.

  “Yeah!” Mac shouted right along with them, feeling a bit like Norma Ray. “And he taught me to not worry about what anyone else thinks,” she added, her voice growing firmer, “but to be honest and…and strong!”

  When the assembly cheered again, Mac had another idea. She spun an about-face, then froze, staring at the edge of the chest-high stage. Now was not the time to be short.

  A split-second later, she felt hands take her waist from behind. “I got it,” Rick said, as he boosted her up on the stage.

  She whispered a quick thank-you, then, without losing momentum, she took the mic in her right hand and began pacing the front of the stage.

  “Make no mistake, Mr. Duffy,” she continued, “you might think a gathering like this is pointless, but look around.” She made a sweeping motion with her hand. “These are the hard-working people of Franklin, the people who fight every day for this town, who believe in this park, and in beauty and taking pride in our community!”

  Over the whoops and cheers, she heard Mr. Duffy mutter under his breath, but she couldn’t hear what it was, and she didn’t care. Whatever he’d come to do or say to put a damper on this event, he sure as hell was not going to get the chance.

  Her eyes flickered to Rick. He was gazing up at her, wearing an unreadable expression. Did he look embarrassed at her public outburst or proud? Mac couldn’t think about that. She still had
a job to do.

  “We’re not going to let you or anyone take our most beautiful spot of nature,” she went on, doing a spin to point at the entire park. “This is the one place left on this side of town where we come to hear the birds sing, to play in the woods and walk our dogs.” She stopped spinning to point down at the man in the black overcoat. “Have you ever had a dog that you walked yourself, Mr. Duffy?”

  The throng laughed again while Mr. Duffy folded his arms, looking flustered and annoyed.

  “If you don’t stop and really look around,” Mac continued, “you might miss out on the wonders and beauties of life. I learned the hard way that it’s easy to overlook what brings joy into our lives…”

  Suddenly, Mac couldn’t fight back an image in her mind, the feeling of hands around her waist, and she couldn’t help but look down at Rick. Her throat was growing thick, causing her voice to fade to a more intimate level.

  “And it’s far too easy to overlook the one thing we can’t live without…” she continued, locking her eyes to Rick’s. “The thing we love most of all.”

  Feeling tears pricking behind her eyes, she turned back to the crowd. “So without further ado,” she said, voice firm again, “I’d like to turn the mic over to a few members of the future of Franklin!”

  As smoothly as possible, Mac passed off the mic to her student who was up to speak first and waved at the cheering crowd. She felt Rick’s eyes on her as she turned to walk toward the back of the stage. With one hand on her cheek to feel her flaming skin, she locked eyes with him once more and gave him a firm head jerk, hoping he would follow.

  He did.

  The nervousness of public speaking had long since passed, but that was nothing compared to the swirling she felt in her stomach now. What must Rick think? She had no idea what she was going to say to him, but she was more worried about what he would say to her.

  When she got to the far corner of the stage, she took a deep breath and turned to him. “Rick, I—”

  “That,” he cut her off, “was amazing.”

  She blinked and stared at him. The crowd was cheering again, so she came down the two metal stage steps, grabbed him by the sleeve, and led him a few feet toward the edge of the woods. It was less ear-splittingly loud, but not by much.

  From behind, Mac could hear cheers growing louder, but she could concentrate only on Rick and the pounding of her own heart.

  “You’re not…” she began, wringing her hand, “you’re not pissed off that I yelled at your father in front of three hundred people?”

  Just then, another burst of cheering exploded.

  “I’ve never wanted you more,” came his answer.

  Mac knew she must’ve heard wrong. “What? I can’t…”

  The next second, his arms were around her and her feet came off the ground. Face to face, Rick smiled. “I love you, Mackenzie Simms!” he practically shouted, touching his forehead to hers. “Did you hear me that time? I love you!”

  Without a thought or a word, Mac flung her arms around him, hooked her ankles behind his back, and buried her face in his neck.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered into his ear. “So very much.” She was sure he’d heard her because she felt her breath leaving in a rush as he hugged her tighter. It might have been Rick’s arms around her, or it might have been the relief of finally speaking those words, but Mac had never felt so completely happy in all her life.

  “I love you,” Rick repeated.

  When he kissed her, Mac felt the most wonderful sizzle of heat spreading through her chest, down to her stomach, wrapping around her core. They broke apart to breathe, and Rick moved from her lips to her neck. This did nothing to lessen the craving she’d felt earlier; if anything, it was skyrocketing. At least now, they could do something about it. Finally.

  Before Mac had satisfied even an ounce of hunger, Rick’s lips were gone and she was back on her feet.

  Fine. Good. Time to leave…

  “Come on. Where’s your car?” she asked, trying to drag him away. But Rick was holding her still by the shoulders.

  “You need to get back onstage,” he said. “You’re about to be on camera. Do you want them to find us like this?” Lowering his chin, he glanced at Mac’s hand sliding up the inside of his shirt.

  For a moment, Mac had no idea what he was talking about. Who would find them like this? And why should she care?

  Her hand froze.

  Oh! Lincoln Park. Speeches. The city council. Half of the population of Franklin. Jeez, her mother…

  She quickly removed her hand and pulled down his shirt, making sure her own clothes were in place.

  Rick laughed and eased her to his chest. “Still nervous?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

  “Not at all,” she said, pressing herself to him.

  Rick held the back of her head and kissed her again. “You’re the bravest, strongest person I know,” he said, placing a hand on her cheek. “And with the biggest, sexiest mouth,” he added, rubbing a thumb along her bottom lip.

  When Mac lifted up on her toes, she was suddenly spun around.

  “Now, let’s get that sexy mouth back to the stage so you can do your thing,” he said, his hand resting on the small of her back as they walked, just like he used to do when they would enter a ballroom together as they walked. Just like he would when they entered a ballroom together, and just like she knew he would at the next chamber dinner she would gladly attend with him.

  “I’ve got to interview some people,” Rick added as they neared the stage. “And then I have to take care of one more thing. Meet me over by the dog park when you’re all done.”

  Mac bit her lip and glanced toward the crowd. “I think it might be a while.”

  Rick pulled back a smile and stepped aside. “I’ll wait.”

  …

  Despite the late hour and chilly March air, parents and kids took to the swings and slides, and small pockets of rally-goers were still gathered near the pavilion. Thankfully, the news cameras were finally packing up their vans.

  Right after the city council’s impromptu vote was announced over the loudspeaker, Rick left Lincoln Park, but only for a few minutes. He was back before all of the outside lights had come on.

  He’d kept an eye on Mac as often as he could from where he was at the other side of the park, standing behind the chest-high chain link fence. He’d seen the cameras swoop in around her, microphones in her face. Someone had a portable radio and was blasting, “We are the Champions” on repeat until it was plugged into the sound system. The crowd was applauding and singing along. Some of the kids were dancing.

  It seemed like a lifetime later when Rick finally saw Mackenzie saying good-bye to Jack and Tess and then crossing the greenbelt.

  He waved and she veered in his direction, walking at a normal pace at first, until she did a little skip and actually broke into an almost-run. Rick laughed, moving through the gate to the outside of the chain link fence to greet her that much sooner.

  Without breaking stride, she was in his arms. Rick’s back hit the gate and Mac wrapped her legs around him, her soft lips pressing over his. He wrapped his arms under her, pushing her body up higher, while Mac wound her arms around his neck.

  “That took you…way too long over there,” Rick said, gasping for air.

  “Sorry,” Mac said, hovering over his mouth. “Just doing my job.”

  “Let’s quit our jobs and just do this,” Rick suggested.

  Mac laughed softly and Rick felt her breath on his skin. “Deal,” she whispered.

  “And congratulations.”

  “Thanks,” she said between kisses. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

  When he drew his mouth away from hers, the notch at her throat was right at his mouth level. Much too tempting. She moaned femininely. Rick was seeing stars.

  Just as Rick felt his arm about to buckle, Mac unhooked her ankles at his back and slowly slid down his body. She leaned in, her arms still ar
ound him, and exhaled a beautiful, luxurious sigh.

  “We’re pretty good at the public displays of affection today,” Rick said, keeping his arms around her. “We might actually get paid big bucks for doing this as a job.”

  Mac lifted her chin and looked around, as if she was taking in her surroundings for the first time.

  “Let’s go,” she said with a smile, running her fingers down his arm then clasping his hand.

  For a moment, Rick allowed himself to be led away from the fence, but then he pulled to a stop. “Hold on,” he said, keeping one hand on the closed gate beside them. “I can’t go with you yet.”

  “Why?” Mac frowned, then she seemed to notice something next to the fence. “Is that your carrier bag, Rick? And…what is that thing?”

  Rick picked up the long, blue plastic handle of the device in question, unlatched the top, splitting it in two, making an X.

  “I believe,” he said, “the scientific term is ‘pooper scooper.’”

  “What for?” Mac was glancing over his shoulder into the dog park.

  “I’m mining for gold,” Rick said and then chuckled. “What do you think it’s for? Poop.”

  “You’re out here picking up the poop of some random dog?”

  “No,” Rick said, fighting back a smile. “My dog.”

  “Your what?”

  “Or, dogs, I should say.” Rick walked through the gate, bent forward at the knees, and patted his thighs. “Come here, girls,” he said. “Come on.”

  He watched as Mac’s eyes bugged out when a pair of white and brown greyhounds trotted over to them on long, skinny legs. Grinning, Rick squatted down, running his hands over the dogs’ pointy, aerodynamic heads.

  “Did you know,” he said, “that retired racing greyhounds can suffer major depression if they live alone?” He looked up to find Mac shaking her head in stunned silence. “It’s true,” he continued. “I read about it when I was researching rescue shelters.” He had to pause when the dogs licked his face. “So, I decided to get two, so they wouldn’t be lonely.”

  “You adopted two retired racers?”

  “This is Madison,” Rick said, stoking the smaller of his two pets.