Speaking of Love Read online

  Chapter Eleven

  Mac couldn’t believe they were having this conversation. If there was a part of her brain that could stop it from happening, she couldn’t seem to find it. It was a subject she hadn’t broached with anyone but Tess. And the last time they had spoken about it was over two years ago.

  “Mac, what happened?” Rick asked.

  “Just like I said. We’d been going out for a year. I thought it was serious.” She rubbed her nose again. “He didn’t.”

  “Were you in love with him?”

  “Yes,” Mac said, blinking, her face feeling hot. She stared straight ahead at the dusty dashboard.

  “He left you?”

  She nodded.

  Rick sighed. “What an idiot.”

  Mac couldn’t help chuckling softly. “Thank you.”

  “I’m not saying that as a compliment,” Rick added. “It’s a simple fact.”

  “He was an idiot,” Mac agreed. “I thought he was going to propose to me on our anniversary and together we would run our own chapter of the Humane Society, and he thought it prudent to have me get all dressed up just so he could say he was leaving Franklin and moving to Paris to be with another woman.” She paused to catch her breath. “Turned out he didn’t even like dogs. I haven’t been in a relationship since.”

  Rick was quiet, too quiet. Over-sharing had never been her problem, and here she’d just relived one of the most painful moments of her life in front of Rick. How humiliating.

  When Mac lifted her gaze and turned to him, the confused look in his eyes made her stomach drop.

  She was the idiot here. She had just shared way too much—verbal diarrhea at its worst. No wonder she always tried to keep a lid on her past. The sudden, overwhelming desire to tell Rick private things about herself was not how their weekend was supposed to go. Rick was meant to fall in love with Brandy, and Mac was meant to build a snowman with Jeremy, then go home alone and set up another couple.

  Instead, she’d just made a fool of herself.

  “Idiot,” she heard Rick repeat.

  “I know,” Mac agreed, feeling tears of embarrassment behind her eyes. She was an idiot. Why didn’t her life have one of those do-over remote controls? She would take it all back and spare the current humiliation.

  “I’m serious,” Rick continued, leaning forward a few inches. “I mean, what kind of supreme idiot was this guy?”

  She stared at him.

  “Mac.” He leaned forward another inch. “If we were together and…” He stopped himself and leaned back. “Well, not we,” he corrected, pushing up one sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I mean, if I was ever lucky enough to be with…with someone I loved, I would live in a barn of homeless dogs if that was what it took to keep her.”

  “Do you like dogs?” Mac asked. It seemed like a rational question, and the only thing she could think of to say.

  Rick knit his eyebrows. “That’s not the point,” he said after a moment.

  Mac’s throat went dry and she couldn’t swallow.

  “And I do like dogs,” Rick added. “I had a golden retriever when I was a kid.”

  “What was its name?”

  He pulled back a half smile. “Madison.” He paused. “She died.”

  Mac’s chest felt heavy. “I’m sorry.”

  Rick shook his head and reached for the soda in Mac’s hand. He tipped his head back, took a long drink, then gave it back. Mac was shocked. They’d never shared a drink before. Not that she minded. It just felt so…natural.

  “Anyway,” he said. “What were we talking about before?”

  Rick didn’t want to talk about his dog, and Mac did not want to talk about her broken heart. So…

  “We were talking about the paper,” she said.

  Rick looked at her. “We were?” After a moment, he smiled. “Subtle hint to change the subject?”

  “I am the queen of subtle.”

  …

  Rick felt like he needed to roll down the window. Or maybe run about ten miles through the snow.

  Live in a barn of homeless dogs? If they lived in a barn, would they still be homeless?

  He was going mental. And what was he doing telling Mac that he would basically do anything to be with her? Not the most productive way to spend an afternoon while waiting to meet up with another woman.

  Mac was right to change the subject. This was going nowhere.

  “The newspaper is good,” he said. “Less exciting than your speech classes. Unless there’s a triple homicide this weekend, all I’ve got on my plate is the Lincoln Park vote on…” He trailed off. Another nowhere subject.

  “Right,” Mac said. It was quiet for a few moments. “Ya know, it would be really nice to get some support from you. If the paper—”

  “Mackenzie.”

  “Just hear me out.” She turned and sat forward. “It’s not just about the park. It’s the life of the community. I learned how to do cartwheels in that park. I had my first kiss in the woods. The kids at school take their dogs there, away from traffic. Why don’t you write about that?”

  “I have.”

  “Write it again!”

  “No.”

  She growled, but her eyes were sparkling. “Are you deliberately trying to make me kill you?”

  Rick laughed. “You know, I’ve heard that some men find women with a temper sexy.” He glanced out the window. “It’s a good thing I’m not one of them.”

  Mac sat back, folded her arms, and groaned.

  He smiled again, knowing she was trying to calm herself down. It was quite enjoyable to watch. Maybe he was beginning to find a healthy temper sexy after all.

  “You don’t understand what losing this park would mean,” Mac continued a few minutes later, after finishing her soda and the Snickers bar.

  “It’s not the whole park,” Rick said, taking the empty wrapper and stuffing it into the ashtray. “What makes you think the act will get voted through?”

  Mac rubbed her fists into her eyes. “Because obviously I haven’t had very good luck lately.” The comment seemed to be mostly to herself. She shivered.

  Rick looked out the window. The sun was right overhead, but it was still snowing. “Are you cold?” he asked.

  Her voice was small when she answered, “A little.”

  Without a thought, Rick scooted across the bench seat, moved his feet over the dividing hump on the floor, and slid an arm around Mac’s shoulders. He pulled her tight to his side. “Survival tip one-oh-one,” he explained. “It’s in all the boy scout manuals.”

  “Smooth move,” Mac said. Her voice sounded skeptical, but she didn’t move away. She was cold, and Rick was doing his best to keep her warm. There was nothing more to it than that. Any man would have done the same. Any man would live in a barn of dogs. And so what if her hair smelled like coconut?

  After a silent few minutes, Mac adjusted her position, kind of nuzzling into him. Rick tried to breathe normally as they relaxed into their perfectly platonic position.

  “Rick?” Mac whispered. There was something held back in her voice.

  “Yes?” he whispered back as heat jolted through his veins.

  “I don’t understand why you can’t write one little article taking my side. It would do so much good.”

  Rick let out his breath. “You know I can’t,” he said, turning to rest his chin on the top of her head. He had the desire to take in a deep inhale.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  Right then, it was hard to consider not giving Mac what she wanted when she was curled up beside him, feeling warm and soft and wonderful. Luckily, Rick was able to tap into the miniscule, professional, logical portion of his brain just in the nick of time.

  “Mac,” he began, “you know I can’t editorialize like that.” He took a beat. “Not again.”

  His last two words hung in the air.

  The “again” Rick was referring to was when he had written the article last fall, disclosing Tess’s show choir’s strategy
to win at the regional competition. At the time, he’d thought the way he’d disclosed the information was perfectly ethical. It was “news,” he’d told himself… Just another part of the story he’d been reporting on for weeks.

  A few nights later, however, Mac had blown into his office—not as a mere concerned member of the public, but as an irate member of the faculty and the school union. She was there to talk him into printing a public apology and a retraction. He’d given her what she wanted. Afterward—because it was very late at night—he had driven her home and walked her to the door.

  Once inside, Rick had thrown all his professional instinct aside and kissed her…the one thing he’d been wanting to do since the first time they’d met. And it was an amazing kiss, which had started at the door, deepened in the hallway, and ended on her couch.

  “We shouldn’t do this,” Mac had whispered when she’d pulled her soft lips away from his that night. “Not yet.”

  “Yet?” Rick had repeated, removing his hands from her hair.

  “The school board is deciding in a couple of weeks,” she’d said. “If anyone finds out that we’re”—she’d dipped her chin and grinned, girlishly—“mixing business and pleasure, it will be a disaster.”

  Rick could still picture the disappointed look in her eyes that night, and how he’d been dying to kiss that away. But she’d been right.

  “You could get fired,” she’d added.

  Back then, Mac hadn’t known yet that Rick wasn’t just a reporter at The Franklin Standard, but that he actually owned the newspaper. It wasn’t until the next day that he’d told her the truth. After that, things were never the same, though he still didn’t know why. Months later, when they’d come up with their stupid “arrangement,” it was like that kiss had never happened. They were caught in the platonic zone.

  But Rick had never stopped caring for Mackenzie, never stopped feeling an incredible attraction toward her, even when she was laughing too loudly in public or defending a losing argument… Maybe especially then.

  “Mac,” he whispered, feeling her warm body against his as they sat together in the truck.

  “Yes?”

  When he didn’t go on, he felt her shift away. He turned his chin to find her staring up at him. He recognized that look. It made his heart pound like a drum inside his chest.

  “I want you to know,” he began, “that…we might be stuck here for a while.”

  She bit her full bottom lip and seemed to be mulling over the meaning of his words. Her lips mesmerized him. A moment later, she nodded and he tightened his arm around her.

  “Which means…” he continued, allowing his voice to trail off. She was a smart woman; she would know what he meant.

  “Which means,” Mac finished for him, “that Brandy and Jeremy will be waiting.”

  Rick stared down at her, speechless, his arm around her shoulders going slack. He didn’t think he’d ever felt more disappointed in all his thirty years of life.

  “They’re landing this afternoon, in a few hours.” She cleared her throat. “Do you think we’ll be at the cabin in time?”

  They both jumped when a horn blasted.

  Mac whipped around. “Car,” she said.

  Rick adjusted the rearview mirror to look back, supremely annoyed by the interruption.

  “Do you think it’s an ax murderer?” Mac asked.

  “Probably. What should I do?”

  Mac bit her lip and tapped her chin, feigning deep thought. “I think you should take him down,” she said. “Oh, but promise that you won’t display any ninja moves until after we find out if we can get a tow.”

  “All right,” Rick said as he got back in the driver’s seat. “If you insist.”

  After another look at the car through the mirror, Rick pushed open the door. “Not even one preliminary karate chop?” he asked, turning back to Mac.

  “Well, maybe just one,” she said. “But only to save my honor.”

  Rick laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles.

  She fluttered her lashes and feigned a swoon. “My hero.”

  Despite their joking, she still didn’t seem quite herself. Or maybe he was projecting his own unwillingness to be away from her for even a minute. But when she picked up her cell phone, shook it like a Magic Eight Ball then unleashed a string of very colorful expletives, Rick knew she was all right.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mac bit her nail and stared out the window of the small auto shop waiting room. Rick was in the garage talking to the mechanic, and she was exhausted. Fighting off physical attraction was hard work. And that’s just what she’d been doing.

  She’d almost kissed him. Almost. And she’d wanted to. Wanted to do more than kiss, actually. She could practically feel it happening before he’d even made that comment about being stuck in the truck for a while.

  It was a miracle she’d managed to come to her senses in time.

  Rick was not the right man for her; this was already ingrained in her brain. They were too different. Sure, they got along most of the time, but when it came to real issues, they were like night and day. He played golf at some fancy club on the weekends while she shoveled manure at the animal shelter. Definitely not a match made in heaven.

  When Rick waved at her through the glass, her heart jumped. Stupid traitor heart.

  Okay, maybe she could get past the fact that they were polar opposites, but what Mac couldn’t get past was his background: the Duffy Dynasty.

  For months, Mac had wondered if all the Duffys were alike. Did they only think about themselves and not the hardworking, blue-collar people of Franklin? Was their world all tuxedos and diamonds and laughing about putting three hundred people out of work?

  What made Mac think Rick was any different? Maybe he would have closed the Elm Street factory, too, just like his father had. Daily print newspapers were becoming an ancient artifact in a lot of small towns. Maybe Rick would be shutting down the newspaper in a few years, which would be another hundred jobs. Was that why Rick was brought to Franklin in the first place? To phase it out?

  Something dropped in her stomach when she watched Rick hand over his credit card. It was one of those black ones. With a swipe of plastic, he was solving all their problems.

  For the past three years, Mac had prided herself on her independence. She wanted to be an example to her sister, to show her that women could be whatever they wanted without anyone’s help. If you let a man take care of everything, sooner or later, you end up with nothing and have to start over. Like their mother.

  She looked at Rick again. He ran a hand though his hair—his trademark move. He was adorable.

  No, Mac still didn’t need a man, but what if she suddenly kind of wanted one? One that smelled clean like soap and could make her knees go weak just by looking at her?

  “We’re all set,” he said, tucking his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. Mac let her gaze linger there for a moment.

  Jeans, she couldn’t help thinking. What was he doing walking around in those unimaginative corduroy pants and business suits when he could be showing his butt to the world?

  Okay, maybe Rick wasn’t all about tuxedos and expensive clothing. And that stupid truck. Since when did he not always drive a luxury automobile? If she was wrong about the money thing, what else—

  “Mac,” Rick said, walking over to her chair. “Something wrong?”

  “Maybe,” Mac said, kind of dreamily, still lost in her thoughts. “How do you feel about animals?” she asked, thinking about the kennel she should be mucking out at that very moment.

  “Animals?”

  “You said you like dogs, right?”

  “Sure,” Rick said with a nod, sliding his hands into his front pockets.

  Mac felt an illogical glow of pleasure. “How do you like cows?” she asked, her mind skipping to a documentary she’d watched a while ago about the poor treatment of cattle in the beef industry.

  Rick grinned. “Medium rare.”
>
  Okay, so maybe he was a Neanderthal after all.

  “The truck’s out front,” he said, twirling his key ring around one finger. “Are you ready?”

  Mac stood up, slightly disappointed, but not all that surprised. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”

  …

  The heater was warm but the atmosphere in the cab of the truck wasn’t exactly cozy. Something had changed. Rick couldn’t pinpoint what because nothing had actually happened, but there was definitely a shift. He knew he hadn’t imagined that.

  He shook his head and adjusted the mirror. No good in trying to evaluate everything. Without flat-out asking Mac if her feelings had changed, it would be like beating his head against a brick wall. And he wasn’t about to bring up the subject, not as they were literally driving toward their dates. Not to mention the fact that she’d rejected him—again—less than an hour ago.

  “Speaking of steak,” Rick said, dying for small talk.

  Mac turned to him. “Were we?”

  “I was thinking about what you said earlier, about the cows. There’s a nice steakhouse a few miles from the cabin. We should all head over there tonight.”

  Mac didn’t answer right away, and Rick suddenly worried that Mac might not be a meat-eater. Surely he would have noticed that before. She did change her mind pretty often about things like that, though. She’d gone off dairy for a week and hadn’t bothered to tell him at the time.

  “Sounds good,” Mac said. “I love steak.”

  Rick exhaled. But then he realized it should have been Brandy that he was thinking about. He’d had three meals with her. Had she ordered meat then? Well, all restaurants these days had vegetarian menu items to choose from. Brandy would be fine.

  “Put the wipers on high,” Mac said.

  Rick turned to her. “What?”

  She was pointing at the front windshield. “The snow is sticking to the glass. How can you see where you’re going?”

  Honestly, Rick hadn’t been concentrating on the road like he should have been. “Thanks,” he said. The windshield cleared immediately.

  “It’s really coming down now,” Mac said. “And listen to the wind.”