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“You’re a badass, Kate,” I add as Felix shifts the ambulance into park. “A prickly badass, but even prickly badasses are allowed to have bad days sometimes.”
Obviously, there’s some merit behind the saying about guys only thinking with their dicks, because mine’s clearly in control at the moment.
“Hey, Kate?” I turn back to him. “Yeah?” “Next time you need a ride––and I’m not just saying this––call me.” “Mack, I’m fine.” “You don’t get it. I literally won’t sleep at night if you don’t make me this promise.”
The crispy bacon crunches between her teeth as she stares me down.
That's actually disgusting
“I was married for sixteen years, and I might’ve messed up on a lot of things, but there were a few things I did learn.” “Like what?” “Like sometimes, a woman’s eyes can say what her mouth refuses to.”
Against my better judgment, I whisper, “You wanna be my friend?” His attention drops to my lips, and he steps away. “Yeah, Kate. I wanna be your friend.”
“Because you deserve a guy who understands there’s so much more to you than your diagnosis. And if he was willing to let you go once because of it, who’s to say he won’t do it again when things get rough?” He kisses my cheek, and my breath hitches. “You deserve more, Kate. A hell of a lot more.”
Who are you, Macklin Taylor? And why do you care about li’l ol’ me?
“Good. Now, go back inside. It’s cold as shit out here.” “To be fair, I’m pretty sure shit is actually kind of warm, but––” I shove her gently. “Go on, my little porcupine.” With a light laugh, she turns around and rushes toward the entrance, calling over her shoulder, “Okay, my little golden retriever.”
“How is it?” he prods. My mouth quirks up. “Not too shabby. But you never answered me. How’d you know I’d give in and want some?” He laughs again and takes another bite of chicken and pie crust. “Give the girl the food despite her protests. It’s basically rule number one when becoming friends with a girl.”
Does he have any idea? How freaking cute he is? How he somehow has a direct line to my ovaries––and probably every other girl’s ovaries on the planet? If he does, it isn’t fair. Then again, if he doesn’t, it’s almost worse. With great power comes great responsibility.
“You gave me the opportunity to make sure you’re taken care of,” he counters. “And if you haven’t figured it out by now, let me make myself clear. I like taking care of you. I like knowing you’re okay. Knowing you’re happy, healthy, and able to be the best Kate you can be.”
“I’m gonna jerk off to the memory of how good you felt against me, praying one day you’ll like me enough to want the same thing. I want you, Kate. Physically, emotionally, intellectually. Sound okay to you, my prickly little porcupine?”
I hate how many times it’s made me feel like I’m worthless. Because when I’m with Mack? I don’t feel so worthless anymore. In fact, I’m starting to feel pretty damn valuable.
“To be fair, I started reading romance books when Miley posted the cover of a book on her Instagram. I bought it hoping we could discuss it.” He read a romance book in hopes of connecting with his daughter? Swoon.
“Don’t worry, my prickly little porcupine. I’ll help you see what I do anytime I look at you.”
“You deserve the romance novel kind of love. The one where you can’t get enough, and you’re convinced a guy like that doesn’t exist in the real world when the truth is…”
I bite my tongue and keep myself from pointing out we aren’t exactly the same age. She’s barely eighteen. I’m twenty-five. Her dad is thirty-four.
