He wanted to strangle Dominic, who was supposed to be his best friend. What in the hell was he thinking having Ava on his bike? And he planned to teach her how to ride it? Un-fucking-believable. Mac wanted to call and chew his ass out, but he didn’t want to risk distracting him. Damn it, his friends knew how much Ava meant to him. He’d never thought he had to worry about any of them putting the woman he loved in danger. Was that the worst of it, though? Was Dom interested in Ava? Things had sure looked friendly enough with their bodies plastered together on that damn Harley. Seeing her slender arms gripping Dom tightly was enough to make Mac lose his shit. He would probably have done something completely stupid and careless like taking off after them if not for Gwen standing there looking as though she was putting two and two together and coming up with a solid four.
He stalked into his bedroom, jerking a pair of basketball shorts out of the laundry basket sitting on the floor. He might not be the best housekeeper, but he figured he got points for the clothes at least being clean. He made quick work of jerking off his usual work attire and pulling the shorts on. After a quick stop at the door to put on his running shoes, he made his way across the sand and to the nearly empty beach beyond. As his feet hit the wet sand, he quickly found his rhythm. He desperately needed an outlet for the anger coursing through his body, and it was either run until he dropped or go kill his best friend. Not much of a choice there at all.
Chapter Seven
Ava hadn’t thought about it being the weekend when she concocted her master skating plan. Mac wouldn’t be on his regular schedule today, which would make it a little trickier to get him to notice her on the streets of Garden City. She had also had a moment of panic when she thought that maybe he might not be alone. What if Gwen was with him? She’d already had the other woman staring at her on the back of Dominic’s bike last night. After she calmed down, she realized that she had one ace in the hole; she knew that Mac took his mother to breakfast almost every Saturday morning without fail. She had gone along with them a few times, and Mac always met his mother at nine. Therefore, at eight thirty she was on the practically deserted streets of Garden City in a bright pink tank top and black running shorts. She had her new speed skates, which the gum-popping teenager in the sporting goods section of Walmart had recommended. She had looked at the safety gear, but realized that Mac wouldn’t recognize her in a helmet. It didn’t really matter; she just intended to stand around, not actually do much skating.
The only thing she hadn’t taken into account was the fact that skates tended to roll even without you trying, and coupled with the incline on the sidewalk, things happened . . . fast. She was sitting on a bench when she saw Mac’s black Tahoe turn the corner. She jumped up quickly, hoping he saw her before he passed. As it turned out, she didn’t have to worry about catching Mac’s attention, because she caught the attention of everyone within a two-mile vicinity as she flew wildly down the sidewalk before wrapping briefly around a NO PARKING sign, then ultimately running into the bumper of a Dodge Neon and finally falling backward spectacularly onto her ass.
Birds were tweeting above her head like something out of a Tom and Jerry cartoon as she lay there stunned. “Honey, are you okay?” someone asked helpfully before yelling down the line of onlookers, “She’s conscious but has some road rash.” What does that even mean? she idly thought as she lay there wondering if anything was broken. Seemed she would have been better off on the damn Harley after all. She now hoped fervently that Mac hadn’t seen her. This was way too humiliating.
“Ava?” She blinked like an owl when she heard her name uttered in a familiar voice. She moaned as she turned her head to the right, blinking against the glare of the sun. Mac stood in the middle of the crowd looking as if he’d seen a ghost. His mouth was moving, but nothing appeared to be coming out of it. Maybe some silent swearwords. She was sure she’d seen him mouth something that started with an F. He seemed to shrug off whatever trance he had fallen in and jumped into typical Mac damage control. Kneeling beside her, he took inventory of the scratches on her body. “Where does it hurt, baby?”
She choked back a hysterical laugh before trying to pull herself up. “Where doesn’t it hurt would be a better question,” she muttered before her feet flew out from under her and again she landed backward on her sore ass. “Shit, that hurt.”
He put a hand on her stomach, holding her down. “Avie, let me take these damn skates off before you kill yourself. What in the world were you thinking?”
She looked at the crowd still standing around them. “Can we please save the lecture for when we’re alone? Just get me out of here.”
At that, Mac looked around, seeming to finally realize that they were creating quite a spectacle. He quickly removed her skates before leaning down to scoop her up effortlessly into his arms. “Wha . . . what are you doing?”