The tension in the car was palpable. Gayle shook her foot with all the anger she was feeling as she stared out the window of the back seat. While Mac drove, Lance fiddled with the music stations, most likely because he wanted out of the car.
Gayle did not understand what had crawled up Mac’s ass. Yeah, Kevin had kissed her. He was drunk. There had been no reason to punch him, especially when throwing the hardest, fastest punch was how Mac made a living. It was totally unfair and uncalled for. That was probably the first punch Kevin had ever taken. If Mac would’ve just chilled out for a damn minute, she would’ve handled the situation on her own.
Mac parked the Jeep behind Lance’s house. His friend jumped out and was gone within seconds. She opened her door, intent on doing the same.
“Stay in the car, Gayle.”
She stared at the back of his head. Yeah, she found the dominating thing hot in bed, but now? Not so much.
“Yeah. Screw you, Mac.”
She hopped out, slammed the door, sent him an eat-shit expression through the driver’s side window, then stormed off across the field.
She’d made it halfway to her house before he came up behind her.
“You are such a pain in the ass!” he yelled.
She turned but continued walking backward. “Why? Because I didn’t obey and sit like a good doggie? If you want me to stick around while you are being a complete pain in the ass, don’t tell me what to do, ask me, or you’re going to get the exact opposite. Do you understand?”
He thrust a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re right. I apologize. Gayle, I would like to talk about tonight please.”
“That’s better.” She stopped. “What the hell got into you?”
He strode up to her, put his hand on her lower back, pivoted her around again, and led her to the bottom step of her stoop. He linked his fingers between his knees and hung his head. “I got jealous.”
“There was no reason to be jealous of Kevin.”
“It wasn’t actually him. It was something he said to me before you walked up.”
“What?”
“He told me to enjoy you now, because you would drop me and move on fast. He called me your current boy toy.”
“Did he, now?”
“He also alluded to the fact he’d like a second go at you, right before he grabbed and kissed you, thus, my momentary chest-pounding moment.” He was silent for a moment. “You date a lot, it seems.”
It was a statement, but she answered, “Yes,” anyway.
“Why?”
As long as they were being brutally honest… “Better to be the leaver than the leavee.”
She could almost hear his teeth grind. “I’m hoping there’s more behind those words than smug bitch.”
Gayle exhaled. Was she really going to tell him all the sordid details? Studying his hanging head, she realized, yeah, she was. He already knew about Sam, and about him dying in the tornado with her family, but not the rest. Not the part that still drove her.
“Sam was my first love. We were together for almost eight years. We made it through a lot of hurdles most high school sweethearts can’t get past. If he hadn’t died, we’d be married now. But he did die. He left me. Not willingly, but that’s what happened.”
“It must have been tough on you.”
Squinting, she looked out across the yard. “It took me a long time to date again, to dig out of the grief and find myself. Two years, in fact. Then I met Brian. We had a whirlwind relationship and I moved in with him four months later. A year after that, he kicked me out. Told me I was a cold woman who was too career-driven to be good wife material for any sane man.”
Mac scowled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
She shrugged. “I was working on my doctorate at the time.” She pulled at a thread on her jeans. “So I picked up the pieces of my life for a second time. Six months later, I met Mark. We had tons in common. He had a master’s in meteorology. He was also a storm chaser. We went on so many chases together. I thought maybe I’d finally met my kindred spirit. I loved Mark. Truly thought about a future for the first time since Sam died. We were together six months when I caught him in bed with a co-worker of his. His explanation? I knew how to have fun. But he needed someone more serious.”
Mac swore, but a sarcastic laugh escaped her.
“For the third time in four years, my heart was broken. And I was tired of it. I’ve spent the last two years being Gayle Matthews. Making no connections, but enjoying a warm body from time to time, then moving on to the next. It works for me.”
Mac was silent a long time. “And what about me?”
“What about you?”
“Me. Us. What about us?”