Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

H e’s Sporting Wood

Ruby

After a long day of classes, I go by the library to say hello to Charlie and end up staying there with her and getting some work done. Charlie is my best friend, and we share everything with each other, but Macklin almost feels too forbidden to even mention. He grew up with Hayden and me. Abuela treated him like her own grandchild. Me having feelings for him is out of my control. Macklin has always been handsome, and he has the most amazing eyes, but there is something deeper that draws me to him. Maybe it’s a shared sense of loneliness, although he’d never admit it. Or maybe it’s the fact he cares, and I didn’t have many people in my life who were sincere, outside of Hayden and Abuela. But there has also been a spark I feel when we touch. Not that we’ve touched in an inappropriate way, but we’ve held hands, we’ve hugged, and every time our bodies touch, I am feeling too many things I don’t feel around other guys. Sometimes I think I am broken.

I walk down the dark street toward the hockey house. As I walk up the drive, I notice the garage door open, and Macklin is cutting wood. He’s wearing a white wifebeater and a pair of gray jogging pants, and my mouth waters watching his muscles work. Cutting wood shouldn’t be so sexy. The right thing to do would be to walk into the house and ignore him after his crazy behavior last night. Something tells me Macklin is in that garage because he’s making me a bookcase and, although, it doesn’t have any deep meaning behind his efforts, it still makes my heart stutter.

I walk to the entrance of the garage and pause. “Hi.” I lick my lips and remind myself to not start panting from his hotness. Geez, get a grip, Ruby. You’re a bloody mess.

He looks up with cloudy gray eyes. “Hey.”

He goes back to cutting wood and it feels like a relief not having his intense gaze on me.

“What are you making?” I ask. I shouldn’t assume he’s making something for me because he was always good with his hands. I also know Macklin, and me calling him out about last night will just put him on the defense, and he’ll shut down.

He doesn’t lift his head when he answers, “A bookshelf for your room. I told you I’d make one.”

“Mack, you really don’t have to,” I assure.

He lifts his head now and watches me, his body radiating tension, his sleek jawline pulsing. “I want to, Periwinkle. Besides, it helps me clear my head when I am building things.” He returns his attention to the saw in his hand.

I don’t know what to say to that. When he calls me Periwinkle it makes my stomach flip. No one has ever heard him call me that. It’s like our dirty little secret.

“You need some help?” I offer and his gaze cuts abruptly to mine. He doesn’t answer. “I’m a very good assistant and you’re making that for me.” I hope to convince him because I don’t want to walk away from him now. We haven’t really communicated in two years. I know I should be pissed, but there must have been something deeper going on because it never made sense to me. Hayden, Macklin, and I applied here so we would have each other.

“Okay, maybe you can line that wood up for me and measure it out to about fifty-two

inches in length,” he suggests. His words are matter-of-fact as he avoids looking at me.

“Okay,” I reply. Even though he didn’t say anything remotely dirty, my mind travels to the word inches. I automatically wonder about the size of his cock. Then my mind wanders to the word wood. What kind of wood does he sport in the morning? For a girl who’s a virgin, I probably shouldn’t be having these dirty thoughts, but being close to him turns me into a hot mess.

I do as he says, lining up the wood. He passes me a pencil and a measuring tape, and I mark the pieces of wood for him.

“Thanks for doing this,” I say to break the silence.

“It’s nothing, Rubes.”

He smiles. I smile and drop the wood. It lands on my toe. “Ouch, shit.” I hop around howling from pain.

“Careful,” Mack says since I am hopping around, and it’s a small space with all kinds of tools. He takes hold of my arm. “Come sit on the stool for a second.” He guides me to a stool, and I sit, but I still haven’t caught my breath from the pain. “Let’s take a look,” he says, and he goes to remove my sneaker.

“That isn’t necessary,” I assure.

“You’re on the track team. You need all your toes in good working condition,” he reminds as he removes my sneaker and sock.

“It’s a little red,” he observes, holding on to the toe.

“Agh, that’s ticklish.” I pull my foot out of his grasp.

“I see some things haven’t changed.” He smiles conspiratorially.

“Still excruciatingly ticklish,” I admit, feeling my breath hitch as I look into his eyes.

He clears his throat. “Your toe is going to be just fine.” He pulls my sock on and places the sneaker on my foot. He offers a hand, which I take, and he pulls me up. Only I lose my balance and fall into him. I should recover quickly but instead I take in his scent and the warm, hard feel of his body pressed to mine. It’s like someone has pressed a slow-motion button as I place my hand on his hard chest and use it to balance myself. Only I don’t feel balanced. I feel completely off from the warmth of his skin through his wifebeater, the scent of him, and the strength of his arms.

“Periwinkle?” he says my name, but it sounds like a question. “You were always so beautiful.”

My mouth turns dry as the ability to speak escapes me until I blink and get my wits back.

“You think I’m beautiful?” I ask with surprise.

A slow smile tugs his perfect lips. “Always have.”

“Always,” I repeat his word in a daze when I feel something pressed against my lower belly. “Wood.”

“Huh?” he asks, confused.

He’s sporting wood from being pressed up against me, and I am so gone I can’t formulate a sentence.

“You, wood,” I mutter, completely embarrassed by my social incompetence.

“Ah,” he says and his gray eyes light with mischief. “I have a beautiful girl pressed up against me. You can’t blame a guy.” He backs away and adjusts himself.

“Wow, okay, I am so embarrassed,” I pull away and then I reach for the wood I dropped on my toe.

“Why?” Macklin asks.

“I. . .you. . .you’ve always been so handsome,” I blurt and instantly regret it. “Shit, sorry.” The heel of my palm comes up to my forehead.

“You think I’m attractive?” Macklin asks.

I take a large intake of breath before exhaling. “How could I not?”

“Hey, guys,” Hayden says, walking up the driveway. “What’s going on?”

My brother looks between Macklin and me.

“Macklin is making me a bookcase, even though I told him it was unnecessary,” I explain to my brother.

“It’s no big deal,” Macklin assures.

“He likes to build things,” Hayden states. “You have to see all the furniture he made for himself in his room.”

I eye Macklin curiously. “I’d like to see it sometime.”

“When he isn’t in his room,” Hayden adds.

Macklin laughs. “Exactly what I was thinking,” he adds.

Sure you were, Macklin.

“I better go inside to get some work done,” I say because there is an awkward tension radiating between Macklin and me and with Hayden standing here, it feels like too much.

I leave the guys and head into the house, but an excited energy flows through me over what happened in the garage. Macklin and I just confessed our attraction to each other. At least I think we did.