4. Mac

Chapter 4

Mac

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said one bedroom,” I mused as I stepped into the cabin after sharing dinner with Aspen’s family.

As an architect, I could appreciate that these older homes were solid; their bones could rival any house built with the materials available today. The exterior was rustic, the visible stacked logs dating the structure. But inside, it was more modern, even if it was small. And it wasn’t just one bedroom; it was one room total, not counting where a wall had been erected to cordon off an indoor bathroom that had been added at some point over the years.

There was a stone fireplace, with a loveseat set before it against the right wall. A kitchenette took up the left side, with a table that could be pulled down so it didn’t take up too much floor space. And against the back of the room rested a queen-sized bed.

“Tried to warn you,” Aspen grumbled under her breath as she flopped onto the bed with a sigh, dramatically throwing an arm over her face.

Watching her all flushed and flustered as her mother made it crystal-clear that she was cool with us having premarital sex was a rare treat. I might’ve stepped in sooner if it hadn’t made Aspen look even more beautiful. When her blue eyes pleaded with me to put a stop to the madness, a better man would have politely declined the offer to stay on her parents’ property out of respect. But this week was set to give me a taste of what it might have been like if Aspen Sullivan hadn’t written me off the first time we met, and I’d be damned if I was going to waste it.

“Are you seriously mad at me for leaning into the story we’re trying to sell?” I challenged.

It only took five strides to reach where Aspen lay sprawled on the mattress.

Her arm fell away when she sensed my presence, and she sat up suddenly. Gesturing wildly around the room, she yelled, “Take a look around! Every moment we aren’t with my family will now be spent in this enclosed space. Together.”

Didn’t sound so bad to me, but I knew what I was feeling for her was one-sided. There was no need to make this week any more awkward than it was already shaping up to be.

Shoving both hands in my pockets, I rocked back on my heels. “Yup. I can see that.”

Aspen groaned. “Why couldn’t you just say no?”

“Because you turn as red as a tomato when anyone suggests that we have a real relationship, and that’s a problem. I figured if we spent more time together, you’d relax enough for us to make it through this thing in one piece, without anyone being any the wiser that you can’t stand me.”

The words were muffled as she buried her face in her hands. “This was a terrible idea.”

“Too late to back out now.”

“Don’t remind me.” She bent in half, resting her forearms on her knees and took a few steadying breaths.

“I think dinner went well. Your dad’s not much of a talker, but I wouldn’t be either if I thought my daughter would be getting down and dirty with her boyfriend in this little love shack all week.”

She shot off the bed so quickly that I stepped back, instinctively covering my crotch. Judging by the wild look in her blue eyes and the way her nostrils flared, I’d set her right over the top and was now the sole target of her rage.

“You better sleep with one eye open tonight, Blaze,” she forced out through gritted teeth.

Apparently, I had a death wish because I couldn’t stop myself from teasing, “Are you a big spoon or a little spoon, Freckles? I prefer big spoon myself, but I’m flexible, seeing as this is your gig.”

Her brows rose to kiss her hairline, and she scoffed. “Oh, hell no. You have two options: the couch or the floor.”

Okay, then. I kinda figured she wouldn’t be willing to share the bed, but a guy could hope.

Stepping over to the loveseat, I eyed the length before dropping onto it and stretching my body across the cushions. My neck was bent at a weird angle along one armrest, and my knees got hung up on the other, with my feet dangling over the side. That wouldn’t work.

“The floor, it is,” I declared upon standing. “Am I allowed to ask for the bare minimum of blankets and a pillow?”

Aspen stomped across the hardwood floor, reached into a free-standing basket in the corner near the bed, and tossed the requested items at me. I easily caught them mid-air, which only seemed to annoy her further.

Huffing, she moved toward her suitcase, ripping it open so violently that I worried she’d break the zipper.

Clutching a pair of flannel garments to her chest, she mumbled, “Swear to God, if you say something about sleeping naked . . .” as she slammed the bathroom door.

Yep, this was gonna be a fun week.

The minute we stepped inside the main house the following day, for what Aspen described as a marathon cookie-baking session, a voice called out, “Well, I’ll be . . . I think she found a straight one this time!”

“Meemaw!” Aspen screeched, her face going bright red.

The elderly lady in question was not at all ashamed as she openly perused my body from head to toe.

Leaning into it, I stepped closer to where she sat on the couch and bent down to take her hand in mine. “You’ve got me nailed. I’m a sucker for a beautiful woman.” I tossed her a wink before shifting my gaze to the girl I was pretending to be madly in love with. “Aspen, why didn’t you tell me you got your good looks from your grandmother?”

A smirk crept onto my lips at the way she glared at me, her jaw clenched so tight I could hear her teeth grinding from across the room. This stiff-as-a-board routine wasn’t going to fool anyone. She needed to lighten up.

Meemaw, on the other hand, ate that shit right up. A hint of pink crept onto her pale cheeks, and she pressed a hand to one as she blustered, “Oh, well, you can call me Meemaw like the rest. You hear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I drawled.

“Ooh, and manners too?” She twisted her head so she could speak to Aspen. “You hold onto this one, girl.”

Aspen’s features relaxed, and she ducked her head. “I’ll try.”

My throat grew tight, knowing she wouldn’t try. She couldn’t wait to be rid of me after this week was over. I wouldn’t put it past her to send me her portions of our joint projects digitally from this point forward.

Removing my hand from Meemaw’s, I rubbed over the ache in my chest as it sank in that I’d likely never see Aspen’s face again after graduation.

I shuddered, picturing a life in which Aspen Sullivan wasn’t a constant presence.

“You cold, boy?” Meemaw eyed me with concern before hollering, “Jett! Turn up the heat!”

Jett called back from somewhere deep within the house, “It’s plenty warm, Ma! I’m sweating my ass off with the ovens running!”

“Mac’s from California, born and raised,” Aspen explained to her grandmother, walking closer to where I stood. “He didn’t think to bring a coat.”

“Well, that won’t do. We’ll have Tripp lend you one of his while you’re here,” Meemaw declared with a firm nod.

“Much appreciated.” I tipped my chin.

She placed her bony hand on the couch cushion beside her. “Now, you sit your butt down and tell me all about yourself before we see what kind of skills you bring to the kitchen.”

Aspen snorted as I took a seat, and I quirked an eyebrow, daring her to toss a snarky remark about how I probably didn’t know how to boil water having grown up in a house full of staff.

Wisely, she kept her mouth shut.

I beamed at Meemaw. “I’m an open book. What would you like to know?”

“Aspen’s already let it slip where you grew up, so why don’t you tell me about your family? You can tell a lot about a person by how they were raised.”

Oh boy.

Smiling, I took a slow and steady breath. “Let’s see. My grandfather started our family business with one little hotel in San Francisco. My father and his brother inherited it and decided to expand. They bought up real estate in up-and-coming markets around the world and built an empire.”

Aspen took a seat on the coffee table opposite us. “Mac’s family owns BlazeLuxe International.”

Meemaw squinted at her granddaughter. “You’re talking like I’m supposed to know what that is.” Turning to me, she said apologetically, “Don’t have much use for hotels. Everything I need is right here in Rust Canyon.”

I huffed out a laugh, loving her candor. “Nothing wrong with that, ma’am.”

“What about your mother’s side?” she prompted.

I fought the urge to grimace. How did I put this delicately?

“Mom was a dancer.”

Maybe that was vague enough that she might assume Mom had been something classy and graceful, like a ballerina, instead of the truth that my mother was a stripper my father had knocked up and was forced to marry. One whose nasty cocaine habit only got worse when she had access to unlimited funds as the wife of a wealthy man, and eventually, she overdosed, leaving behind two young children and a husband who hadn’t cared about her more than his job.

A gentle squeeze on my knee had my head snapping up. Aspen’s gaze was full of understanding, like she could read between the lines on what I wasn’t saying. But there was also regret swimming in those beautiful blue depths, like maybe she was coming to realize that she’d written me off without really knowing me. It gave me hope that she might be open to wiping the slate clean and starting fresh.

“She passed,” I whispered, more to Aspen than to the woman who’d asked about my family in the first place. “A long time ago.”

That palm resting against the denim of my jeans flipped over, and my breath caught when she left it there in a silent offer for me to take it. Heart hammering against my ribcage so hard it threatened to burst free, I twined my fingers with Aspen’s, accepting the simple gesture of comfort.

Clearing my throat, I checked off the last member of my immediate family. “My sister, Kensington, is two years older and already works in the family’s corporate offices with my father.”

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from Aspen, for fear she might pull away if I broke eye contact.

Meemaw made an impressed sound. “Would do the world good to have more women in positions of power. Are you planning to join them when you’re done with your schooling?”

That’s what everyone expected of me. I’d forgone obtaining a master’s in business like my sister and cousins, electing to pursue the structural side of what we created by focusing on architecture. But the idea of designing beautiful buildings in locations only accessible by the ultra-rich didn’t inspire me. I wanted to make a difference in the world, though I was struggling to figure out a way to do that beyond cutting checks to worthy causes.

“Probably.” It pained me to say it, but it was true.

Before I could fall too deep into a pit of despair, thinking about my boring, unsatisfying future, Daisy clapped her hands from the threshold of the kitchen and declared, “Time to get to work! These cookies aren’t going to bake themselves.”