peeking up at him from the corner of her eye.
“We’re history, then,” Jericho said and left with Cindy bumping hips with him on one side and Tim on the other.
He jammed the tips of his fingers into the pockets of his jeans and rocked back on the heels of his boots, hesitant now that he and Macy were alone. “So what’s so important for you to have to do on a Friday night?”
A blast of pink brightened her cheeks before she straightened her shoulders and faced him head on, determination in her brown-eyed gaze. “Well, since it’s early, I was thinking of maybe grabbing a bite at Miss Sue’s. Are you hungry?” After she asked, she worried her bottom lip with her teeth, belying her nervousness around him.
He was hungry, but not necessarily for anything other than a taste of that luscious bottom lip. Years earlier he’d had a taste during what was supposed to be a chaste holiday kiss, but he had underestimated the potency of her kiss. That encounter had made him realize that like Tim, he had been smitten by tomboy Macy Ward.
“I’m hungry, but won’t Tim mind, you know…you and me. Friday night. Dinner.”
She cocked her head at him defiantly. “What I do is no longer any of Tim’s concern. So, dinner?”
Interesting, he thought, but quickly offered her his arm. “Dinner it is. My treat.”
He wanted to lick the plate of the last remnants of Miss Sue’s famous apple cobbler, but his dad had raised him to be a gentleman so he held back.
Macy must have seen the hunger that remained in his gaze since she offered up the last few bites of the pie on her plate. “You can finish mine.”
His mouth watered at the site of those extra pieces, but he shook his head. “I couldn’t take the last of your dessert.”
“Go ahead. I need to watch my figure anyway,” she said, moving aside his plate and pushing hers before him.
Fisher dug into the cobbler, but after he swallowed a bite, he said, “Seems to me you’re worrying for nothing, Mace.”
Truth be told, she had a wonderful figure. Trim and strong, but with womanly curves in all the right places. As he thought about that, he shifted in his seat as his jeans tightened painfully. He had imagined those curves next to him once too often since that fateful kiss.
“Something wrong, Fisher?” she asked, innocently unaware of the effect she had on him.
“Not at all,” he lied, quickly finished the cobbler and paid the tab.
With his hand on the small of her back, he walked her out to the sidewalk where they stood there for a moment, enjoying the early summer night. Dusk was just settling in, bringing with it the cooler night air and the soft intimate glow of the streetlights along Main Street.
“Thank you for dinner,” Macy said, glad for not only the fine food, but his company. He had always been a distant fourth musketeer to their little group and tonight she had been able to enjoy his presence without interference.
As he turned to look at her, she noticed the gleam in his green eyes. The kind of gleam that kicked her heart up into a hurried little beat. She might have been going out with Tim for as long as she could remember, but she could still recognize when a man found her attractive. And considering her breakup with Tim, it was a welcome balm that someone as attractive as Fisher appeared to be interested.
He smiled, his teeth white against his tanned skin and his dark five o’clock shadow. He was the kind of man who needed to shave more than twice a day. He was a man, she reminded herself, trying to ignore the pull of her attraction to him. Nothing like Jericho and Tim, even though Fisher was only two years older. There had always been a maturity and intensity about him that had set him apart from the others.
“It’s early still,” he said, the tones of his voice a soft murmur in the coming quiet of the night.
“It is,” she said.
He leaned toward her and a lock of nearly jet-black hair fell forward onto his forehead as he said, “Too early to call it a night, don’t you think?”
She met his gaze, glittering brightly with interest, the color like new spring grass. Kicking up that erratic beat of her heart and making her want to reach up and brush away that wild errant lock of hair.
“Did you have something in mind?” she asked in a breathless voice she didn’t recognize.
“How about a drive? I’ll even put the top down on the CJ.”
She imagined driving through the night, Fisher beside her. The scents of the early summer wildflowers whipping around them as they sped along in the open Jeep through the Texas countryside.
“I think that sounds really nice.”
They drove through the open meadows and fields surrounding Esperanza, the scented wind wrapping them in its embrace while bright moonlight lit the road before them until Fisher took a dirt road to one of the few nearby hills. He parked the CJ so it faced the lights of town and the wide starlit Texas sky.
She imagined she could see the lights of San Antonio, well to the south of their hometown. She and Tim had planned on going to college together there until Tim had said he was reconsidering that decision. She gazed at the lights of Esperanza and noticed the cars parked around Bill’s house where Jericho and Tim would be with the rest of the baseball team. Where she might have been a few weeks earlier if things hadn’t changed recently.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said and pushed back some strands of wind-blown hair from her face. The pads of his fingers brushed the sensitive skin of her cheek, sending a shiver rocketing through her body.
“Do you ever wonder if some things happen for a reason?” she asked.
“Meaning?” He arched one dark brow in question.
“Tim and me. His breaking it off.” She shrugged and turned in her seat to face him. “If it hadn’t been for that—”
“Being the nice girl that you are, you wouldn’t be here tonight.” He once again brushed the tips of his fingers across her cheek, then trailed them down to cup her jaw.
“Is that what you think I am? A nice girl?” she shot back, slightly perturbed, which was ridiculous. She was a nice gir,l unlike many of the women with whom Fisher had been seen around town.
“Don’t get so riled, Mace. There’s nothing wrong with being a nice girl.”
The words shot out of her mouth before she could censor them. “And boys like you don’t think about doing things with nice girls.”
“Boys like me?” he asked with another pointed arch of his brow and a wry smile on his lips.
Macy fidgeted with her hands, plucking at the seat belt she still wore. “You know, love ’em and leave ’em types like you.”
He chuckled and shook his head, but he never broke the contact of his hand against her chin. Instead, he inched his thumb up to brush softly across her lips.
“Let’s get something straight, Mace. First of all, I’m not a boy, I’m a man. A man whose daddy would tan his hide for the thoughts he’s having right now about the nice girl who happens to be sitting next to him.”
The warmth on the pad of his thumb spread itself across her lips and with his words, shot through the rest of her body. “Thoughts? What kinds of thoughts?”
He chuckled again, only with something darker and dangerously sexy this time. “You always were the daring type.”
“He who dares, wins,” she reminded him.
The smile on his face broadened and he leaned toward her until the warmth of his breath replaced that of his thumb against her lips. “Then I guess I should dare,” he said and brought his lips to hers.
The shock of his hard mouth against hers was quickly replaced by