By the time we exit the shower, I am a complete spaghetti noodle, practically worthless.
“How am I supposed to run errands after this?” I whine, weakly struggling into my clothes.
“Depending on what you’re doing, I can keep you company,” she suggests, lifting her brows.
“I have a feeling that would not lead to a lot of productivity.”
“Do you have to be productive all the time? Can’t you have one lazy Saturday?”
I already know what my answer is. She doesn’t even need to push. I want to spend whatever time I can with her.
I lift my chin at her. “Fine, get ready. But if you think I’m not gonna put you to work, think again.”
She chuckles, buttoning her plaid without a bra underneath.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” I complain, tracing my fingers over the peaked fabric.
She winks at me. “You didn’t say I couldn’t make it fun.”
Good point.
When we climb into my Ford Ranger—she actually does a pretty good job of using her cane to get in—a surge of energy hits. We haven’t even begun, but I’m already having a blast doing this with her.
I stop to grab a few things from my house and set up the coffee pot for my upstairs guest.
“I’ll help,” Mac says, hugging me from behind as I grind the coffee. I’m sure that’s supposed to be annoying, but damn if I don’t love the feel of her strong arms around mine.
The upstairs door opens, so I waddle to the bottom of the staircase with Mac attached. I’m about to call up when I realize it’s Freddy, my favorite EMT, making his way down. He’s wearing a short robe, showing off his hairy thighs, and his cheeks flush when he sees us at the bottom of the stairs.
Mac is still hugging me from behind, but Freddy wisely says nothing, instead grabbing the freshly brewed coffee.
Before he turns, a familiar voice yells down the stairwell, “Freddy, darling! What are you doing? I’m waiting for you.”
Mac leans into the staircase, her voice louder than it needs to be. “Don’t you worry, Mason. Freddy was just saying hi to us.”
I turn to her and cock my brow. “Don’t give him shit. He’s on vacation.”
“What she said,” Mason drawls, coming down the stairs wearing a pair of shorts and nothing else.
Who knew that the little guy was so built? Also…those shorts aren’t hiding very much.
I raise my chin at Freddy. “Mazel tov.”
He winks. “Toda.”
I curl my arm around Mac’s and direct her away from my visitors. She looks down at our connected limbs and smiles.
I wonder about Mason’s and Freddy’s reactions to us being affectionate with one another, but they’ve already made their way up to the top floor, barely aware of us at all.
Finished with task number one, we walk to the truck, and Mac pulls me in for a kiss before getting in on the passenger side.
Hoo, buddy. Am I in trouble.
We get to town and run a few errands together, picking up supplies for the house and the cabin, grabbing some lemon bars for later, and stopping in to check on Mrs. Bridgelock. Mac takes a seat as far away as she can from the Cabinet of Nightmares, as she’s taken to calling it, but Mrs. Bridgelock seems happy to see Mac again. By the time lunch rolls around, I am starving, and my patient is looking a little worse for wear.
“Want something hearty for lunch?” I ask, sneaking in a kiss as we climb back into the truck.
“Sounds great,” she says, grabbing my hand and kissing my knuckles.
