It occurs to me that she might not realize how big a gossip this entire town really is. I haven’t seen anyone try to put her on social media after my initial scolding, but I don’t know if that’ll hold if she continues to look at me the way she’s looking at me right now.
Ah, well.
A few minutes later, we pull up to The Skiing Bison, and Mac grins at the hunting cabin-meets-steakhouse vibe of the place.
“This is my favorite kind of restaurant. Not shiny, not new, not corporate, probably a couple of pretty decent health code violations in the back…perfect.”
“You bet. I think the owner scared off the health inspector the last time he was here. Pretty sure he gave her top marks with a shotgun shoved up against his head.”
Max slaps her thigh, cracking up. “I love it. I definitely need to make sure to give Mason a bonus for booking me here.”
“Oh, you don’t have control over where you go?” I ask, thinking that’s awfully weird for someone who clearly doesn’t like to be told what to do.
“I give him a general idea of the places I want to go, venues I’ve never played before, places I won’t ever play again. He takes that, comes up with an itinerary, and then sprinkles in a couple of nice surprises for me. This was the smallest stop on tour, and while it doesn’t financially make much sense for me to stop here, I think he knew I needed the break.”
“Well, you got a little bit more of a break than you bargained for,” I rib once again, highly aware that she is just a few weeks from flying the nest.
“I did need a break, but I also needed a new perspective,” she says, grabbing my hand.
“Yeah?” I ask, telling my heart to stop assuming.
She’s just being nice. Don’t read into it.
“Yeah. Guess I needed a bossy, secretly super-talented, multitasking, slightly Machiavellian genius to show me the error of my ways.”
“Hey, I probably saved a few of those talented brain cells of yours with my bossy ways. Show some respect,” I grumble, kissing her shoulder.
“Oh, I respect you. Immensely,” she says as we walk up to the hostess stand.
Charlene, the worst of the town gossips, goggles at our joined hands, her brows nearly hitting her hairline.
“Table for two?”
Where I enjoy Mac’s smirk, Charlene’s annoys me.
She leads us to a nice table. “Lucy’ll be your waitress,” she says, not even trying to hide her grin.
I lean in, and Mac mirrors the gesture.
“Ten bucks says she makes this a Facebook post,” I whisper conspiratorially.
Mac chuckles. “I’m not worried about it.”
“No?” I ask, incredulous. “Won’t this ruin your reputation as a ladies’ lady?”
The thought ruins my appetite, but I’m desperately trying to keep it light.
“God, I hope so,” she says, bringing my knuckles to her lips.
I suck in a breath, unsure how to take what she’s just said.
“Oh, would you look at that?” Mac jokes. “I shocked the gorgeous woman with the long brown hair and pretty titties. This is a banner day.”
I open my mouth to respond, no idea what the hell I would say, when Lucy comes up to the table, pen in hand.
I look down and—"Lucy! How are you even standing now?” I ask, gesturing around her rather large belly.
“This is my last shift. For the next two weeks, I’ll be resting at home while Joni waits on me hand and foot.”
