Playful Hearts (A Rocky Harbor Novel Book 4) Read online

  “I wear this to the gym. It’s fine.” She pulled the new shirt over her head and he stepped back, looking around to see who he had to beat up.

  “I didn’t take you for the shy type.”

  “I don’t care if people see me but they don’t need to be gawking at you.”

  “No one was gawking. No one even noticed.”

  “I would have.”

  “That’s because you’re a perv.”

  “No.” He picked up their trash and shoved it in his backpack. “It’s because you’re hot.”

  Mackenzie shook her head and took the water bottle he offered. “I’m going to use the bathroom one more time and I want to visit the gift shop as well.”

  They laughed at the silly touristy trap trinkets, all too familiar with the coastal version sold in the shops on Main Street in Rocky Harbor, and Mackenzie bought Katie a onesie that said ‘Someone who loves me climbed Mt. Washington.’ When they left the store, she surprised Blake with a gift as well.

  He pulled a shirt out of the bag and grinned. It was the same one he’d bought her, only in gray. “Really?”

  “Yup. If I have to wear mine you have to wear yours.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with the shirt I have on.” He looked down at his black Mud on the Rocks shirt, one of twenty he had at home.

  “There wasn’t anything wrong with my shirt either.”

  “You were complaining about it all morning.”

  “I was not.”

  “Was too.”

  “You’re sounding twelve again.”

  “Easy.” He grinned and caved. Giving her a taste of her own medicine, he stripped his shirt and took his time folding the sweaty thing and unzipping his backpack, storing it safely to one side, then zipping up his bag.

  Blake scratched his chest and took in the view, counting the mountains to distract himself from Mackenzie’s heated stare. The little catch in her breath hadn’t gone unnoticed. She was as affected by him as he was her. And two could play at that game.

  “Put your shirt on, hot shot. It’s time to go.” Mackenzie started down the steps that led to the trails and waited for him by the sign that indicated two trails. “You said we’re going down Lion’s Head?”

  She still wouldn’t look at him, so he tugged on his shirt and strapped on his backpack.

  “Since we’re doing the cutesy matching shirt thing, we’re going to take a selfie.”

  “Oh. My. God. You are twelve.”

  Blake took out his cell, took off her hat, tossed it aside, and held the phone out in front of them. “Smile.” She stuck out her tongue and he snapped a shot. Then took another when he kissed her cheek.

  “Enough. Get my hat. I have hat head now.”

  Blake picked up the Cabela’s hat and put it on his head, backward, tugged Mackenzie in a bear hug, and snapped another picture. And another. Just to piss her off. It was fun. When she elbowed him in the gut he put the phone down.

  “Okay, okay. Just trying to lighten the mood. You’re awful serious sometimes.”

  “Not everybody can play all day and not have to worry about family and responsibilities.” She took off down the trail, not looking back to see if he followed.

  The branch that had slapped him in the face earlier didn’t hurt as bad as the reality slap she just gave him.

  On the ride to the mountain he’d asked how her mother was doing but never even checked to see if Mackenzie was needed at her parents’ place this afternoon. And she had a business to run. So did he, but he had Colton as a fifty-fifty partner. Mackenzie ran Coast & Roast by herself and with a handful of part-time employees.

  Blake jogged after her, calling out, “Mack. I’m sorry. We can hustle down and I can get you to your mom if you—”

  “I’m not running down this mountain, Blake. It’s fine.”

  “Your mom?”

  “I can do her shopping tonight when I get home. I texted my dad on the way up to let him know I’d be gone all day.”

  “I’m sorry.” Blake touched her arm and held her until she stopped. “I know you’ve had a lot on your plate and wanted you to have a good time. No responsibilities or anything. I should have asked first.”

  “See. You say stuff like that and you’re going to get your bones jumped. Don’t be nice to me.”

  Blake grinned. “Being nice to you equals sex?”

  “No.”

  “But you just said…”

  “My mind isn’t thinking straight. It’s the thin air.”

  “It’s because I took my shirt off.”

  “Conceited much?”

  “A little.”

  Mackenzie chuckled as she walked ahead, shaking her head in amusement.

  Yeah. He was gonna get lucky tonight.

  Chapter Eight

  Blake

  When they got to the bottom of the mountain and had service again, Mackenzie called her father while Blake sat in the shade. Capping his water bottle, he leaned his back against the picnic table, his feet kicked out in front of him, and observed her transformation from exhausted and annoyed to relaxed and untroubled.

  The smile she wore when talking with her dad showed a softer side of her. Yeah, she was a daddy’s girl. Even though exhausted and dead on her feet, she paced along the grassy rest area, the hand that didn’t hold the phone moving about in animated conversation.

  Her laugh carried across the mountain and tickled a spot deep in Blake that hadn’t been touched before. The sex was amazing and would be more than a one-time deal. There was no way he’d let her put the kibosh on the sex. It wasn’t like he was itching for a relationship either, just a few more opportunities to roll around with Mackenzie, touch her sensitive areas and hear his name on her lips.

  The woman had more ticklish spots than the Pillsbury Dough Boy. He didn’t mean to tickle her during their last round of sex. The first two times were quick so when they’d gotten the sexual urgency out of their system he finally had the time to touch her all over.

  It was her sides that were the most vulnerable. At first when she’d jumped, he thought she was trying to get away from him. In a way she was. After he caressed the sides of her breasts and torso a few more times, she’d snorted and shied away from him. Blake had crawled after her and pinned her with his body.

  “Stop!” she’d cried.

  “What’s wrong?” He’d sat up, straddling her, and saw a lone tear fall from the side of her eye. “Did I hurt you?” His stomach had clenched, never meaning to cause her pain.

  “Don’t touch me there.”

  “Where?” He’d looked down with confusion where they were almost joined. She’d had no complaints before.

  “My sides. My ribs. I’m ticklish.”

  “Oh.” The devil lurked inside of him and he’d pinned her hands above her head, stroking her soft, sensitive sides with his mouth and tongue.

  “Seriously, Blake.” She’d squirmed and protested with adorable little squeaks. “You have to…stop.” Her knees had tried to come up as she attempted to curl herself into a ball and protect her sides.

  “Nu-uh.” He’d licked and bit her side gently, smiling when she squealed.

  “Blake!”

  “I love it when you scream out my name.”

  “I’m not screaming…that way. Stop, please.” She’d laughed and wiggled and kicked.

  “Why should I stop?”

  “Because if I’m laughing I’m not horny.”

  “Sounds to me like you need to work on your multi-tasking skills. I’m horny as hell and having a grand ol’ time.”

  “Blake,” she’d moaned as his mouth made a biting trail from her ribs to her breast.

  He didn’t think he could have been more turned on with the mingling sounds of laughter and moans. It was all he could do to make the third time last a few seconds longer than the time before.

  “You’re insatiable.” Mackenzie scowled down at him, her tall frame blocking the sun from his eyes as she pocketed her phone, bringing him
back to the present.

  “What?”

  “We spent the last six hours hiking the tallest mountain in New England and you have a hard-on in your pants.”

  Blake looked down at the bulge and shifted uncomfortably. “I told ya, it’s the yoga pants.”

  “You can’t even see my ass, so don’t give me that.”

  “I was thinking about your ticklish spots.” He grinned and stood, reaching out to touch her sides.

  Mackenzie jumped away. “Don’t you dare. I don’t have the energy to fight you right now. I’m beat.”

  “Perfect.” He stalked her as she stepped back.

  “Blake,” she warned. “I’m serious.”

  “Me too.” He took another step and she put out her hands in defense.

  “Blake.”

  “I like when you scream my name.”

  “I’m going to curse your name if you touch me.”

  He flashed her another wicked grin, his gaze dropping to her nipples. “Cold or turned on?”

  “I swear…”

  “I’ve heard. You have a foul mouth.”

  She continued walking backwards, and when his fingertips came in contact with her arm, she laughed and swore and screamed and ran off.

  Not to be beat by a girl, he gave pursuit, catching up with her in the parking lot. Mackenzie’s hands gripped the edge of the truck bed and her chest rose and fell with short breaths.

  “Seriously. My legs are killing me, my feet are a sweaty mess, and all I want is to fall in bed—” Mackenzie stopped herself and shook her head with amusement. “Alone.”

  “What about a shower?”

  “Yeah, I could use one of those as well.”

  “We can conserve water.”

  “Alone.”

  “Here’s the deal.” Damn, she was gorgeous. Sweaty dark ringlets outlined her face and stuck to her neck, her skin flushed from their chase. “My favorite brewery isn’t far from here. We’ll grab a drink and a few appetizers then head home. You can shower and go to bed alone, but I won’t hold it against you if you change your mind.”

  “And no more tickling?”

  Blake cupped his chin and scratched his lip with his finger, pretending to be contemplating his options. “No more tickling today. But again, you’re allowed to change your mind.”

  “I highly doubt it.”

  “So there’s hope?”

  ***

  They laughed while playing the trivia game at the pub and were exhausted by the time they got back to Rocky Harbor at dusk. Hanging out with Mackenzie was easy and fun. They shared a brewer’s sampler and a plate of wings.

  Most women he dated only sipped on wine or girly drinks. He liked that Mackenzie wasn’t afraid to try a dark ale and get her face and hands dirty with spicy wings. Blake didn’t do high maintenance or the walking-on-eggshell bit, not wanting to be in constant worry if he’d offend a woman. He wanted to be himself.

  A guy. A guy who liked to hunt and fish and do outdoorsy things. A guy who didn’t do poetry and flowers or romantic gestures. He liked to have fun, preferably outside. Unless it was in the bedroom. Although Blake had some awesome fantasies about having sex on a mountain with Mackenzie.

  Or a lake. Sex in the water was different. He’d done it before but could hardly recall who the woman was. A fitness buff like himself, on the obstacle course crew. They weren’t looking for anything long-term. Just a good time while he was in…Ohio? Maybe it was the Pennsylvania tour. Possibly Virginia.

  Virginia, that was her name. They had some good times, but nothing like what he’d experienced so far with Mackenzie.

  When he pulled into the parking lot behind her coffee shop, he shut off the ignition and turned to the sleeping beauty next to him. Her mouth hung open a tad and a soft snore escaped her plump lips.

  He had yet to kiss her today. Fourteen hours with the woman and no lip-lock or cheap feels. Instead they’d hiked, laughed, fought, teased, and ate together. It was…nice.

  Quietly slipping out of the truck, he rounded the hood and opened her door and unlocked her seat belt.

  Mackenzie came to life. “Huh? Oh. We’re home.”

  “Yeah, Cupcake, we are.”

  Still in a daze, Mackenzie slid to the ground and Blake led her to the door. They stood facing it, him waiting for her to get the keys.

  “Oh, sorry.” She pawed through her bag and pulled them out.

  Blake took them from her and tried two before the third one unlocked the door. Their feet were heavy and slow on the stairs and Mackenzie stood quietly while he tried out a few keys before finding the right one to her apartment.

  They slipped inside and Blake closed the door behind them as Mackenzie slid her feet like a zombie to her bathroom. He heard the water turn on and followed the sound.

  “You okay?” Blake watched as she stripped her shirt and sports bra over her head and he held his breath when she bent over to untie her sneakers.

  Unaware or not caring about his presence, she shimmied her pants and underwear down her legs, not with seductive intent but in a move that looked like it cost all her strength. She pulled the curtain aside and stepped into the shower.

  Blake closed his eyes and did his best not to picture the warm stream of water and bubbles cascading down her breasts and belly to the juncture of her thighs. Soft moans mingled with the steamy air in the bathroom.

  He needed to either strip and join her in the shower or get the hell out of dodge. Knowing he’d lose all restraint if he joined her—hell, if he heard her—Blake backed away and let himself out of the apartment.

  He deserved a freaking medal.

  The ride home was painful as hell. As soon as he walked through his front door he unbuttoned his pants and shucked his shirt in the hallway. Like Mackenzie, he struggled to remove his pants and welcomed the cold water when he stepped in the shower.

  He wasn’t smart enough to let it run and warm up first. It would have required too much thought, too much focus, and right now his mind had one track.

  Mackenzie.

  After a long, unsatisfying shower, he downed some more water, loaded up on carbs, and hit the sack. Colton had covered his ass today at the gym so he could play with Mackenzie. The rest of the week would be long, especially if his quads were going to give him payback for hiking the six-thousand foot mountain.

  The following morning came too soon. Blake took another shower to help him wake up and paddled out to his measly kitchen in his boxers. While whisking eggs for his omelet, he sniffed.

  An unfamiliar musk, a cheap perfume, lingered in the air. He thought he smelled it last night but attested it to sexual frustration and fatigue. On edge, he opened the fridge and took out onions, peppers, and mushrooms and began dicing.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up as his eyes darted around his kitchen. Something was out of place but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He dumped his vegetables in the pan and opened a drawer to look for a spatula.

  The spoons were messed up. He’d never be accused of having OCD or being terribly neat, but he knew how to keep his silverware separate. A tablespoon rested on top of the forks.

  Odd. Maybe he’d tossed the silverware in the drawer haphazardly the other morning before work?

  Blake put the spoon back in its spot and the tingling sensation trickled down his spine. The back of the spoon had burnt marks on it. Just like…

  No, he wouldn’t freak out. Silverware stained and rusted all the time. Especially the cheap stuff he picked up at Walmart when he moved in a few months ago.

  Slamming the drawer shut, he finished making his breakfast and tossed it on a paper plate. He ate while he walked around his shabby place, looking for signs of an intruder.

  His flat screen still hung on the wall and his laptop still sat on the couch, plugged in and charged. Covered in a trail of chip crumbs. Blake swiped them off on to the floor and noticed a granola bar wrapper peeking out between the cushions. The onions turned sour in his stomach.

&
nbsp; No longer in the mood to eat, he dumped the rest of his omelet in the trash and checked out the small spare bedroom. No one had touched his weights, or folded his clean laundry. Another inspection of his bedroom and his neck prickled again.

  Doreen had taught all her children to never shove clean laundry into a dresser without folding it. “You might as well leave it in a big, wrinkled heap. Dresser drawers deserve folded clothes,” she’d said a thousand times growing up.

  Blake being Blake, had developed a habit of digging for a shirt through a clean pile of laundry on top of his dresser. Who cared about the wrinkles? If he had a minute, or if he felt like it, he’d fold a shirt or two and stick them in a drawer, just to make Doreen happy.

  The pile of whites—after washing a red Red Sox shirt with his white shirts and socks, he’d learned early on not to mess with mixing colors—were still mounded on his dresser. Pulling open the drawer assigned to T-shirts, he nearly choked on his eggs.

  While there was some semblance of folding, the two stacks of shirts had been rifled through. No longer neat and orderly, the orange Under Armor shirt was rumpled and the Nike shirt on top of the stack next to it was just as disorderly.

  He didn’t do it often, but when he folded and put his shirts away, they were neat and organized. Blake didn’t do things half-assed.

  Go big or go home. And someone had been in his home.

  Only his brothers had a key to his humble abode and he highly doubted they’d go shopping through his drawers. After putting on the orange tee and pulling on a pair of gym shorts and socks, he padded out to his living room and dropped down to the hand-me-down couch Colton had given him.

  It was a piece of crap. Luke had given his old couch to Colton when he’d moved back, who graciously offered it to Blake when he moved in with Ellie. Not much else in Colton’s old tin can trailer was worth salvaging. They tore down the heap and had a hell of a bonfire before turning Colton’s land into Mud on the Rocks.

  Picking up his cell, he fired off a text to each brother asking if they’d been by. Graham replied immediately.

  Haven’t had my tetanus shot in a while.