“One more state. That’s all we needed.”
Mack was beginning to understand why Liv lived here. This was pure entertainment.
“So you and Livvie are dating?” Rosie asked.
Water sprayed from Liv’s mouth. “God no.”
“That’s too bad. It’s been a long time since Liv had a man.”
“Rosie,” Liv whined.
Mack grinned again. “Is that right?”
Liv sat up straight. “I don’t want a man. I don’t have time for a man. They’re needy, clingy, and never keep their promises.”
Mack whistled. “Damn, girl. Who hurt you?”
“The patriarchy,” she deadpanned.
“So what brings you by, then?” Hop said.
“I’m trying to help her.”
Liv shoved a bite of food into her mouth. “I don’t need his help.”
“What’s this about?” Rosie asked.
“Mack here thinks he’s Superman and wants to swoop in and save the damsel in distress.”
“And Olivia here”—a booted foot nailed him in the shin under the table—“thinks she can take someone like Royce Preston down all by herself. I’m trying to convince her that she’s going to need help.”
“He might be right, Liv,” Rosie said.
“I can handle this,” Liv said, with a pointed glare in his direction.
Rosie shook her head, lips tight. “I can’t believe we’re still fighting this shit.”
Hop sighed. “Here we go again.”
Rosie pointed her fork at Hop. “You men need to get after your own. We’ve been fighting this shit too long.”
Hop held up his hands. “What’re you yelling at me for? I didn’t do it. I’ve never sexually harassed a woman in my life.”
“Oh, don’t you pull that not all men crap with me. The reason men like Royce Preston get away with it is because every other man in the world enables them.”
“How’d I become the bad guy?”
Mack cleared his throat. “I believe what Rosie is trying to say is that bad guys get away with it because the good guys look the other way.”
He met Liv’s surprised gaze and shrugged.
Hop shook his head. “Bad guys have always existed and always will.”
“Only because good guys let them.”
“Now listen here,” Hop said, getting all blustery, “I was putting dirtbags who hurt women in prison when you were still in diapers. So don’t come in here and lecture me, son.”
Rosie slammed down her fork. “And this is my table, Hop, so you’d better be politer to my guests if you want to keep sitting at it.”
Liv kicked him again under the table.
Mack held up his hands. “I apologize. I was rude.”
“You were no such thing,” Rosie said. “He needed to hear that.”
Hop muttered under his breath and returned to his food. Rosie put on a bright smile. “So your mom is moving to Nashville?”
“She is.” He smiled. “She’s actually flying out next weekend to look at houses. She’d love a place like this, but I’m trying to convince her to get something closer to my house.”
“Oh, how fun. You should bring her by and let her see the farm.”
Liv sat up straight. “What?”
“That sounds amazing, Rosie.” Mack winked. “I just might do that.”
“We’d love to have her.”
Dinner continued with a steady stream of mindless chatter about the farm, but every few seconds, Mack caught Liv shooting daggers at him across the table. When they were finally finished eating, he thanked Rosie for the delicious meal and offered to help clean up.
“You two go on,” Rosie said. “Hop will help me.”
Hop grumbled something impolite, and Mack didn’t want to wait around to see how Rosie responded. He stood. “Liv, shall we?”
Liv puffed out another one of those long-suffering sighs. She led him outside and back to his car. She stopped by the driver’s door and folded her arms across her chest.
“What’s up with your shitty mood all the time?” he teased, because he was quickly finding that teasing her was one of life’s great pleasures.
“Hmm, let’s see.” She cocked a hip and pretended to think. “I worked my ass off to be a pastry chef, and now I’m back to searching for a job.”
“I offered you a job.”
“My old boss is out there sexually harassing women—”
“Which I offered to help you do something about.”
“And Jessica hasn’t returned any of my messages.”
He grinned and leaned closer. “Which I have an answer for.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just thought you’d be interested to know that I know where to find her.”
Her mouth dropped open.
Mack twirled his keys around his finger. “Meet me at Temple tomorrow at three. We’ll go together.”
“I don’t like the together part of that sentence.”
Mack winked. “You keep fighting it, Liv. But you’re going to start to like me.”
He could practically hear the eye roll.
“Afraid my charm will start to get under your skin if you spend too much time with me?”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there at three.”
He climbed behind the wheel and shut his door. She stood in the driveway and watched him leave.
It was a petty thought, but he smiled with the realization that he’d finally been the one to walk away from her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The next afternoon, Mack heard the clunk-clunk of his manager’s chunky-heeled boots making a loud beeline for his office as soon as he arrived.
Sonia produced far more noise than seemed possible for a woman who stood barely five feet tall and couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. But Sonia walked like she lived—pissed off and deliberate. Which sounded like someone else he was getting to know. She and Liv were either going to start a girl gang or kill each other.
Sonia appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips. “What are you doing here so early?”
Mack lifted his chin to indicate he wanted her to come inside. “Shut the door. I need to talk to you.”
She whined. “Is this going to take long? Because Joe fucked up the bourbon order, so unless you’re here to save my ass, I don’t have time for a chat.”
“You do remember that I’m your boss, right?”
“Yeah, for all the good it does me. You made any progress on hiring a new bartender yet?”
Mack crossed his arms, feeling smug and looking forward to proving it. “I just might have, actually.”
Sonia paused before asking skeptically, “What kind of progress?”
“I know someone who needs a job.”
“Great. When can he start?”
“She.”
“When can she start?”
“Well, I haven’t actually convinced her to take the job yet. Or even asked her if she wants it.”
Sonia grunted. “I don’t have time for this.”
Mack nodded again at the chair in front of his desk. “I really do need to talk to you, though.”
His serious tone raised the maturity level in the room. Sonia shut the door and sat down. “This sounds serious.”
“It is,” he said. “I need this to stay between us.”
The maturity didn’t last long. “Oh God, you got someone pregnant.”
“What? For fuck’s sake. No.”
“Good. Because I am not ready to be an aunt or anything, and Lord knows I am no one’s idea of a godmother.”
“Can you stop talking for a minute?”
She sank against the chair. “I’m all ears.”
“I mean it, Sonia. You can’t speak a word of this to anyone.”
“Fuck you. When have I ever—”
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. I just—this is serious.”
“Then what the hell is taking so long? Spit it out.”
He picked up a pen and twirled it. “You know Royce Preston, right?”
She fake gagged.
“I take it that’s a yes.”
“I only know of him. Why?” She groaned and tilted her head. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going into business with him or something. I swear to God, I’ll quit. Like, right fucking now.”
“Mind if I finish what I was saying?”
“You better, because I will not let you sell your soul like that.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Just out of curiosity, why?”
Sonia shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s something about him that makes my vagina want to send out a cease-and-desist email.”
“Interesting visual.”
Sonia pointed at her crotch. “The vag doesn’t lie.”
Given the context of their conversation, it seemed especially inappropriate to be talking about her vag for any reason. “Have you ever heard any actual stories of him, you know . . .”
She squinted. “What?”
“You know.”
“Chaining teenage girls up in his basement? Selling Beanie Babies on eBay? You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“Sexual harassment.”
Sonia’s eyes narrowed further. “What is going on?”
“I just heard a rumor.”
“About sexual harassment?”
“Along those lines, yeah.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
Well it had surprised him, and that bothered him. How had he missed it? He’d known Royce for, what, five years? And though they weren’t friends by any definition, they ran in the same circles. Played in charity golf tournaments together. Attended the same Chamber of Commerce parties. Rubbed elbows at sporting events. In all that time, he’d never once seen anything that had given him a sexual harasser vibe. Yet Sonia had picked up on it without even knowing the guy. Were women just born with a radar for that kind of thing? Or did they just develop it through life the hard way?