Trouble Maker: A MacKenzie Family Novel (The MacKenzie Family) (10 page)

“Flynn is mine,” Declan said. “He’s four going on forty. He thinks sitting at the kid table with his cousins is beneath him.”

Someone directed her to a chair—Cat, if she remembered right from the introductions—who was Thomas’s wife. It was a huge and rowdy group, a million conversations going on at the same time, and she had a hard time keeping up with any of them. It had been too long since she’d been a part of something like this, and it was all a little bit overwhelming.

It hadn’t gone past her notice that Shane hadn’t come to dinner, and it hadn’t gone past anyone else’s notice either. He was on most everyone’s minds and she was getting slammed with a variety of emotions where the youngest MacKenzie son was concerned. Worry, guilt, frustration, anger, disappointment, sadness, fear, and despair. Despite the smiles on their faces and the laughter, the underlying emotions all but slapped her in the face until she thought she’d weep with the sorrow of it all.

The weight of those emotions pressed down on her and she pushed her food around on her plate, unable to eat. The thing that worried her the most was that she couldn’t see Shane in anyone’s future. There was just darkness there. Her visions could change depending on choices people made in life, but for now they had every reason to be concerned for Shane’s well-being.

It was when she was about to leave that she heard Beckett’s name brought up. The MacKenzies all shared equal responsibility for the MacKenzie Ranch, but at Big Sky Ranch there was only Beckett to oversee everything. He had a foreman and ranch hands of course, but Beckett wasn’t one to not be involved in some way.

There was talk of trying to get him loose from his cows and get together like old times, and Marnie would’ve been lying if she hadn’t purposefully slowed pulling on her coat and hat to listen to the conversation.

Beckett had occupied her thoughts since she was sixteen years old, and seeing a glimpse of him the other day as he stood in the middle of the street, embarrassed and angry, was enough to bring the dreams back her subconscious had been too embarrassed to have when she was a girl.

Even though Clive had been her lover, he’d never made her feel like what she’d felt like during the vision she’d had of her and Beckett together. In fact, Clive hadn’t seemed overly interested in sex with her at all. He’d wanted her talent—was envious of it and jealous—and being intimate with her only made him resent her more.

She’d watched him from the safety of her shop, but it had only taken one glance at Beckett standing in the middle of the street to have all those feelings and needs rush to the surface again. Needs she’d repressed since the vision of the two of them under the willow had fizzled to nothing.

Just that quickly she saw them again, a hot, erotic encounter that was nothing like the first vision. It was fast and hard—sweaty bodies and tangled limbs desperate for more of each other. And just as quickly as it appeared it was gone, and she was standing shaken and breathless in the empty shop.

Her pulse had raced and her body throbbed with unquenched desire, and it was everything she could do to stumble to the little bathroom off to the side and close the door behind her. Her body was hot to the touch and all she needed was a little relief. It had been so long since she’d felt that kind of pleasure. Never with Clive. And only in her mind with Beckett. A sad and sorry existence to be sure.

She hadn’t cared that it was the middle of the day and that workers might come back from their lunch break at any moment. She’d only thought about the pleasure—and that at some point in time she’d finally get to feel him against her for real.

It had only taken seconds—a quick slip of the hand beneath the lace of her panties—and her fingers thrummed quickly against her clit, bringing her to a fast, hard orgasm. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and leaned against the door so her knees wouldn’t buckle.

And then she’d heard the rattle of the doorknob and the afterglow of release turned to panic at being caught. She straightened her clothes and washed her hands, and then looked at herself in the mirror. She saw flushed cheeks and eyes that held a slumberous, dreamy quality to them, and her breath came in shallow pants.

She hadn’t done anything wrong. It was a completely normal reaction and she had a right to pleasure. A right to a fulfilled life. She’d had years of therapy just to be able to say that to herself.

By the time she’d gotten herself under control, whoever had been at the door was long gone.

Brought out of her reverie, Marnie hurried and put her coat on, feeling the same rush of instant arousal as the MacKenzies spoke about Beckett, and she hugged everyone quickly as she made her exit. Her dreams had gotten a lot more exciting of late, and she couldn’t wait to get back to them.

Chapter Nine

Construction workers hammered away in the back room, and Marnie’s head pounded along with every stroke of the hammer. For days she’d listened to the same tune—the whine of the saw and the constant whir of drills. But there was progress. At least she assumed it was progress. She supposed it was one of those instances where things had to look worse before they could look better.

The wood floor was covered with drop cloths, and ladders and tools and sawhorses were spread throughout. They’d built a wall between the reception area and the studio space, and they were putting up two more walls in the far back corner where her small office would be. The original wood floors would be refinished once everything was painted.

She’d need to hire a part-time receptionist—that was already on her long list of things to do before opening day. But the most pressing job was putting together the big desk that would be a permanent piece of furniture in the reception area.
If
she ever managed to get it put together. She was starting to regret telling the deliveryman that she could do it herself. But she’d wanted to have a hand in the building of her studio and this was her way of doing it. The only problem was it didn’t look like all the instructions had been included in the box and some of the parts seemed to be missing.

“Shit,” she mumbled under her breath and then looked up guiltily when someone knocked on the door.

Grant MacKenzie was James and Mary MacKenzie’s second oldest child, a couple of years younger than Cade and a couple years older than Declan. He also owned MacKenzie Construction and was in charge of all the chaos going on in her studio.

She left the pieces of desk and tools on the floor, wiped her dusty palms on her jeans, and went to answer the door. She stepped back to let him inside and the cool breeze from outside felt good against her gritty skin, the fresh air a relief from dust she’d been breathing all morning.

“Hey, Marnie. Just came to check on the progress and make sure everything is on schedule.” He looked around with a carpenter’s eye and nodded his head. “It’s really starting to shape up.”

Grant was quieter than his siblings. He was a soft spoken and a patient man, but there was no question that he was the boss. He had the height of the MacKenzies, but his hair was dark blond and his eyes a soft brown.

“I think it’s going well,” she answered. “I’ll probably be done putting this desk together by the time we’re ready to open.” She winced and then said, “Maybe.”

He grimaced and looked at the mess she’d made of things on the floor. “I’ve put that particular desk together before a couple of times. Looks like half the instructions are missing and some of the hardware. I’m supposed to meet Annabeth for lunch, but she’s stuck with customers for the moment, so I’m at loose ends.”

Annabeth was his wife and she owned the little clothing boutique almost directly across from her studio. She sold some beautiful things, but she was out of Marnie’s price range at the moment. And photographers didn’t exactly wear their best clothes to work when they spent most of their day crawling around unusual places to get the best shots.

“Why don’t we make a trade?” he said. “I’ll put together this desk for you and you can hang your sign.”

He held up the hand-carved wooden sign that said
Captured Moments
etched on each side.

“Oh, it’s finished,” she said, genuinely surprised. Excitement thrummed inside of her. It was starting to be real. She was back and she was opening a business for herself. “It’s beautiful. Just how I envisioned it. Thank you so much.” She reached out to take it from him and gently traced the letters. “You’ve got a deal. That beast of a desk is all yours.”

Her smile was relaxed and easy, and she realized despite her fears of coming back to Surrender that she was home. Good or bad. This was what home felt like. What she’d been missing all the years in between.

She grabbed the ladder she’d propped against the wall and took it outside while Grant rolled up his sleeves and got to work on the desk. She would’ve felt him coming if she hadn’t been mentally cursing the little hook that refused to cooperate as she tried to hang the sign.

“Need some help?” a familiar voice said from below.

She let go of the sign to catch her balance and teetered back and forth, bumping her head on the sign as it dangled down from one hook and swayed back and forth.

“Easy there,” Beckett said, his voice soothing and calm. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention.” She looked down at his hands steadying the ladder and then took a deep breath before finally looking him in the eye. She couldn’t hold his gaze for long—there was too much between them—but she did it and then focused on climbing down the ladder so she could be on solid ground.

He looked good, was all she could think as her brain struggled to catch up to reality. He’d grown from the lanky and fit teenager she remembered to a man who looked like he’d gotten his muscles from hard work instead of the inside of a gym. A soft blue shirt stretched across broad shoulders and he wore a darker blue flannel over it like a jacket. His jeans were worn and his boots had seen better days.

His hair was gilded at the tips and the waves were unruly and a little bit long. His face was bronzed from the sun and lines fanned out from the corners of his eyes when he smiled. There was a sickle-shaped white scar at his chin that hadn’t been there when she’d known him before.

“I’d heard you were back in town,” he said.

She rolled her eyes before she could help herself. “You and everyone else. Lila Rose spread the news faster than wildfire.”

He smiled and said, “My daddy always used to say find what you’re good at and stick with it. At least she’s consistent. News like that is what keeps this town going.”

“I know,” she said. “I haven’t been gone that long. And I witnessed your little showdown the other day with Hazel. I guess I should probably thank you for taking some of the attention away from me.”

He winced and she could feel the turmoil inside him. Beckett had never liked for anyone to hurt or be hurt, even if they deserved it, and she immediately regretted bringing it up.

“She’s lying, you know,” she said instead.

“I know. But it makes me feel better to hear you confirm it. She’s got too much pride and doesn’t like to lose, and she’s vindictive on top of it. It’s not a good combination. But my reputation will weather the storm. She’s going to have to live with that little stunt the rest of her life.”

Marnie almost asked him what he’d seen in Hazel in the first place, but she took a step back and told herself it wasn’t any of her business what he did in his personal life.

It was different seeing her up close and in person rather than in pictures he’d found on the Internet.

The pictures didn’t show that she was just a little too thin. Or that when she let down her guard, sadness and defeat crept into her eyes. He’d known her as a child and a teenager. And even though he hadn’t known about the abuse or what kind of hell she’d lived in, she’d still managed to have that solid core and determination that had been part of her appeal. Now, she just looked—tired.

He’d never gotten over what had happened fifteen years before—from their first kiss to the moment he watched Harley drag her away, to the second he got the news that the truck had been found burned to a crisp at the bottom of Hollow Gorge and two bodies had been found inside. He’d literally been sick to his stomach at the thought of what she must’ve endured.

And now that he was looking at her again, face to face, he wanted to hold her close and make the sadness disappear. He wanted her trust and a second chance at what they’d started so long ago. He wouldn’t push her, though. She looked like a trapped animal, her eyes wide and her stance leaning back, looking for a way to escape if she needed one. The first order of business was to get her to trust him again.

“Are you going to let me help you with your sign or are you going to be stubborn about it?”

“I can do it,” she said, her back stiffening.

“I know you can do it. But sometimes it’s nice to take help when it’s offered. It’s called being neighborly.”

She stared at him a few seconds and then stepped out of the way. “I wouldn’t want to be accused of being unneighborly.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” he said, climbing onto the ladder and bending the hook just a little so it fit the sign better. “You think Lila is talking about you now, just wait until she hears about that.”

Beckett got the sign attached and then climbed back down the ladder. They both stared at it instead of each other, and the significance of what that sign meant weighed heavy on him. That sign meant permanence. She was back and she was back to stay. He could be patient. However long it took.

“I’ll tell you what,” he said. “Because I don’t want people around here to get the wrong impression about you being unneighborly, I’ve got an idea I want to run by you.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” she said deadpan, an eyebrow arching and a sparkle in her eyes that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

“Do you cook?”

She paused a second before answering. “I’ve been known to.”

“What about baking? Do you make pies? Cakes? Brownies?”

“I can’t imagine what you’re getting at, Hamilton, but I think you’re up to funny business.”