Chương 8: Chapter 8
Time stands still. I forget how to breathe. I forget how to swallow. So, my eyes are stinging, and there's drool coming out of my mouth. I stick my finger in my ear and wiggle it around, because I'm sure I'm hearing things.
Mack finishes filling out the lottery card and calls Steve over. He pays for everything and picks up the bag of supplies. I finally get control over my mouth again. I wipe the drool off on my sleeve and take a sip of the Slurpee and a bite of the candy straw.
He puts his hand on the small of my back, and we walk out to his car. He opens the car door for me, but I slam it shut again and slug his arm.
"What do you mean, hitched? Where did that come from?" I demand.
Mack rubs the place on his arm where I punched him. "Isn't it the natural progression of all this?"
"Of all what?"
"This." He pushes me up against the car. His hands reach behind my thighs, and he lifts me up, fitting himself between my legs.
"People will see," I say.
"There's only one person I care about."
Mack brushes his lips against my neck, making my skin come alive. I've never reacted so strongly to a man. Either he's the most adept kisser in existence, or he really does it for me.
Off the charts chemistry.
Or could it be soulmates?
"No," I say, turning my head away from him. The "no" word is all it takes. Mack doesn't second guess me. He stops immediately and puts me down, gently.
"Sorry," he says.
"Too fast. It's all too fast." I talk down to the ground because I can't bear to make eye contact. I can't bear to see the emotion in his face. And I don't know how strong I can be when I'm faced with his desire. He has a certain effect on me that's disconcerting. Scary.
*
We pull out of the parking lot and drive toward the lake. The silence grows heavy between us. I'm torn between needing to explain myself and being a big chicken. I'm just about to come out on the side of being a big chicken when Mack breaks the silence.
"Was it the hitched part or the three part that freaked you out?"
"It was all the parts. This is going too fast. Just this morning, we were fighting over what I was going to eat for breakfast. Now you're talking about getting married and having a family." At the word "family," I choke.
Choke like I have a chicken bone stuck in my throat. Choke like an entire chicken is wedged in there. But I don't have anything stuck. It's just commitment that's got me gasping for air. I hack and sputter. Mack pounds on my back a couple of times.
Finally, a sip of my Slurpee calms me down.
"Okay. My bad," Mack says. "So, how about we make a deal?"
"What kind of deal?"
"We won't talk about you know what and the thing that shall not be named."
"Deal!" I shout. Phew. What a relief. My stress level plummets, and I breathe a lot easier. The overwhelmed feeling I've had for hours leaves me, and finally I can enjoy being with Mack.
"I'm not finished," he adds, making my stomach lurch. "We won't talk about any of it. However, if we happen to win the lottery tonight, we get married in the morning."
I explode with laughter. I roar with it. It's the best belly laugh I've had in years.
"If we win the lottery? We have more of a chance of getting hit by lightning twice in one spot," I giggle.
"So it's a deal?" He puts a hand out, and I shake it.
"Deal."
*
"This is a fishing boat?"
"I can fish from it."
It's not a fishing boat. I've seen my share of fishing boats, living my whole life in a small town by a lake. The lake is lousy with fish, and the lake is lousy with fishing boats.
But this is something altogether different. It's longer, for one thing, two stories, and it's flat on top. There's a complicated barbecue thing going on the upper deck. It looks like a...
"It looks like a house," I say.
Mack is holding my hand, and he gives it a little squeeze. "That's because it's a houseboat," he says.
"A houseboat," I repeat. "Like a yacht?"
"Nothing like a yacht. Totally different animal. Much more comfortable and perfect to glide around the lake, which is what we're going to do right now."
"Gliding sounds okay. Gliding doesn't sound like unbearable seasickness."
"Nobody gets seasick on Bessie's Castle." He points at the back of the boat where "Bessie's Castle" is written in big black letters.
"Who's Bessie?" I ask, horrified at how jealous I sound.
"My golden retriever. She died when I was sixteen. The love of my life."
I study him, trying to figure out if he's pulling my leg. "You named your boat for a dog?"
He nods. "The love of my life."
"I'm impressed, Mack. I love dogs, too."
"Come on," he says. "Let me impress you, again."
He helps me onto the boat, and we climb the stairs to the top deck. It really is like a house. Nicer than any house I've ever lived in. An outside kitchen takes up most of the deck. A huge stainless steel barbecue takes up most of the kitchen. Cushioned benches wind around the top deck, giving guests a bird's eye view of the cooking.
"All this for a Slim Jim and Doritos?" I ask.
"Those are for après l'amour. I'm making you a dinner to explode your taste buds."
"I'm not sure exploding taste buds is a good thing."
"Well, you know what I mean."
"What do you mean après l'amour?" I don't speak French, but I get the impression he's being presumptuous. "How do you know there's going to be an après or a l'amour in the first place?"
The sun is going down, and Mack is standing way too close to me. He's not standing at an I'm-going-to-make-dinner distance. He's at more like an are-you-going-to-be-on-top-or-shall-I distance. Totally inappropriate.
Inappropriate in a good way, of course. He smells great, like he has access to a pheromone machine. I take a step closer to him.
It may be my imagination, but I could swear he's gotten better looking. He's blown past Tatum Channing, and he's full on Chris Hemsworth, now.
And he's looking at me.
I mean, really looking at me. I wonder if he's thinking about what he's going to prepare for dinner, but I'm pretty sure he's thinking about something entirely different.
I'm thinking about something different, too.
"Remember when I said it's going too fast?" I ask.
"It's branded on my brain, like mad cow disease. What about it?"
"I lied."
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