Winning Love (21 page)

Next thing Mac knew, Gayle was in the drunk’s arms, his mouth all over hers, and Mac saw red. Slamming down his glass, he yanked the fucker around and clocked him one on the jaw. The drunk crumbled on the spot. Mouth dropped open, Gayle stared down, then looked up at Mac with an expression that clearly said, “What the
hell
are you doing?” then stared back down at the guy.

Mac threw up his hands. What the fuck had he done wrong?
He
wasn’t the one mauling her, that asshole was.

“Kevin,” she said as she stooped beside him. Hot, potent jealousy flared bright at her obvious concern for the dickweed. “Are you okay?”

Mac clenched his teeth.

Kevin
rubbed his jaw. “Holy shit. Gayle, did you see that? I just had a CMC fighter punch me. How fucking cool is that?”

She rolled her eyes. “He’s fine.”

As she stood, she didn’t even glance in Mac’s direction, just marched her beautiful, furious ass out of the bar. And all Mac could do was follow, wondering where the fuck he’d gone wrong.

T
he tension in the car was palpable. Gayle shook her foot with all the anger she was feeling as she stared out the window of the back seat. While Mac drove, Lance fiddled with the music stations, most likely because he wanted out of the car.

Gayle did not understand what had crawled up Mac’s ass. Yeah, Kevin had kissed her. He was drunk. There had been no reason to punch him, especially when throwing the hardest, fastest punch was how Mac made a living. It was totally unfair and uncalled for. That was probably the first punch Kevin had ever taken. If Mac would’ve just chilled out for a damn minute, she would’ve handled the situation on her own.

Mac parked the Jeep behind Lance’s house. His friend jumped out and was gone within seconds. She opened her door, intent on doing the same.

“Stay in the car, Gayle.”

She stared at the back of his head. Yeah, she found the dominating thing hot in bed, but now? Not so much.

“Yeah. Screw you, Mac.”

She hopped out, slammed the door, sent him an eat-shit expression through the driver’s side window, then stormed off across the field.

She’d made it halfway to her house before he came up behind her.

“You are such a pain in the ass!” he yelled.

She turned but continued walking backward. “Why? Because I didn’t obey and sit like a good doggie? If you want me to stick around while
you
are being a complete pain in the ass, don’t
tell
me what to do,
ask
me, or you’re going to get the exact opposite. Do you understand?”

He thrust a hand through his hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re right. I apologize. Gayle, I would like to talk about tonight please.”

“That’s better.” She stopped. “What the hell got into you?”

He strode up to her, put his hand on her lower back, pivoted her around again, and led her to the bottom step of her stoop. He linked his fingers between his knees and hung his head. “I got jealous.”

“There was no reason to be jealous of Kevin.”

“It wasn’t actually him. It was something he said to me before you walked up.”

“What?”

“He told me to enjoy you now, because you would drop me and move on fast. He called me your current boy toy.”

“Did he, now?”

“He also alluded to the fact he’d like a second go at you, right before he grabbed and kissed you, thus, my momentary chest-pounding moment.” He was silent for a moment. “You date a lot, it seems.”

It was a statement, but she answered, “Yes,” anyway.

“Why?”

As long as they were being brutally honest… “Better to be the leaver than the leavee.”

She could almost hear his teeth grind. “I’m hoping there’s more behind those words than smug bitch.”

Gayle exhaled. Was she really going to tell him all the sordid details? Studying his hanging head, she realized, yeah, she was. He already knew about Sam, and about him dying in the tornado with her family, but not the rest. Not the part that still drove her.

“Sam was my first love. We were together for almost eight years. We made it through a lot of hurdles most high school sweethearts can’t get past. If he hadn’t died, we’d be married now. But he did die. He left me. Not willingly, but that’s what happened.”

“It must have been tough on you.”

Squinting, she looked out across the yard. “It took me a long time to date again, to dig out of the grief and find myself. Two years, in fact. Then I met Brian. We had a whirlwind relationship and I moved in with him four months later. A year after that, he kicked me out. Told me I was a cold woman who was too career-driven to be good wife material for any sane man.”

Mac scowled. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

She shrugged. “I
was
working on my doctorate at the time.” She pulled at a thread on her jeans. “So I picked up the pieces of my life for a second time. Six months later, I met Mark. We had tons in common. He had a master’s in meteorology. He was also a storm chaser. We went on so many chases together. I thought maybe I’d finally met my kindred spirit. I loved Mark. Truly thought about a future for the first time since Sam died. We were together six months when I caught him in bed with a co-worker of his. His explanation? I knew how to have fun. But he needed someone more serious.”

Mac swore, but a sarcastic laugh escaped her.

“For the third time in four years, my heart was broken. And I was tired of it. I’ve spent the last two years being Gayle Matthews. Making no connections, but enjoying a warm body from time to time, then moving on to the next. It works for me.”

Mac was silent a long time. “And what about me?”

“What about you?”

“Me. Us. What about
us
?”

“Just a few weeks ago you made it extremely clear to me that this relationship is temporary, and you aren’t looking for anything more. I thought we agreed that’s what we both want. Has that changed?”

She held her breath. Why she wanted him to say it
had
changed was beyond her. The odds were stacked against them in every possible way, even if they attempted to make a go of…more.

He turned and regarded her seriously. “Honestly, I can’t answer that yet. But I can tell you for the first time in four years,
I’m
thinking of a future—with you, Gayle.”

She swallowed hard, her head warring with her heart. Her head won.

“How could it ever work between us, Mac? I’m not going to give up storm chasing. How could I ask you to live with my job when I know exactly how you’d feel every time I leave to go after a promising system? On top of that, I won’t move away from Kansas. My life’s work is here, which means you would have to come back here to live. What about
your
career? You would have to completely uproot yourself. Again.”

He made a growling noise in his throat and looked away.

She peered at him for a long moment. “Seriously, can you see yourself accepting any of that? Truly accepting it?”

He turned to regard her. “I can train anywhere, Gayle. As for the rest of it, I’ve thought about all of that. Trust me, I’ve been thinking of nothing else lately. And…a part of me thinks I could.”

A
part
thinks. Not that he’d actually do it. “So, you’re still not sure.”

“No, I’m not. But I
am
sure I’m starting to have feelings for you.”

The desperation to put distance between them, the need to save herself from further inevitable heartache, had her trying to convince him otherwise. “Maybe you’re just confused. Maybe all you’re feeling is gratitude. Have you thought about that? I
am
the first woman you’ve met who’s gotten past your defenses. Not tooting my own horn here, but…I didn’t just get past them, I’ve brought them down.”

He slowly nodded. “You have.”

She turned toward him and took his hand. “You haven’t had time to get to know
this
Mac yet—the type of man you’ll be, now that you are no longer hiding behind those walls. I’m most likely nothing more than the wrecking ball that freed you.”

“Or maybe you were the
only
one who could free me, because you were the only one with the power over me to do it. Maybe it’s
you
I need in order to be the man I’ll become.”

Panic clawed at her chest. “What are you saying?”

“Something selfish. That I want the chance to figure all of this out without worrying you’ll get scared and run. I want to be confident you’re completely in this with me.”

“So
you
can leave when you decide I’m no longer what you want.”

Frustration crossed his face. “No. Damn it. My life has been turned upside down in the span of a month. I’m allowed to be confused. I didn’t even want to come here—Kansas was the last place I ever wanted to be. Now? I’m actually thinking about moving back, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“Mac—”

He held up a hand. “Four weeks ago, I hadn’t so much as
looked
at another woman, and now I can’t get you off my mind. I want to be with you every damn second. The idea of not seeing you hurts”—he thumped his fist right above his heart—”here. Over two weeks ago, I learned the woman who was getting under my skin faced down my worst nightmares for a damn living, and I wanted nothing to do with that shit.”

He jabbed his fingers through his hair. She remained silent, her heart pounding.

He turned to her, looking almost awestruck. “And yet, here I am. I’ve been pelted by hail, almost swallowed alive by tornado-force winds, and helped rescue people from EF-5 destruction…when before the mere
thought
of those things made the past consume me. That day…back at the tornado, when that little girl tugged on my shirt… Gayle, she was the spitting image of Ally, and I was seeing the child I’d lost. I knew trying to find her mother was going to be one of the hardest things I’d ever done, but I felt like I’d been given a second chance for a reason.”

“Oh, Mac.”

“I might not be the most religious man, but I truly believe Ally reached out to me that day. Showed me a way to get past the guilt her death had burdened me with and move on.”

The look in his eyes—the vanishing sadness, and the dawning seed of hope—nearly melted her heart.

“None
of this has been easy, Gayle. It’s been confusing as hell. The
only
thing I am certain about is I really do want to be with you, but I’m going to be upfront—the storm chasing is a huge problem.”

“Are you asking me—”

“Never,” he interrupted. “It’s
my
issue. The chase we went on helped me with the past…but it also worried me about the future. What you do
is
dangerous. I keep remembering you screaming and covering you head when the windshield broke. Remembering how close we came to that tornado twisting right over us. I can’t forget those things. And I’m not sure it’s something I can live with. But, I’m trying my damndest to find a way to make that happen, okay?”

She heard the truth in his words. And was aware of one thing. If she agreed to his terms, she wouldn’t be the only one putting her heart on the line. They both would be.

And somehow, that made all the pain they’d inevitably face at the end of all this just a little bit easier to bear.

She took a deep breath. “Okay,” she agreed. “So, how do we do that?”

He swallowed heavily. Which made her suddenly nervous.

“I have an idea,” he said. “Something I feel we both need to do, before either of us can be certain about the future.”

She was almost afraid to ask. “Yeah?”

“I think it’s time we both go back home,” he said. “To face our pasts. So we both know we’re ready to move forward.”

She jerked up. “W-what?”

“I’ve spent years running from the past. You haven’t been running as much as you’ve been trying to make up for it, to make it right. But we both need to stop for a minute and take a step back…and confront what we’ve been most afraid of.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

“I know I’m not completely healed yet, but with your help I’ve taken a huge step in the right direction. And you’ve been doing great with your life, pulling meaning out of tragedy. But you just admitted you have relationship issues.”

She frowned. “I’m fine with my issues.”

“Well, I’m not. I need to go back and face my issues. In my hometown. And I think you do, too.”

She looked away and thought about that for several long minutes. Then she slowly nodded. “Back home. You may be right.”

“After that, I’m just waiting for the next big system to hit and I’m going to stay behind.”

Chapter Thirteen

S
trong fingers entwined with Gayle’s and squeezed as she stared at the two-story farmhouse she’d grown up in. She hadn’t been here in so long…

Damn Mac for making her come back
.

So many bittersweet emotions clogged her throat. The one that hit the hardest was that someone else lived here now. For eighteen years, she’d woken up and gone to sleep in this house. Even after she’d left for college, every holiday, every break, was spent under that roof. Until they’d all died and she’d been left utterly alone.

But now a new family was making sweet memories here. That was good, right?

“Come on.” Mac tugged her hand as he took a step forward.

She remained rooted at the end of the driveway. “I-I don’t think I can.”

Already, the changes done to the outside felt wrong. All wrong. What would the inside be like? She’d probably lose it completely.

“Gayle, this is what we came for.”

Tears burned her eyes. Oh, how the tables had turned. She’d spent weeks encouraging and helping Mac to let go of his past, and now he was encouraging
her
.

“The house used to be a soft, buttery yellow,” she whispered. “Every few years, my dad would make me and Zoe—my sister—help him paint it. It was such a pain in the butt, and we hated every second of it.”

Gray vinyl siding had now replaced the original wood, and she would’ve given anything to be painting side-by-side with her dad and sister again.

At least the owners took care of the place. From the immaculate lawn and the freshly weeded beds, she could tell they’d put their heart and soul into making the house a home.

Acknowledging that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Gayle. I’m not leaving you, baby. I’ll be here every step of the way.”

As she looked at Mac, his steadfastness and confidence flowed into her. Holding his gaze, she nodded, and he squeezed her hand again.

Together they walked up the driveway. The closer they got to the house, the more her resolve slipped. But instead of having to face it alone, she took what strength she needed from the man by her side, without guilt, without feeling weak…without hesitation. Confident he was giving support to her freely, just as she had in his moment of need.

A true couple, always there for each other when one of them couldn’t face something alone.

New emotions flooded her chest, expanding it. She loved him. Probably had from the moment she’d soaked him with her water gun that very first time. Damn, but she loved Mac Hannon. Not just the Mac he had become, but the wounded man he once was, as well.

She rested her head on his bicep, a soft smile curving her lips as he kissed the top of her head.

I’m not leaving you, baby.

Only time would tell if those words were true, but in this moment, he was here and he wasn’t leaving. And it was more than she’d had in a very long time.

M
ac shouldn’t have pressed her. As he and Gayle neared Emerald Springs, he understood a bit more of what she’d been going through earlier this morning as she’d stared at her childhood home.

He didn’t
want
to see how Emerald Springs had changed, or remember why it had.

Even though she’d been resistant at first, the visit had ended up being healing for Gayle—or so she’d told him afterward. After the new homeowner had allowed them in, Gayle had cautiously stepped over the threshold. A soft, stuttered laugh had rushed out of her as she’d gazed around, filled with speechless happiness, and it had reached right into his chest and squeezed his heart.

According to Gayle, the décor had changed a lot. But the important details were still there—the staircase she and her sister used to clamber down each morning when their mom called them to breakfast, the window nook Gayle and her father used to curl up in to read a book together, the dining room where they’d eaten dinner as a family every night. The renovations hadn’t changed all that, and Gayle had seemed so much lighter when they left.

He just had to keep telling himself that.

As they passed the
Welcome to Emerald Springs
sign, Mac shifted uncomfortably in the passenger seat.

“How you doing over there?” Gayle asked.

“Nervous as fuck,” he admitted. Whose idea had this been, anyway?

Oh, yeah. His.

She sent him an understanding smile. The most comforting thing was, she
did
understand. He reached over and took one of her hands off the steering wheel and entwined their fingers, linking them physically, just as they were emotionally.

“Where to first?”

His own healing journey would consist of two stops—the demolished neighborhood where he’d shared a home with Ally, and where the restaurant was that he’d been working in when the tornado had struck. According to Lance, the owners had rebuilt the restaurant, as had most of the other businesses. As for the neighborhood, he was sure what he was going to see.

“Let’s get the neighborhood done first.”

Nodding, she squeezed his fingers. As he gave her instructions, he started to notice the changes in the landscape where the tornado had torn through the town four years ago. The park that had been surrounded with lush, mature trees had been bulldozed. Young trees now dotted the area, and reconstructed shelters, bathrooms, and a playground stood proud amidst them. It wasn’t the same, but it wasn’t necessarily different, either. Not in spirit. He could still see himself out there playing Frisbee or grilling burgers.

Gayle was right. Even though the surroundings had changed, nothing could erase the memories he’d made there—the good memories.

A sense of peace washed over him.

As she turned into the neighborhood, he stared in stunned amazement. When he’d left, some of the owners had started to rebuild, some were still struggling with the decision to stay or go. Four years later, the community thrived with freshly built homes, pristine sidewalks, and bright flowering shrubs and trees. Had he not lived here, seen the destruction himself, he would never have believed every one of these homes had once been leveled.

The community had picked up the pieces of their lives and started over.

He knew it was high time he did so, himself.

“Take a right,” he said.

Gayle remained silent as she took the turn. He appreciated that. He needed to just absorb all of this now. Talking would come later.

They approached the small piece of land where his home had once stood, and he whispered, “Slow down.”

Nothing about it was the same. Nothing. Whoever had bought the lot of land had built a single-story ranch, replacing the two-story Cape Cod. An aboveground pool sparkled in the side yard where three kids ranging in age from about six to twelve splashed around. A mom and dad sat on the steps leading to a small porch, laughing. Someone had made the piece of land he associated with grief and death into something beautiful—they’d made it a home. Emotions almost got the best of him. Clearing his throat, he blinked.

“Do you want to get out?” Gayle asked softly.

“No. I’ve seen all I need to see.”

“Y
ou want me to do
what
?” Mac blinked at Gayle.

There was no way he’d heard her correctly. After they left the neighborhood, they’d come straight to the restaurant. Being that it was late afternoon, they’d decided to go ahead and eat while they were here. Except for some upgrades, this place hadn’t changed. Still had the deep cherry wood floors and accents throughout. The black padded booths and the open kitchen. Bill and Paulette had said they loved the restaurant the way it was and when they rebuilt, they’d had every intention of bringing it back to look the same.

“You heard me.” She shoved a forkful of rolled spaghetti in her mouth.

“I can’t do that.”

“You don’t have a choice. I believe I won a bet that allows me to collect the reward at any time for anything. This is what I want.”

“I’d thought it would be more of a…sexual collection,” he whispered as he leaned across the table toward her.

“That’s your bad. I talked to Bill and Paulette while you went to the bathroom and they are so stoked.” She sent him a smug smile. “Grab your chef hat, baby, and get your hot ass in the kitchen.”

“I haven’t been in an industrial kitchen in four years.”

“So? You haven’t been back to Kansas in four years, either. Seen a tornado, slept with a woman, or returned to your hometown. You’ve done all that now.” Seriousness crossed her face. “Mac, of all you lost, this is the only thing left to reclaim. Go take back your talent.”

Inhaling, he held her gaze for a moment, then nodded and slid out of the booth.

Her muttered, “So hot,” pulled a smile out of him as he strode toward the kitchen. Though it slipped a little as the stainless steel appliances came into view. Okay, more than a little. He’d been trapped under one of those, pinned helplessly as a car’s bumper inched closer and closer, intent on crushing him—in that very kitchen.

Working his shoulders, he pushed open the door, his gaze immediately landing on the area under the sink. Prickles of panic made his hands go numb and he could feel the tornado-force winds, hear its roar, as if it were happening at that exact moment.

“Mac, so glad you decided to cook for us!” Paulette’s excited voice jerked him out of the horrific memory.

Forcing a strained smile, he glanced over at the older woman. In her early fifties, she had blond hair secured back in a bun and the typical white dress shirt and black slacks uniform of an establishment like this. She and Bill had been married over twenty years now, and had owned this restaurant for most of it. She ran the place, while Bill was the businessman. Neither one of them had any culinary skills, but they did have superior taste in hiring chefs.

“Are you sure your head chef doesn’t mind?” Mac asked. The kitchen was the head chef’s domain. There was a sense of possessiveness that went along with it, if the chef really valued his restaurant. Mac used to be anal as hell about his.

“Not at all. Michael is very excited to meet you. He used to eat at your restaurant.”

Well, there went that out.

He followed Paulette to the back, where a man, maybe in his early thirties, with black hair, was waiting with a chef’s jacket.

The man offered his hand as soon as Mac stopped in front of him. “I’m Michael Ross. It’s an honor to meet you, Chef. I used to eat at your restaurant all the time. The food you create is inspiring.”

Ross’s use of the formal address took him aback for a second. Damn, it was weird to be recognized for his culinary skills instead of his fighting skills. He couldn’t remember the last time a stranger had approached him without referring to him as “The Snake.” It was quite refreshing.

He took Michael’s hand and shook it. “From the Coda Di Rospo I just tasted, Chef, I’d say you’re the one who is inspiring.”

Pride illuminated the man’s face as his chest puffed out. Man, he used to feel the same way anytime a customer had wanted to compliment the chef. He’d loved those moments. Still had them occasionally—like when he watched Gayle eat his food.

The other chef lifted the white jacket. “For you.”

Overwhelmed by conflicting emotions from hesitation, to need, to excitement, he took it and slipped it on. As he stood in front of a mirror, he fastened the pearl buttons, then tugged on the hem. The reflection staring back was like coming home. Chef Mac Hannon.

And he grinned.

For three hours, he lost himself in the chaos of an in-the-weeds kitchen, making dishes he hadn’t in so long, calling out orders, expediting and beautifying plates. Not once did the horror that had happened in that very room cross his mind. He was in the moment and no longer in the past. After he finished the final ticket of the night, he realized how much time had passed—and he’d left Gayle by herself. Excusing himself, he hurried out of the kitchen.

She sat back in a booth, playing around on her phone. She looked up, her brows shot up her forehead as she said, “Damn,” appreciatively. “Baby, we need to do a little roleplaying.” She motioned up and down with a finger. “You wear that, and I’ll be the disgruntled customer, and you’re willing to do whatever the customer wants to make her happy.
Mmm-hmm
. That’ll be
fun
. That jacket is
rrawr
.” She made a feline motion with her fingers.

Grinning like a fucking fool, he strode over to her. “Get up.” When she did, he tugged her to his chest and kissed her gently. He gazed down at her. “You are the most amazing woman I have
ever
met.”

And he meant it. Ally had been wonderful, would always be remembered. But Gayle, with her unwavering patience, her support, and unflappable personality…no one topped Gayle. No one.

M
ac smothered a chuckle at Gayle’s impatient huffing from the passenger seat of her car. For the first ten minutes of the forty-five minute drive, she’d been excited about the surprise he had planned for her, but for the last twenty or so, some very unlike-Gayle complaining had started. He was learning all kinds of interesting things about the woman, now that he was staying at her place twenty-four-seven. For instance, he’d learned she was all about spur-of-the-moment fun, but riding along in pitch darkness irritated the piss out of her.

“Can I take this damn blindfold off yet?” she asked as she lifted her hand to the black satin sleeping mask he’d bought especially for tonight’s events.

“Touch it and you can forget your surprise,” he warned.

“You are
so
mean,” she said with a pout.

He allowed himself a small chuckle before his humor faded and fear of losing what he had with Gayle clobbered him again. For the most part, he kept a lid on the unwanted feeling and enjoyed being with her. The other night, though, after she’d gone on a chase that took her away overnight, his nightmares had returned full force.

Except Ally was no longer the star player in them. Gayle was. It seemed he’d put the guilt he’d carried, for not being there the day his wife died, to rest. But it had only been replaced with his gut-wrenching fear a tornado would rip another woman from his arms—a woman who actively pursued them. The nightmares were vivid, stemming from the tornado that sideswiped them while they lay unprotected in the ditch. But this tornado didn’t miss them; it yanked Gayle from him every time, and tossed her around like a ragdoll before it hurled her to the ground. It was her hazel eyes staring lifelessly up at him, not Ally’s blue ones.