Speaking of Love (Perfect Kisses) (5 page)

Chapter Five

After a full day of classes and an extra-long after-hours meeting with the English Department, Mac climbed in her car and sped toward the setting sun. She had nothing on her mind but walking through the door and straight into a bubble bath.

Mac reminded herself for the hundredth time that it had been a mistake to give her twenty-two-year-old sister a key to her apartment. First, she noticed a white car was parked in her assigned spot. Justine. Then she noticed that her visitor’s spot was also taken. Greg. Apparently it was a mistake to give her twenty-six-year-old brother a key, too.

“I brought reinforcements,” Justine said to Mac, right as Mac stepped through the door. She was gesturing at their brother.

“Hey Kinzy,” Greg said, the top half of his body hidden behind the refrigerator door. All Mac could make out were his jeans and work boots. He had better not be tracking dirt from his latest construction job around her house.

“Hey,” Mac said, dropping her bag and laptop on the kitchen table. “What are you guys doing here? If you’re after a meal, what’s wrong with the food at your own apartments? Or Mom’s house?”

“I thought you would need us after Rick dumped you,” Justine explained. Her long hair was in two French braids, making her look a little like the girl on the Swiss Miss boxes. Juss had the same issue as Mac: if they didn’t watch it, they looked like jail bait.

Justine stepped toward her sister with her arms outstretched. “There, there.” She gave Mac a very awkward hug.

The Simms family was never really big on physical displays of affection, but at least Justine tried. She seemed to be the only one who wasn’t emotionally stunted. Maybe it was her years studying to be a family therapist that made the difference.

Mac also suddenly realized it was probably a mistake to have talked to her sister about what happened with Rick the other night. It was meant as strictly venting, and not about a breakup. There had been no breakup.

“I’m fine, Juss,” Mac said. “It’s no big deal. Really.”

“Shh-shh.” Justine squeezed her tighter. “You don’t have to be brave with me.”

Justine was a romantic, taking after Mac’s best friend Tess more than herself. Mac often wondered if their parents’ divorce affected Juss harder than her two siblings.

“Don’t you have any meat in this house?” Greg asked, pulling out a brick of yellow cheese.

“I haven’t been to the store in a week,” Mac said, still enclosed in Justine’s arms. When she peeled away from her sister, she handed her brother a small cutting board. “And I repeat, why didn’t you eat at Mom’s? You know I don’t keep junk food in my house.” Then she remembered the half-eaten bag of Cheetos from the other night. Where had she put that?

“Do you need some ice cream?” Justine asked. She turned to Greg and swatted his arm. “She needs ice cream. I told you we should have brought ice cream.”

“Is that something you read in one of your psychology books?” Mac asked. “Don’t you dare start psychoanalyzing me. You haven’t graduated yet.”

Greg took a bite of cheese. “Do you need me to beat him up? Make him a nice pair of cement moccasins?”

Mac rolled her eyes. Sounded like her baby brother had been hanging around the thugs at his job sites a little too much lately. Cement moccasins?

“I’ll do it,” Greg went on. “Rick, right? That rich guy?” He set down the cheese knife. “Where does he live?”

Mac couldn’t help laughing. “Seriously, I’m not sad about anything. Rick and I were
not
together.”

Justine rubbed Mac’s arm. “It’s okay,” she soothed. “You can cry to me when Greg leaves. Greg—leave. She needs to cry. Can’t you see how angsty her face looks?”

“Hey,” Mac said, doing her best not to scowl. “I always look like this.”

Justine smashed her lips together in an overly dramatic sympathetic frown. “Cry.”

“Juss.” Mac took her sister by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. They were both about the same height. Their whole family was a bunch of shrimpos. Luckily, they were also very loud, otherwise they would probably disappear in any room.

“There was never anything going on between Rick and me.” Mac felt like she was repeating herself. “You know that. I told you a million times. It was basically a business arrangement.”

“Right,” Justine slowly said, looking unconvinced. “You said that, but I thought… I assumed you were just saying that because of the money and everything.”

“Yeah, well.” Mac kicked off her heels.

“What’s this?” Greg asked, pointing the cheese knife at a stack of forms sitting on the counter next to the phone.

“Adoption papers,” Mac said.

“What?” Justine shrieked and Mac jumped. “Adoption? Things aren’t
that
bad for you, are they?” She put a hand on Mac’s arm. “Don’t worry. I know you’ll find someone someday. Don’t give up.”

Greg was suddenly at her other side. “I know some guys at work,” he said. “They’re not all that educated, but at least you won’t have to adopt—”

“No!” Mac cut him off, laughing. “You guys, I’m not adopting a
baby
.”

“You’re not?” Justine looked confused.

Mac shook her head. “It’s a greyhound rescue program.”

“Why do buses need to be rescued?” Greg asked, scratching his head.

Mac turned to him with a sisterly smile. “The
dogs
,” she explained. “The ones that race. They retire from racing when they’re still young and have to be adopted.”

“You want a…dog,” Justine said, her words slow and measured.

Mac leaned against the counter. “I do,” she said. “But I think my apartment is too small and I don’t have a big enough yard. This program has really strict regulations. I don’t think I qualify.”

“That sucks,” Justine said.

Mac nodded. “Tell me about it.” Feeling annoyed at the slight pressure building behind her eyes, Mac walked to the refrigerator and pulled open the door, already knowing there wouldn’t be anything interesting inside. She shut the fridge and opened the pantry. Cheetos. Bingo!

“Getting back to the subject,” Justine said. Then she eyed the Cheetos. “Oh, can I have some?”

“Don’t get any on the white towels.” Mac handed her the open bag.

“You’re beyond anal, sis.”

Mac heard the TV come on in the other room. “Greg, before you claim your spot for the evening, order a pizza,” she called out.

“Where’s the phone?” her brother hollered back.

“Right next to you!”

“Oh.”

Mac rolled her eyes. “So, what subject are we getting back to?” she asked Justine.

“Rick Duffy,” Justine said. “It really is for the best. It would give Dad a heart attack.”

“Rick’s not a bad guy,” Mac said, licking a spot of orange powder off her fingertip.

Justine shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. Dad would go ballistic if he found out you were dating his kid.”

Mac didn’t need the reminder. The fact that Duffy’s company was responsible for closing the factory that her father had worked at for fifteen years was never far from her mind when she was with Rick.

“I know that.” Mac groaned.

“The man just shut the whole place down with hardly any warning!”

“I
know
, Juss.”

“Dad was never the same after that.”

“It wasn’t Rick’s fault,” Mac said. “He was in high school at the time.” She paused, a little amazed that she was defending him. Weren’t Justine’s words the same thoughts Mac had only a few nights ago at the Chamber dinner with Rick?

“Doesn’t matter.” Justine shook her head. “Dad will say the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Have you forgotten how long it took for him to find another job? Our parents got divorced because of that,” she added, her voice catching. “Do you really think you could ever invite him over for a family dinner?”

“No,” Mac said, getting a heavy feeling in her chest. “That’s one of the reasons why I’m not going to see him again.”

The two sisters turned their heads when there was a knock at the door.

“Someone get that!” Greg called from the living room.

“Caveman,” Justine muttered.

Mac stood up. “Don’t worry, I got it.” Out of habit, she looked through the peep hole first.

Then she gasped and jerked back.

“Who is it?” Justine asked, sliding up behind her. “Is it a prowler?”

“What’s a prowler?” Mac asked, as she crouched in front of the door, her hands on her thighs.

“You know…like…” Justine started making slashing motions with her hand.

“No,” Mac said, her knees still bent. “It’s—”

“Mac?” The voice came from the other side of the door. “I can hear you. Everything okay?”

“Who is it?” Justine mouthed, her eyes wide.

Mac straightened and tucked her hair behind her ears. “Please don’t say anything…stupid,” she requested, then reached for the knob.

…

Rick thought he was seeing double at first. Then he realized the woman standing next to Mac must be her sister.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hey.” Mac was hanging onto the edge of the door. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were back in town till tomorrow.”

“Finished early,” Rick said. “You left this in my car the other night.” He held up the bottle of red nail polish that had been rolling around on the floor of the passenger side of his car for three days. “I know it’s not mine because it’s not my color.”

The sister burst out laughing, but cut it short when Mac shot her a glance. “What?” she said with a shrug. “It was funny.”

“Rick, this is my sister, Justine.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, handing Mac the nail polish.

Justine returned a broad smile. “So, this is Rick.”

He felt his eyebrows pull together.

Justine put her hands on her hips and turned to her sister. “And I thought you said you were never—”

“Come in!” Mac said brightly, cutting off whatever Justine was about to say. “It’s freezing.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward.

“Thanks,” Rick said and crossed the threshold. He felt Justine’s eyes on him as he followed Mac into the kitchen. She was barefoot and wearing a gray skirt and black sweater. She’d probably just gotten home from work.

All the lights in the house were on and the TV was playing in the other room. Sounded like a basketball game.

“That’s my brother in there,” Mac said. “Greg, we have company.”

“Hey-oh,” Greg called, waving over his head.

Rick could see the back of him. He was in the reclining chair and probably not willing to give it up. Rick smiled: typical sibling behavior. When he turned around, Justine was right in front of him, her arms crossed.

“You don’t look like I expected,” she said, squinting her eyes. They were the same shade of blue as Mac’s.

“I don’t?”

“No.” She bit her nail while looking him up and down. “You’re taller, better hair, and you’ve got a nice—”

“Juss,” Mac hissed. “Leave him alone. Sorry,” she said to Rick. “The day God was passing out tact, the Simmses were making moonshine.”

Rick laughed. “Every family should have a legacy.”

“Do you want to sit?” Mac asked.

Rick went to take the spot next to her, but Justine offered him the chair at her side instead. “Thanks,” he said. He didn’t mind the stares. Justine was obviously curious about him, and Rick was equally curious about her. He’d never met anyone in Mac’s family, and suddenly he’d hit the jackpot.

“We just ordered pizza,” Justine said. “Can you stay?”

“Thanks, but I can’t,” Rick said. The truth was, he would love to hang out here all night, but he was catching a vibe that Mac was uncomfortable. Maybe he’d walked in on a sisterly conversation. He didn’t want to intrude any further.

“Why?” Mac asked. “What are you doing tonight?”

“I should hit the gym, but I don’t have time,” Rick said.

Mac stood up and pulled a Diet Cherry Vanilla Dr Pepper out of the fridge. “Want one?” she asked. When Rick declined, she automatically handed one to Justine. Like their sizes and faces, apparently the two sisters shared a similar caffeine addiction.

“Do you have hockey on Friday?” Mac asked, filling a cup with ice.

“You play hockey?” Justine asked.

Rick nodded.

“Hockey’s sexy,” she added, cracking open her can.

Rick nodded again and noticed a very distinct glare shoot from Mac to her sister. If said glare was meant to discourage Justine from talking, it hadn’t worked, because she started up again.

“Where do you play?”

Rick glanced at Mac before answering, feeling a little like he should ask permission before speaking. When Mac offered him a tiny shoulder shrug, he figured he was okay.

“The rink by the university opens early in the mornings for three-on-three, half-court scrimmages.”

“You’re on a team? Who’s on it? Anyone I know?”

Man, the girl could talk, even with half her drink already gone. She was definitely Mac’s sister.

“Tess’s fiancé, Jack,” Mac answered for him.

“Jack’s a cool guy.” Justine made a face. “Can’t see him playing hockey, though. Who else?”

“Charlie,” Rick said. “When he’s home.”

“Charlie Johansson? Tess’s brother in the army?” Justine sat up straight. “He’s hot.”

“Juss,” Mac whispered, her glass trying to hide her mouth.

“What? It’s true.”

Mac laughed at her sister and shook her head. They were like a comedy tag-team.

“Honestly,” Mac said, looking at Rick, “I’m surprised you can get Charlie up so early. When he’s on leave, he splits his time between restoring his Chevy Impala and dating a string of chicks. I’d think a six o’clock wake-up call would cramp his style.”

“When does he go back to Afghanistan?” Justine asked, downing the rest of her drink.