Big Sky Eyes (11 page)

Chapter 16

Brent clicked to submit his credit card information and when
the confirmation page popped up with his flight details, he smiled and printed
the page. Mackenna was going to flip out when she saw him. The poor girl was in
serious need of some fun. Her first semester nearly buried her in homework so
much that she spent her entire Christmas break practically catching up on sleep
and her second semester was proving even more challenging with the addition of
her coffee shop job.

This weekend was her eighteenth birthday and she had no
plans to celebrate. Her parents were out of town, having flown to Las Vegas when
her grandmother had taken a fall in her retirement home and was hospitalized. Brent
booked Emma to stay with his mother for the weekend, and he’d cleared the
absence with the McCraes. He was flying out in two days for Reno.

He was looking forward to seeing her again, but in the back
of his mind he feared the meeting would be awkward. They had grown closer over
the months of conversations. She knew some of his deepest and most private
thoughts and he knew hers.
 
Would that
intimacy carry over comfortably in person?

He didn’t care if there was awkwardness. She had become his
closest friend in the last ten months. Whatever clumsiness their newfound
knowledge of each other caused, they would get through it quickly. He was sure
of it.

She hadn’t expected snow on her birthday. True, mid-March
was still plenty cold in northern Nevada, and the right set of clouds could
dump flurries at any time of the year. She remembered snow in June one summer
as a child. Still, she dreaded leaving the warmth of the fireplace in the
coffee shop for her cold studio apartment, trading the best hot chocolate for a
bowl of chicken-flavored Top Ramen.

The shop had filled with bodies, as tended to happen when
the cold wind blew people indoors. It was open mic night and already someone
was plucking their guitar, fine tuning the strings for their musical debut. She
bundled herself into her coat and pulled her white beanie down over her ears. Gathering
the school books she’d been studying before her shift, she waved to her
co-workers and eased out into the night. With the shop so close to her
apartment she never wasted the gas to drive the distance. The walk home usually
took her fifteen minutes. She determined to make it in ten.
 

Flakes of snow caught on her hair and eyelashes as she
stomped through the thin white blanket underfoot. Her breath hovered before her
face like a cloud the entire time. Midterms were finally over but instead of
taking the extra time to rest, she’d picked up more shifts to earn the extra
cash.
Every inch of her cried out for sleep.
Her body
yearned for the warmth of the coffee shop and her nose began to drip. She
sighed. What a birthday.

Her parents had called earlier and sang to her and that had
lifted her spirits briefly, but then she’d had to go to class. Now, she was
heading to her cold apartment with nothing to look forward to but her
late-night chat with Brent. Maybe she’d find something interesting on the
television, but she doubted it. She couldn’t afford cable and the three free
channels available to her never offered much by way of entertainment.

As she rounded the corner the steps down to her door
glistened. One foot on the concrete was all it took to send her sliding on the
slick ice that had formed there and she landed hard on her bottom, her books
flying into the slushy ground. She yelped at both the pain in her rear and the
damage done to her books. She gasped and grabbed them quickly using the
underside of her coat to dry them, but it was too late. The pages were already
warped and the words bled together. She’d have to buy new books, which she
couldn’t afford.

Angrily, she threw the books down the steps at her door and
buried her face in her hands and wept. If her parents knew of her situation,
they would come sweeping in to rescue her with money she hadn’t earned. She
wouldn’t do that to them. Just the thought of them made her weary. She missed
home. She was terribly lonely, terribly overworked and sleep-deprived, and her
bottom was starting to throb.

This was the worst birthday ever.

“What’s this?
Tears on your birthday?”

She heard his voice from behind her and her head snapped up.
It couldn’t be. She had to be imagining things. Slowly, she turned around and
saw him standing above her, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a bouquet
of daisies in his hand.
 
He wore hiking
boots, dark jeans and a black hoodie. His hair was as long as the last time she
saw him and
 
the lower half of his face
darkened in that sexy way he always wore his stubble. Good Lord, she had
forgotten how good looking he was. And he was there!

Her eyes went wide and her mouth fell open to speak but she could
not find her voice, so she smiled.

“Isn’t your ass getting cold?” he said with a wicked grin.

She looked at the ground, as if she’d forgotten where she
sat, and chuckled.

“I think it needs to be iced right now,” she returned. “That
hurt.”

“I’ll bet,” he said and held out his free hand. She took it,
finding it warm though it was bared to the elements. Easily, he pulled her to
her feet and she threw her arms around him without thinking. He did the same
and she wanted to melt into his embrace and stay there forever. All traces of
the cold night vanished in his arms. There was no loneliness and no ache, only
pure joy.

“What are you doing here?” she asked into his chest, where
her head was pressed.

“I had a feeling you needed a friend,” he answered.

She sighed into his sweatshirt. “You were right.”

He smiled softly to himself. Her hair was damp and tumbling
over his fingers in soft waves. He didn’t know that it curled when it was wet.
Every time he had seen it it had either been dry, straight or bundled in a knot.
The thought amused him that after months of feeling like he knew everything
about this girl, he could still discover something new like that. He pulled
away to look at her.

“Happy birthday,” he said, handing her the flowers. She took
them and buried her face in them.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He looked up into the fluorescent
street lamplight and watched the white flakes drifting toward him. “Well, I had
hoped to be able to take you out for a nice dinner.
You up
for it?”

She formed a pout. “You mean I’m not going to be able to
have my ramen noodles tonight?”

“Good God is that what you’ve been eating?” he said with
disgust. When she nodded, he continued, “Looks like I arrived just in the nick
of time. Let’s get this stuff inside and then get some food.”

She tucked the flowers into the bend of her arm and used her
other hand on the railing to steady her descent. Once they were both safely
inside her apartment, she blushed clear to her eyebrows at the disheveled state
of the place. Laundry, clean and dirty, was strewn about the unmade bed, the
computer desk and the floor. Dishes piled in the sink and on the counter.
Emptied coffee mugs adorned every space of the computer desk not covered with
papers and clothes. At least the bathroom was clean, she thought. She might let
everyday tidying slide, but she could not abide a dirty bathroom. She spun
quickly to face him, an apologetic and horrified look plaguing her face.

“I’m
really
not a
slob, I promise you,” she pleaded for him to believe her. “I’m usually very
neat and orderly. I just…haven’t had much time or energy to clean the place
lately.”

Brent braced his hands on her shoulders and looked at her
earnestly.

“Mackenna, I’m not here to judge the cleanliness of your
place. I’m here to make you forget crap like this.”

“Yeah, but I’m being serious….”

“Mackenna,” he interrupted gently, “just say ‘okay, Brent.’”

She looked skeptically at him, wanting to press her defense.

“Say it, Mackenna,” he demanded softly. She sighed in
defeat.

“Okay, Brent.” He smiled.

"Good. Now, do you mind if I take a quick shower? I’ve
got airport stink on me.”

“Sure!” she brightened.

The condition of her bathroom would prove that she wasn’t a
slob. Plus, his showering would give her an opportunity to perform an emergency
pick-up of the place. He stepped around her and locked himself in the bathroom.
As soon as the door shut, Mackenna was fast on her feet, ignoring the thrumming
pain in her bottom. Her clothes were all piled into the hamper, clean or not.
She threw the sheets and comforter across the bed, straightening and smoothing
out the lines. She stacked the papers on her desk neatly, filled her fingers
with mugs and set to work in the kitchen, scrubbing dishes.

The bane of having a small apartment was also the benefit.
There was too little room to make too big a mess. By the time the last dish was
placed on the drying rack, she heard the bathroom door open behind her. She
turned and saw Brent emerging from a cloud of steam. He wore the same dark
jeans, but had upgraded his shoes to a pair of black Merrils. His hoodie was
replaced with a nice thick, dark blue wool sweater. His hair was dripping tiny
drops onto his shoulders but had been combed through and tucked behind his
ears. A faint scent of cologne drifted out toward her with the steam and she
inhaled a lungful of it, storing it in her memory along with the view of him
standing in there with her, looking so fine.

“And just like that, the cowboy’s gone,” she said of his
transformation.

“Cowboy?” he grimaced. “I’m not a cowboy. Do you think I
dress like a cowboy?”

She laughed at his worried expression. “Of course you’re a
cowboy. If you’re not then I don’t know who is.”

He frowned and she laughed again.

“What’s wrong with being a cowboy?” she asked.

“Well, I guess that depends on what kind of cowboy you’re
talking about,” he returned. “If we’re talking Frederick Burnham, then that’s
fine, but if we’re talking someone like…Garth Brooks or something, then no
thanks.”

She giggled.
“Definitely Burnham.”

“Yeah?”
He sounded so hopeful that
Mackenna couldn’t help but stroke his ego.

“Oooh yeah.”

“Good deal,” he said with an approving nod before he eyed
the newly cleaned apartment. “Either you’re a fast cleaner or I took way too
long in the shower.”

“It wasn’t that messy, was it?”

“No. I’m just giving you a hard time. You ready?”

She laughed.
“Uh, no.
I need to
change.”

“What’s wrong with what you’ve got on?” he asked sincerely.

“It’s nowhere near as nice as what you have on, that’s
what.” She removed her thigh-length black coat to reveal that she wore a pair
of thick black ski pants and a long-sleeved gray Wolfpack shirt. Winter boots
and a white beanie completed her outfit. She felt like the frump of all frumps,
but it was warm and comfortable and she wore a full-length apron at the coffee
shop to cover it up anyway.

“You look fine,” Brent said, amused at how cute she looked
being swallowed up by her clothes.

“Ha!” she retorted. “Well, either way, I’m changing. Don’t
worry. I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”

She went into the closet and retrieved a few items and then
disappeared into the bathroom. Brent looked around the tiny apartment and then
sat down on the edge of the bed. She had a dozen photos pinned to the wall
beside her computer desk. Some were of the two of them together in Montana that
made him smile. There were others of her and Kelly, her and two other adults
that he assumed were her parents, her with horses and dogs and even one with
her and a llama. That one made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” she called through the bathroom door.

“I’m just laughing at the picture of you and the llama.”

“Aww, my Chick,” she said sadly. “He died last year.”

“Sorry to hear it,” he said. “Do you see much of Kelly these
days?” He studied the photo of her and Mackenna at their high school graduation.
Both were grinning from ear to ear. The thought struck him that Mackenna looked
far younger in that photo than she did presently, and not even a full year had passed.

“Not really,” she answered. “She moved to the Bay Area and
is going to school in San Francisco. I saw her around Christmas, but she
doesn’t really make it back here during the school year. We chat on the Internet
though from time to time.”

Mackenna applied the final coat of mascara to her lashes and
gave herself
a
once-over in the mirror. She had wet
the top half of her hair to match the waves of the strands that hadn’t been
covered by the beanie. A few scrunches of mousse and it would dry in the same
manner. She had lined her lower lids with black liner and the blue of her eyes
popped with the effects. A thin layer of nude-colored gloss painted her lips.
She had traded her outfit for a pair of dark jeans to hug her redefined curves
and shrunken form and a black turtleneck sweater. Black dress boots gave her
another two inches of height. She was ready.

She stepped through the doorway and Brent turned to greet
her. His usual chumminess dropped with his jaw as his smile faded. His eyes,
slightly wider than they had been a moment before, scanned her figure and she
finally saw what she’d always wanted to see in his eyes when he looked at her.
Desire.

Chapter 17

When Brent insisted on driving, Mackenna handed over the
keys to her Ford Ranger, and when he walked with her to the passenger side and
opened the door for her she felt a growing giddiness inside. He drove as though
he’d driven these streets a dozen times.

“Do you know where you’re going?” she asked.

“Yep,” he said confidently.

“Have you been to Reno before?”

“Nope.”

She studied him curiously. “Then how do you know where
you’re going?”

“It’s a wonderful thing – the Internet.
Well,
that and talking to the cab driver on the way to your place.”

“Ahh, I see now.”

Sometime on the way to their destination, the snow had
stopped falling. Brent took the highway that led them out of town and up into
the mountains surrounding Lake Tahoe. Her curiosity rose with the altitude and
every attempt she made to discover their endpoint resulted in Brent’s
tight-lipped grin. When he finally pulled into the parking lot she gasped.

The Vintner was a classy spot crouched into the mountainside
with outdoor dining on a wooden platform overlooking the lake. She’d never
eaten there but had always thought it a romantic setting. She’d heard of
others’ experiences at the restaurant, including tales of how the hostess
provided warmed blankets to those sitting outside and a free long-stem rose to
every female.

She hadn’t meant for him to open the door for her, but she’d
been so distracted looking up at the dining platform that she failed to notice
when Brent left the truck. As her door was yanked open, he held out a hand to
help her. It was obvious by the state of the parking lot that the mountains had
received more snow than the city. Her boots sank down into the powder a good
few inches. As she made to release Brent’s hand, his grip tightened. She looked
up in question.

“Best hold on,” he said with a wink. “We don’t want you
falling like you did earlier.”

“How kind of you,” she said with sarcasm, but she laced her
fingers through his anyway.
 

Though she wore thick gloves to shield from the cold, her
hand warmed to the touch of his. To any onlookers, they would pass for a normal
couple on a date. The thought pleased Mackenna and she strove to walk a little
taller, proud to be at his side. When they reached the top of the salt-soaked
steps, Brent approached the hostess.

“Thompson, party of two,” he said. “We have a reservation.”

“Yes, I see you right here, Mr. Thompson,” the hostess
replied cheerily. “Please follow me.”

She led the way to a table near the railing of the platform
and Mackenna soon learned that everything she’d heard was true. She was presented
a rose with her menu and within minutes a heated blanket was placed over her
lap. It warmed her enough that she removed her scarf and gloves. They ordered waters
to start and Brent asked to see a wine menu. Once the wait staff removed
themselves from hearing range, she leaned forward and whispered to Brent.

“You know I can’t drink, right?”

His face shot up at her words, as if the thought hadn’t
occurred to him. Mackenna misread the look and hurried to correct what she
thought was her mistake.

“Of course, you can drink if you want. I wasn’t saying that
you couldn’t order wine if you wanted to.”

His face relaxed. “Do you want to share some with me?”

She looked at him as if he hadn’t understood what she’d
said. “But I’m only eighteen, Brent.”

“That’s not what I asked you,” he returned, still awaiting
her answer.

“They’re gonna card me,” she pleaded.

“If they card you, we’ll pretend to look for your wallet and
when we can’t find it, we’ll retract the order.”

He said it so easily that she sat upright and eyed him
suspiciously, raising an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’ve done this before.”

“I’ll never tell,” he teased. “So, what do you say?
You up for it?”

She flushed with excitement and anxiety at the idea of
skirting the law, but in the end she decided to go for it. She nodded.

“Good,” he smiled. “Way to color outside of the lines. Now,
how about something white? It’ll be chilled. Are you okay with drinking
something cold out here in the cold?”

“Whatever you pick will be fine,” she said.

“Cool, now give me your left hand.”

“What?” she
said,
confused.

“Give me your left hand,” he repeated. “I’ll bet you don’t
even get asked for an ID.”

“Of course I will,” she returned.

“Let’s bet on it,” he cocked an eyebrow. “If you get ID’d,
you get to ask any one thing of me. If you don’t get ID’d, I get to ask
something of you.”

She shot him a sideways glance, skeptical and curious as to
his game.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” she said and she placed her left hand in
his.

He scooted his chair closer to hers and hid their joined hands
beneath the blankets, resting them on her lap. Her pulse leapt into her throat
at so intimate a position. When the waitress returned to take their order Brent
spoke for them, and he was as cool and calm as can be.

“We haven’t decided on our entrees yet, but we would like a
bottle of wine.”
 
As the waitress’ eyes
shot toward Mackenna, Brent continued speaking. “We’re celebrating our fifth
wedding anniversary and this is our first time to Tahoe. We’re from Vegas. We
didn’t expect snow, though, so this is definitely a treat for us!”

“This is your first time to Tahoe?” the waitress asked,
eating up Brent’s distraction.

“Yes,” he answered. “I can’t believe how beautiful it is in
person. The photos don’t do it justice.”

“What do you guys do in Vegas?” she asked.

“I work in construction,” Brent lied, “and my wife…”

“I deal blackjack at the MGM,” Mackenna interjected. Brent
whirled his head around to look at Mackenna’s poker face. He smiled at how
easily she inserted herself into the fantasy.

“Sorry, honey,” he said to her. “I know how it bugs you when
I speak for you.”

“No worries, babe,” she said flippantly before turning her
attention onto the waitress. “What are your recommendations?”

“As far as food or wine?” she asked and Mackenna felt a
sense of triumph welling in her.

“Both,” she replied.

“Well, let’s start with food first. Then, you can pair your
wine.”

The waitress listed off the specials and her
recommendations, with Brent and Mackenna settling on the roasted red pepper
risotto. Next, they went with a crisp bottle of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc and
as the waitress sauntered off with their order Brent squeezed Mackenna’s hand
beneath the blanket before turning a smug grin on her.

“Don’t look so pleased with
yourself
,”
she said. “I think I can claim a little credit for pulling it off.”

“True,” he admitted. “You shocked the hell out of me with
how cool you were.”

“Ok, so what do you ask of me?” she offered. “You won.”

“I wouldn’t have won without your help. So, you can ask any
one thing of me.”

“You sure?”

“Yep.
Besides, it’s your birthday.
You should get the favor. So, what’ll it be?”

“Hmm…” she eyed him mischievously. “I don’t know yet. I’ll
get back to you.”

He laughed.
“Uh oh.”

She smiled, shrugged,
then
turned
to study the effects of the newly-emerging moonlight on the still waters of the
lake. Brent took the moment to let his gaze rove over her profile. Her skin
looked smooth and pale, no longer the dusty tan of her Montana days. Her hair
reached below her shoulder blades, even with its curl. It had darkened a shade
with the sunless winter. Her face had thinned out like the rest of her and her
cheekbones were high and just prominent enough to flatter the soft angles that
completed her. The sweater she wore clung to her curves enough that he knew he
would like the body beneath.

Suddenly, he was aware of where his hand rested on her lap,
and how she didn’t seem to mind it there. More surprising was that he didn’t
seem to mind it there. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe in the
fantasy he had woven. What would it be like to have been married to her for
five years? What would it be like to be able to give in to his yearning and
kiss her whenever he wanted?

He shook the stars from his eyes. What the hell was he
thinking? It could never be. They lived two completely different lives, lives
more conducive to the close friendship they had fostered over the winter. He
would never leave his mother in Montana and Mackenna had expressed no interest
in ever living there. So, what was the point of giving in to something already
designed to fail? They’d both end up with broken hearts and worse: the loss of
a best friend.

He needed to find a way to control his growing attraction to
her. He had not expected to have such a strong physical reaction after so many
months apart. As it was, he couldn’t bring himself to remove his hand from her
thigh, and he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He breathed a sigh of relief
when the waitress returned with their bottle of wine. He might have done
something really stupid, like kiss her.

Mackenna enjoyed the meal and every detail of the
experience. She found the wine crisp and light with a hint of fruit and
sweetness. It went down cold and came back up to warm her cheeks. The dinner
was superb, the conversation easy and comfortable, and Brent’s calloused palm
claiming her thigh was the best dessert. By the time they returned to her
apartment, she was soft and sated.

“How long are you here for?” she asked him, removing her
jacket and scarf.

“I leave on Sunday morning,” he answered. Then, he looked
around the tiny apartment. “I should have booked a hotel room or something. I
didn’t realize your place was so small. I thought you’d have a couch or
something to crash on.”

Her pulse quickened at learning that he had nowhere else to
stay.

“Don’t be silly. You’re welcome to stay here,” she said.

“You don’t mind if I sleep on your floor?”

“Yes, I do mind,” she said seriously. “I would be very
insulted that you would think me such a poor hostess. You will take the bed.”

“Oh no, I won’t,” he protested. “
I
would be very insulted that you would think me such a poor
gentleman as to put you on the floor while I sleep in your bed.”

“Well, you are
not
sleeping
on my floor.”

“Neither are you.”

They shifted their gazes nervously between themselves and
the bed until Mackenna finally laughed.

“This is stupid. What century are we in? We can sleep in the
same bed.”

Brent could already feel his groin beginning to react and he
went to his duffel bag as a distraction.

“Are you sure?” he asked over his shoulder. “I have no
problem taking the floor.”

“I’m sure,” she said and thought
absolutely sure
.

She disappeared into the bathroom with clothes bundled
beneath her arm. When she emerged, she was dressed in flannel pajama pants and
a tight, black, long-sleeved top. Her face was washed free of its makeup and
her hair was piled into a messy knot atop her head. Brent had changed while she
was in the bathroom and now wore black jogging pants and the black hoodie he’d
had on when he arrived.

When he went to brush his teeth, Mackenna climbed beneath
the covers nearest the wall and listened to the sounds of Brent in her
apartment. The sheets were cold and she curled into a fetal position and
shivered. Brent shut the light off and took a deep breath before climbing into
the bed beside her.

The bed was barely big enough for both of them to lie without
touching one another. He was on his back with his hands laced behind his head.
She was on her side, her back to him. He stared up at the dark ceiling,
fighting the urge to curl up behind her. Soon, her shivers relaxed and he heard
the rhythmic rise and fall of her breaths. She was asleep. He suddenly felt too
hot in his hoodie and quietly stripped it off, leaving him bare-chested.

He laid quietly, his fingers and toes fidgeting restlessly,
and he knew there would be no sleeping for him like this. He rolled over onto
his side, facing her back. His feet accidentally brushed against her icy toes,
sending a chill through his own body with their temperature.
Ah hell
, he thought and then curled up
behind her, wrapping his arm around her and entwining his warm feet with hers
to warm them.

Mackenna’s open eyes widened.
Oh my God
, she thought as Brent snuggled up behind her. She had
been contemplating how there was no need for the space heater with Brent there.
Only seconds after he’d climbed into bed it warmed pleasantly and her shivering
stilled. Then, his feet touched hers and her breath caught. His were so warm.
Next thing she knew, his entire body pressed against hers and his arm draped possessively
over her waist. She saw then that he had shed his sweatshirt.

Her body was tight with anticipation. When Brent relaxed
into deep and easy breaths, she figured he had fallen asleep. She shifted her
body until it snuggled more comfortably against him and closed her eyes with a
sigh. She could feel his hot breath on the back of her neck, his hand resting
on her stomach just below her breasts and she smiled.

“Thank you,” she whispered to him, knowing he would not
hear.

After a brief pause, he whispered back.
“For
what?”

Her eyes popped open when she realized he was awake. Knowing
that he had purposefully arranged himself with her in his arms made her flush.
When she answered him, she spoke the truth.

“For making this the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Brent smiled to himself then stretched his mouth forward to
plant a soft kiss on her nape, and as he held her tight to him, breathing in
all of the scents that made up Mackenna, he drifted off to a peaceful sleep.