Irresistible (Cloverleigh Farms #1)(41)

“I never said I was in love,” I said defensively, although the feelings I had for Mack were dizzying and breathtaking and all-consuming—exactly what I imagined love to be like.

“Whatever you say, sis.” She thumped me on the shoulder before pulling the hallway door open, giving me a wry grin on her way out.

I couldn’t help grinning too.

Around two, he texted me.

Hey beautiful. How’s your day?

I blushed and messaged back.

Good. Not too busy. How’s yours?





Good. Guess what? My sister called and said the girls can stay another night. Apparently there is a very serious Junior Monopoly tournament happening.

My stomach flipped over. Did that mean we could see each other again? With shaky fingers, I texted back.

That’s nice of her.





How does dinner and Netflix at my house sound? Don’t worry, I won’t cook. We’ll get takeout.

I laughed out loud before replying.

Why don’t I cook? I’ll get some groceries and meet you at your house. Seven?





Perfect. See you then.



My shift at reception finished at three, and I went upstairs to my rooms and crashed on the couch immediately. When I woke up, it was already going on six, and I jumped up to go change.

Trading my work clothes for jeans and a sweater (and my utilitarian underwear for something lacy and cute), I quickly brushed my hair and freshened up my makeup. Just in case, I packed a tiny bag with a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and makeup remover. Double checking that my pills were in my purse, I threw the bag over my shoulder and headed out the door.

On the way to Mack’s house, I hit the grocery store and bought everything I’d need to make stuffed shells. Not exactly gluten-free, but since Millie wasn’t home tonight, I figured I’d take the opportunity to cook pasta for him.

I also bought a loaf of fresh Italian bread and ingredients for a garden salad and lemon-tarragon vinaigrette. Maybe I was showing off little, but it wasn’t as if I wouldn’t enjoy every moment spent preparing dinner for us in his kitchen. I loved cooking and baking, and I rarely had anyone around to share meals with. Usually I ended up giving food away.

Mack’s house was dark when I pulled up at ten after seven, and I wondered if he was in the shower or something. I parked on the street, got the grocery bags from my trunk, and trudged through the snow to his front door. Putting one bag down and shifting the other to my hip, I knocked a few times.

When he didn’t answer, I picked up the second bag and went around to the back of the house. The kitchen appeared dark too. I knocked again and even tried opening the back door, but it was locked.

Huh.

I set down both bags, pulled off my gloves, and checked my phone. Quarter after seven and no message or call from Mack. Double checking the earlier texts, I made sure I hadn’t gotten the time wrong, but I hadn’t—I’d said seven, and he’d said that was perfect. I hoped nothing was wrong. Biting my lip, I looked around. Garage door was shut, so I couldn’t tell if his car was in there or not.

Well, now what was I supposed to do? I didn’t have a key. Should I wait in the car? Go home? Try to call him? I decided to text first.

Hey, I’m here.





Adding a smiley face emoji, I hit send.

And waited.

Nothing.

My fingers were starting to freeze, so I left the groceries on the back porch, got back in the car, and tried again.

Are you home? I tried the front

and back door, but both are locked.





I waited about five minutes, turning the car on for the heat.

Nothing.

Then I tried calling. Straight to voicemail.

“Hey Mack, it’s me. Um, Frannie. I’m at your house, I thought we said seven, but maybe I got the time wrong? Anyway, I hope everything’s okay. Give me a call when you can. I guess I’ll … just head back home. I’ve got groceries.”

I drove home slowly, stopping at every yellow light, checking my phone often, and taking a circuitous route. But Mack never got in touch.

Back at home, I unpacked the grocery bags and decided to cook the dinner I’d planned on. When the shells were in the oven, I texted both April and Chloe, asking them if they wanted to come over for dinner. But Chloe was out with friends, and April had already gone home for the night and didn’t feel like making the drive.

I ended up eating alone with the television on, but even a sappy Valentine’s movie on the Hallmark channel didn’t ease my mind. What on earth had happened? Was everyone okay? Why hadn’t he at least called?

By ten o’clock, the dishes were done and the leftovers put away, but I knew there was no way I’d be able to sleep. I was too scared something awful had happened. My dinner was not sitting well in my stomach. Throwing my coat and boots on again, I jumped in my car and drove back to his house.

As I turned onto his street, I noticed lights on in his living room window. Slowing down, I pulled up along the curb and put the car in park. What the hell? Was he home? Why hadn’t he returned my messages?

I got out of the car, hurried up the driveway, and knocked on the back door.





Mack





I was prying the cap off a much-needed beer when I heard the knock. My gut clenched, and I went to answer it.