Speaking of Love (Perfect Kisses) by Ophelia London Page B

just made a fool of herself.
    “Idiot,” she heard Rick repeat.
    “I know,” Mac agreed, feeling tears of embarrassment behind her eyes. She was an idiot. Why didn’t her life have one of those do-over remote controls? She would take it all back and spare the current humiliation.
    “I’m serious,” Rick continued, leaning forward a few inches. “I mean, what kind of supreme idiot was this guy?”
    She stared at him.
    “Mac.” He leaned forward another inch. “If we were together and…” He stopped himself and leaned back. “Well, not we ,” he corrected, pushing up one sleeve of his sweatshirt. “I mean, if I was ever lucky enough to be with…with someone I loved, I would live in a barn of homeless dogs if that was what it took to keep her.”
    “Do you like dogs?” Mac asked. It seemed like a rational question, and the only thing she could think of to say.
    Rick knit his eyebrows. “That’s not the point,” he said after a moment.
    Mac’s throat went dry and she couldn’t swallow.
    “And I do like dogs,” Rick added. “I had a golden retriever when I was a kid.”
    “What was its name?”
    He pulled back a half smile. “Madison.” He paused. “She died.”
    Mac’s chest felt heavy. “I’m sorry.”
    Rick shook his head and reached for the soda in Mac’s hand. He tipped his head back, took a long drink, then gave it back. Mac was shocked. They’d never shared a drink before. Not that she minded. It just felt so…natural.
    “Anyway,” he said. “What were we talking about before?”
    Rick didn’t want to talk about his dog, and Mac did not want to talk about her broken heart. So…
    “We were talking about the paper,” she said.
    Rick looked at her. “We were?” After a moment, he smiled. “Subtle hint to change the subject?”
    “I am the queen of subtle.”
    …
    Rick felt like he needed to roll down the window. Or maybe run about ten miles through the snow.
    Live in a barn of homeless dogs? If they lived in a barn, would they still be homeless?
    He was going mental. And what was he doing telling Mac that he would basically do anything to be with her? Not the most productive way to spend an afternoon while waiting to meet up with another woman.
    Mac was right to change the subject. This was going nowhere.
    “The newspaper is good,” he said. “Less exciting than your speech classes. Unless there’s a triple homicide this weekend, all I’ve got on my plate is the Lincoln Park vote on…” He trailed off. Another nowhere subject.
    “Right,” Mac said. It was quiet for a few moments. “Ya know, it would be really nice to get some support from you. If the paper—”
    “Mackenzie.”
    “Just hear me out.” She turned and sat forward. “It’s not just about the park. It’s the life of the community. I learned how to do cartwheels in that park. I had my first kiss in the woods. The kids at school take their dogs there, away from traffic. Why don’t you write about that?”
    “I have.”
    “Write it again!”
    “No.”
    She growled, but her eyes were sparkling. “Are you deliberately trying to make me kill you?”
    Rick laughed. “You know, I’ve heard that some men find women with a temper sexy.” He glanced out the window. “It’s a good thing I’m not one of them.”
    Mac sat back, folded her arms, and groaned.
    He smiled again, knowing she was trying to calm herself down. It was quite enjoyable to watch. Maybe he was beginning to find a healthy temper sexy after all.
    “You don’t understand what losing this park would mean,” Mac continued a few minutes later, after finishing her soda and the Snickers bar.
    “It’s not the whole park,” Rick said, taking the empty wrapper and stuffing it into the ashtray. “What makes you think the act will get voted through?”
    Mac rubbed her fists into her eyes. “Because obviously I haven’t had very good luck lately.” The comment seemed to be mostly to herself. She shivered.
    Rick looked out the window.