Free Overdrive by Chloe Cole Page B

heat.
    Their labored breaths re-steamed the mirrors, and he bowed forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he managed as his heartbeat finally started to slow.
    She gave his bottom a weak pat. He leaned back to see her trembling smile. “If you think that was good, wait until you see what a full meal will get you.”
     
     
    An hour later Frankie held up a can of whipped topping as Mac took a pint of heavy cream from the cooler. “You’re going to make it? From scratch?” Her wide-eyed wonder made him want to tweak her nose, but he refrained.
    “Yep. That’s the best part. You can help me whisk it up. It’s a good workout.” As he put the carton into their cart, she set the can back in the refrigerator. “Blueberries or strawberries?”
    She chewed her lower lip and mulled it over. “Both?”
    “That’s what I’m talking about.” He pushed the cart over to the produce section. Frankie fell into step beside him, and they chatted amiably. They reached the fruit section, and he bumped her with his hip. “Go on, pick what looks good.” He watched her, mesmerized by her careful selection technique as she held the containers to the light and gave the tops a gentle squeeze.
    He loved the graceful way she moved. Loved the way she committed to everything she did wholeheartedly. Loved seeing her in his clothes. Loved…her. It was no revelation, but for the first time he felt like he might have a shot at convincing her they were meant to be together.
    He was deep in thought, trying to figure out how to make this— her —a fixture in his life, when a shrill voice interrupted his reflections.
    “Mackenzie?”
    Frankie’s whole body stiffened, as if she’d been whapped by a taser. He bit back a sigh and pasted a welcoming smile on his face.
    “Hello, Ma.”
     
    Frankie pinched her eyes closed as heat suffused her face. What were the odds of Mac’s mother shopping at eight o’clock in the morning? Or grocery shopping at all, for that matter.
    “You know I abhor that nickname. Mother will do. Who is this?”
    Frankie could feel the weight of the older woman’s stare and turned to face her. “Hello, Mrs. Galbraith.”
    “Francesca Sepkaski? I nearly didn’t recognize you with all those clothes on.” Her dour expression turned even more severe as her gaze flicked Frankie from head to toe, taking in her disheveled hair and the New York Giants sweatshirt that clearly belonged to Mac. She aimed an I-demand-answers glare toward her son.
    “Yes, but she goes by Frankie. Still.” He added the last with a pointed look.
    “It’s okay, Mac. Francesca is fine.”
    “No, it isn’t.”
    “Well, the two of you can debate about it if you’d like, but I’m not calling her Frankie either way. It makes her sound like an unruly Italian boy from the Bronx,” Mimi sniffed. She pronounced it like “eye-talian”, and Mac didn’t bother to hide his eye roll.
    “What are you doing here, anyway? You realize this is a grocery store, right?”
    “Don’t take that tone with me. I was on my way to meet CeeCee at the tennis court, and I saw your car. Since you haven’t been returning my calls, I thought it would be a good idea to stop in, say hello and remind you about your date with Melissa tonight.”
    A wave of nausea gripped Frankie, and she set the berries back in the display case.
    “I haven’t forgotten,” Mac said grimly. He tried to catch her eye, but she stared at the fruit instead as hot tears pricked her lids.
    “So long as you remember your obligations,” Mimi said.
    “And so long as you remember that’s exactly what this evening is to me. An obligation.”
    “I merely asked if you would accompany her. You agreed readily enough, and it would be unbearably rude to cancel on such short notice.”
    “I had no intention of canceling. Nor did I have any intention of repeating the exercise. I accepted because you asked me to. If you somehow took it to mean that Melissa Figbert