Free Her Last Best Fling by Candace Havens Page B

to edit the piece, which might give her an out. But he’d find a way around that.
    I know what I have to do.

8
    T HE SUN DIPPED below the lake and the wind gusted. Standing on the back deck of her uncle’s place, Macy threw the ball for Harley. The dog loved to run, a little. It wasn’t long before Harley kept the ball in her mouth and walked past Macy into the house where she dropped it into her basket of toys.
    Chuckling, Macy shut the door and locked it. Using the remote, she turned on the fireplace, and padded to the kitchen to see if her marinara was ready. She’d made the sauce in the slow cooker earlier in the day. Her housekeeper had the next two weeks off while she cared for her ailing grandson, who had chicken pox. From what Macy could discern, the itchy disease had made the rounds of most of the elementary school and a number of day cares. They’d done a small feature about how to care for children and adults with the disease.
    Macy didn’t mind being on her own. If she had a choice, she’d let the housekeeper go. But she didn’t. After setting a pot of water on the stove to boil, she picked up her cell phone to make sure she hadn’t missed a call.
    His call.
    Blake had left a message at the office that he was busy at the feed store. He said he’d let her know when he could come by to do the accounting. It was almost five-thirty and he hadn’t contacted her.
    He was either really busy, or he might have forgotten.
    Why was she disappointed? She’d heard through the Tranquil Waters grapevine that his mother was out of town for some reason.
    “Cassidy Lee said she happened to spot Blake out behind the store, loading lumber into a truck.” Macy had eavesdropped on the waitress’s conversation as she lingered by the register at the café to pay for her lunch. The waitress in question had the rapt attention of a table full of women. “He had his shirt off, and she said it took everything she had not to walk up to him and start licking his abs. It’s not a six, it’s an eight-pack, ladies. And he has those sexy cut-ins on his hip. I asked her about the scars from his injuries, and she said, ‘What scars? I was too distracted by those muscles.’”
    The table of women whooped.
    “Imagine how hot he must have been to take his shirt off when it’s so chilly outside.” One of the women fanned her face. “I think I might have to stop by the feed store to pick up some—” she paused for a few seconds “—seeds.”
    The other women tittered and joked.
    Blake was a hot commodity in this town. Most of the men his age and a little older were for one reason or another not available. She’d learned that bit of news from Amanda, who said she went to Austin if she wanted to dance because then she didn’t have to worry about some guy’s wife giving her a hard time the next day.
    While Macy waited for the water to boil, she cleaned up the mess Harley had made around her food bowl. The dog had no manners when it came to drinking and eating. She was well behaved otherwise, so Macy had no real complaints.
    Once the noodles were ready, she put her meal together but skipped the garlic bread since her favorite jeans were a little tight. She should probably up her visits to the pool. She hated dieting and her knee still bothered her, so running was out.
    Taking a bite of spaghetti, she closed her eyes and moaned about the delicious flavors. The sauce recipe had come from a chef she’d met when she was in Italy, covering the launch of a new political party.
    Her cell vibrated on the counter.
    Thinking it was Blake, she answered it.
    “It’s about time,” Garrison, her ex, said. The man’s voice was as smooth as silk. But the instant she heard it, she cringed.
    “Don’t hang up. I can hear you breathing. Look, something’s coming down the pike and I wanted to give you a—”
    “I’ll make it simple for you. No. Whatever it is, whatever you think you need to tell me, my answer is no. Don’t ever call me