She either noticed his defensive movement or decided to change tactics, because she stopped in her advance and studied him in an extremely unnerving way that made him shift his feet. “Well, I’ll let you get settled in.”
She turned and started to walk away, Skylar right on her heels. Mac breathed a sigh of relief. She’d picked up on his disinterest and was taking the hint.
The relief was short-lived as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “See you at eight, handsome.”
Her eyes eased up his body with such appreciation he felt it all the way to his groin. Another husky chuckle came from her as she turned her head back around. The seductive sway of her jeans-covered backside held him captivated. Mac shook himself, appalled he was gawking.
He spun on his friend. “She’s trouble, Lance.”
“Gayle? Ah, you’ll love her.”
“Really? What could I possibly have in common with someone that young? For that matter, what do you have in common with her? For God’s sake, Lance, she’s teetering on the edge of jailbait for guys like us.”
Lance laughed. “Dude, she’s thirty-two.”
Mac whipped his head back toward her. She and Lance’s little girl had made their way to the side of the house. She was only four years younger than him? “No way.”
“Way. She has a damn doctorate in meteorology or something to that effect. But don’t feel bad, okay? I made the same mistake when I met her. I even asked where her parents were after she moved in. I got the same amused reaction. She knew you thought she was young. She’s a lot of fun. She doesn’t have a filter, though. So be prepared.”
Okay, so the age difference was a no-go as a reason to stay the fuck away from her. Damn it, he didn’t like that. Didn’t like his reaction to her. He needed something negative to focus on. She seemed to be a handful. Two handfuls, actually. And he didn’t have time for a handful. Or any woman, for that matter. “I don’t need to prepare, because I’m not going.”
“Come on, Mac. She doesn’t bite.” He nudged him. “Unless you want her to.”
Mac jerked back, scowling. “I don’t want her to bite anything. I have absolutely zero interest in women.”
Except for just now. And it completely freaked his shit.
His friend sobered. “Wait. Are you telling me you haven’t dated at all since… It’s been over four years, Mac.”
“Yeah. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“I knew it.” Lance scratched the back of his head and gave a derisive snort. “I told Piper she was wrong, but I let her convince me otherwise. Damn it.”
At his friend’s sudden change in attitude, Mac’s defensive shield locked into place. “What the fuck are you talking about, man?”
“That cold motherfucker I’ve been watching on the TV for the last few years. The one who is short with reporters. Never smiles. That’s not for show. That’s who you are now.” Lance glared at Mac. “I told you to stay here. That leaving your home wasn’t going to fix anything, but you were adamant. Now look at you…you didn’t heal. You’re hollow. Lifeless. Ally would be horrified.”
Rage erupted so quickly he charged forward, raising his fist to slam it into Lance’s disapproving face. At the last second, he made himself stop, and instead grabbed a handful of shirt and tugged him forward until their noses almost touched. He said between gritted teeth, “If you’ve got a problem with the way I’ve dealt with my wife’s death, I’ll be more than fucking happy to leave.”
The man didn’t even flinch, just gave another snort as he shook his head. “Man, you really have changed. In almost thirty years of friendship you have never raised a fist at me in anger.”
Stunned, Mac jerked back. Jesus. He’d never snapped like that. “Lance, I—”
“So, that’s it,” he interrupted. “That’s how you’ve coped. You beat the shit out of people—legally.”
Anger started to fester again. “You know what? Fuck you, man. I didn’t come here for a goddamn intervention. It’s my fucking life, and I’m fine with the way it is.” He took an aggressive step forward and pointed a finger at him. “People change, buddy. If you can’t handle that, that’s your deal, not mine. Just count yourself lucky your life has been so perfect you haven’t been forced to change to cope.”
“My life has been anything but perfect, and you would know that if you’d checked in at all over the last four years. But you haven’t. The few times I called, you rushed me off the phone because you were too busy becoming”—Lance’s chin notched up—“Mac ‘The Snake’ Hannon.” Distaste coated his voice as he used Mac’s fighter name. “It’s time for you to get reacquainted with just plain old Mac Hannon.”