Crave (The Gibson Boys 3)

I laugh. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you know each other well.”

“I’ve known Mach since I was fourteen,” I tell him. “We’ve been friends for a long time.”

Machlan shakes his head, walking around the bar and positioning himself between Spencer and me. My focus starts to waver as the intoxicating mixture of his cologne and energy wallops me from head to toe.

“Friends,” Machlan repeats. His lips twist in amusement. “That’s us. Friends.”

“Maybe that’s too strong of a word.” I flip my gaze back to Spencer. “We’ve been acquaintances for a long time. My brother and Machlan are best friends. We’re just in the same circle, I guess.”

Machlan completely ignores Spencer’s presence. He pierces me with his gaze. I shift in my seat and try to block out the questions Machlan is burning into my brain.

I take a deep breath and try to redirect this mess. “How is your mother?” I ask Spencer.

“Oh, she’s good. She and Dad are leaving for their end-of-summer vacation next week. It’s all I hear about.”

“Did they pick Oregon or Maine?” I ask.

Spencer starts to answer, but Machlan cuts him off.

“How do you two know each other again?” he asks, obviously perturbed.

“Hadley has worked in my mother’s dental office for quite a while now,” Spencer says. “Mom thinks a lot of her.”

My cheeks heat. “Well, your mom is pretty amazing.”

Spencer releases the handle to his briefcase. His arms cross over his chest as he looks at me, then at Machlan, and finally back at me.

The feeling in the room changes, shifting from an easy banter to something more serious. Machlan feels it too because he takes a step toward me.

“Hadley …” Spencer takes a deep breath, looks briefly at Machlan, and then rests his attention back on me. “Do you come here a lot?”

I have no idea what’s going on. The way he asks this question makes me immediately uncomfortable, and Machlan’s reaction to it worries me. He stretches his neck like he does when he’s frustrated, and that’s never, ever a good thing.

Suddenly, I’m curious. Probably too curious for my own good.

“I do,” I lie. “Why do you ask?”

Machlan mumbles something under his breath, but I can’t make it out.

“How much do you know about this business?” Spencer asks.

“Let’s leave her out of this,” Machlan says.

“Um, let’s not.” I lean against the bar and settle in.

Spencer sighs. “I know Hadley. I trust her judgment.”

“That’d be your first mistake,” Machlan says.

I rise up. “Excuse me?” Not that I particularly care what this is all about, but I’m not about to be excluded from it now. Not after that little comment. “I know a ton about this business.”

“You do, do you?” Machlan asks.

Spencer smiles. “Have you ever worked here?”

My heartbeat quickens as I see my opening. Machlan sees it too. His lips part to interject before I can say something stupid, which I’m about to do. But, lucky for me, I can talk faster than him.

“Funnily enough, I’m starting here this week.” The words come out in a rush—almost as quick as the glare from Machlan. “I have a couple of weeks before I start my new job, so I told Mach I’d come by and help out.”

“Oh my God,” Machlan groans.

Spencer picks up his briefcase. With a distinct nod of his head, he turns to Machlan. “I’ll have a contract sent to you tonight.”

“What?” Machlan’s eyes grow wide.

“I don’t know.” Spencer laughs. “Not that your presentation wasn’t compelling, but I feel better about this knowing Hadley knows you. You know how it is in this day and age. Who do you trust?”

“You can trust him,” I say, softer than I intend. “You can trust Machlan.”

The rise and fall of Machlan’s chest matches mine—in and out in such rapid succession that it makes it hard to actually even breathe. Spencer says something about faxing the contract again, and Machlan nods. I wave without looking as Spencer says goodbye.

Before I know it, it’s just me and Machlan. And Machlan doesn’t look happy.

* * *

Machlan

“What the fuck was that?”

My words are ringing through the air as the door slams shut behind Spencer. There’s a bite to my tone, a jagged edge to each syllable that’s delivered with precision. I wait for Hadley to react. All I get is a slight roll of her eyes.

“What’s what?” she asks.

My head spins, the events of the last few minutes tumbling through my mind and clamoring against each other. I can’t make sense of any of it.

“You don’t trust me,” I say. “So what was that all about? Why did you lie for me?”

“I didn’t say I trusted you.”

“You just told Spencer he could.”

She jumps off the stool and places her hands on her narrow hips. “That’s Spencer.”

She’s inches away, close enough for me to actually hear every breath she takes. Each soft intake of air feels like an invisible arm pulling me toward her.