Winning Love (4 page)

She put her hand on the basket and said, “I brought the makings for homemade pizza for lunch. What do you say we roll out the dough while we wait for your daddy to get home?”

“Yeah!” Skylar jumped up and down.

Heat crept up Mac’s cheeks. And now he was an even bigger asshole.

“Hey, Uncle Mac, would you like to help?”

Instinct pushed him to immediately say no, but the hopeful, excited gleam in the child’s green eyes froze the word on his tongue as a slice of pain tore across his chest.

“Yeah, Uncle Mac, what do you say? Want to roll some dough?”

The challenge in Gayle’s voice jerked his attention to her. Her gaze was steady. Knowing.
Mocking
. He clenched his jaw. Okay. He deserved that. He’d made himself look like an idiot, which gave her the advantage. For now.

“Sure,” he grudgingly agreed.

Her lips twisted into a cocky smile. “Good.”

With the agreement, an awkward silence fell in the kitchen—or maybe it was only awkward to him. He spent his social time in a gym with fighters. Men. The rest he spent in solitude. He didn’t remember how to chat up women or interact with little girls.

Running his hands through his hair, he flicked his gaze toward the hall—toward escape—as pressure started to build in his chest. A ridiculous reaction. But Gayle scared the ever-loving hell out of him, and Skylar—well, that sweet little girl was just a little too hard to look at.

“We’re not going to bite, handsome.”

Damn it.
His gaze shot to Gayle. The arched brow and amused lips sent anger blasting through him.
Okay, Hannon. Time to bring The Snake into action. Treat this like you would when meeting an opponent in the cage.

Wiping his face of emotion, he squared his shoulders and started toward the counter.

That brow notched up another fraction. “Impressive. I take it the cage fighter is among us now, and not Mac.”

He froze. Jesus Christ. The woman called him on every damn thing he did and left him fumbling for footing. He hated every second of it.

She shrugged and started pulling things out of the basket. “Whatever you’ve got to do, handsome.” She shoved a bag of flour at him. “Take this and measure out four cups. You can handle that, right?”

It was his turn to lift a brow. So, she had no idea about his past career. Good. “I think I can handle it.” He glanced down at the bag of all-purpose flour. “Bread flour would’ve been a better choice.”

As she stared at the package in his hand, her nose scrunched in confusion. “That would make bread, right?”

At the outright bewilderment she didn’t even try to hide, a laugh tickled his chest. Covering it up with a cough, he shook his head. “Never mind.”

He grabbed a measuring cup and a bowl from under the counter and scanned the ingredients Gayle had pulled from the basket. He tried not to scowl at the assortment of canned items. He made a killer homemade marinara sauce, but it would go unappreciated by an eight-year-old. His eyes landed on the table salt. Nope. He twisted, grabbed the kosher sea salt from the counter behind him, and switched it out with the other, which Gayle didn’t miss.

She slowly turned her head to stare at him. “You got a problem with regular salt?”

Deciding to keep his mouth shut, he just shrugged his shoulders.

“Whatever floats your boat, handsome,” she muttered, lightly shaking her head.

A smile tugged at his lips, taking him aback. That seemed to happen a lot around this woman. Not only did she infuriate him and shock him, she amused the hell out of him. A worrisome combination. If he didn’t watch it, he might actually find himself enjoying her company.

As she instructed Skylar to pour the pre-measured flour, yeast, and salt in the bowl of a stand mixer, he looked around for the missing ingredient.

“You forgot a teaspoon of sugar.”

“The recipe didn’t call for sugar.”

“Well, I’m telling you it needs a teaspoon of sugar.”

One hand popped on her hip. “What are you, some secret Martha Stewart ninja?”

There went that damn tug of the lips again. “No. I’m definitely not Martha Stewart.” He couldn’t decorate to save his life. “I just happen to know a thing or two about making homemade pizza.”

She lifted Skylar to sit on the counter, then waved her hand toward the machine. “By all means, handsome, take the helm and show us ladies how it’s done.”

Just as a few minutes earlier, the challenge rang clear in her voice as she kept eye contact with him. She had no issue throwing out one, did she?

“Be prepared to be amazed.”

He added the needed sugar and turned on the mixer. As the metal hook slowly turned and combined the ingredients, he poured in the water and oil. Keeping tabs on the consistency, he added more flour or water until the dough was a perfect ball. Then he spread flour on a wooden board, put the dough on it, and started kneading.

An appreciative “
Mmm
,” came from his left.

He glanced over to find Gayle leaning her elbows on the counter with her chin perched on her palm. Their gazes collided, and she mouthed the words, “So hot.”

A rush of heat suffused his entire body. He halted in mid-knead.
Fuck.
There wasn’t a misinterpretation of her intentions she could play up with outrageous behavior right now. Jerking his gaze away, he refocused on the dough. The memory of those lips mouthing those words seared into his brain. Was this Gayle in full Gayle mode? He didn’t know if he could handle this Gayle.

When he finally had the dough where it needed to be, he placed it in a bowl and put plastic wrap over the top to let it rise. “Done. It should be ready in about an—”

A sharp smack to his ass shocked the words right out of his mouth.

“Great job, handsome. Let’s play a game while we wait.”

He stood ramrod straight as Gayle swept by him, uncertain if he was more stunned by the sudden smack to his butt or the frightening jolt of lust he’d felt from her bold action.

Taking a steadying inhale, he focused on expelling the tension from his body.

Let’s play a game, she’d said.

He didn’t think he wanted to play games with Gayle Matthews. Something told him she was a master gamesman and he was going to end up on the losing side every time.

And he didn’t like to lose.

F
or a third time, Gayle had to chomp down on her bottom lip to keep a laugh in as Mac’s stunned expression filled her mind again—one of two stunned expressions he’d given her over the course of the last half hour. The one that had twisted his handsome face when she suggested this full-body contact game had almost topped the one when she’d smacked his ass. Almost.

She flicked the spinner. “Left foot on the green circle.”

Mac sent her a furious scowl and she sucked in her cheeks to keep her mirth from spilling out into the open. God, the delicious man was too much fun not to mess with.

She
had
taken pity on him and let him be the caller the first round. But when she’d fallen on her ass trying to reach a blue circle, he’d had to take her place. Those were the rules—which she’d reminded him of when he’d resisted her attempt to take the spinner from his hand.

Mac somehow maneuvered his left foot around his right hand and got it on a green circle about a mile’s stretch away. Nice. The view was nice, too. In camo shorts and white tank top, he was giving a magnificent muscle flexing show. The man was simply magnificent. Even his curmudgeon attitude couldn’t detract from that.

Besides, he allowed enough amusement to show through his gruff exterior that she wasn’t the least bit daunted by his attempts to push her away. He would have a better chance if those enticing lips would stop twitching at the corners, letting her know he wanted oh-so-badly to smile. The fact that he fought the impulse made him all the more intriguing to her.

“Okay, Skylar, your turn.” Gayle spun the arrow. “Right foot, red.”

The little girl groaned. “Really?”

With her little hands splayed on the red dots on one side of the plastic mat and her feet on the green dots on the opposite side, the move wasn’t going to be easy. Skylar hated to lose.

Gayle grinned. “Sorry.”

She brought her right foot forward, getting it as far as the line of blue before she simply tilted over onto her side. The fall was so fast and so dramatic, Gayle burst into laughter, and Skylar followed with her childish cackle, which made Gayle laugh even harder. She loved the pure, unapologetic joy of a child.

She glanced over at Mac to share the moment, and all her enjoyment faded. What would have brought an immediate grin to anyone else’s face, failed to do so on Mac’s. The stricken expression was filled with such sadness and longing as he stared down at the child, Gayle’s heart clenched tight.

He jerked his gaze away and directed it across the room, shoving his hand through his hair, a swallow working his throat.

This man must have one hell of story.

Time to lighten the mood again. “Okay, Skylar. You know what that means?”

The little girl jumped up. “It’s my turn to call and it’s yours and Uncle Mac’s turn to twist.”

If his head had whipped around any faster it would have flown clean off his shoulders. At least he was distracted from whatever past demon had surfaced.

“That would be correct, Skylar.” She cocked the challenging eyebrow she was quickly learning goaded the hell out of him. “How about it, handsome? A friendly competition between adults. Which one of us has the best balance?”

As expected, the angular jut of his jawline tightened. He really shouldn’t make it so easy for her to read him. The man simply could not back down from a challenge—even from her. Which gave her all the power.

He walked toward her. “I’m the only one in the room who hasn’t fallen yet.”

“Because you’ve only played once.”

“And I stayed on my feet. The one time you played, someone landed flat on her a—” He cleared his throat, his gaze shooting over to Skylar. “
Er
, backside. Seems to me I’m already the victor between the adults.”

The man was just as bad as Skylar about winning. Gayle would have to change strategy. “It’s pretty sad that a grown man would claim victory over an eight-year-old when the only reason she couldn’t make the move was because she is an
eight-year-old
. I would’ve been able to make that move.”

He pressed his lips together, but not before she saw the twitch at the corners. To seal the deal, she crossed her arms over her chest, cocked one hip out, and pursed her lips in a
what-are-you-going-to-say-to-that?
way.

He immediately dropped his head, but she’d seen it. Oh. My. God. She’d seen it. A flash of white teeth. Handsome had smiled. Unfortunately, she hadn’t received the full effect or seen how it transformed his face, but still, he’d failed to keep it buttoned up.

She was getting to him.

It wouldn’t be long and he’d smile just because he wouldn’t remember not to. The thought almost brought a smile to her own lips.

When he looked up, he had control over his mouth muscles again and had them set in a stern line. “You’re on.”

“Bring. It.” Waving her fingers in the motion that went with those words, she stepped onto the mat.

Again the stern expression cracked as he squared off with her. He was a good head taller than she was and she tilted her head back to gaze up at him. Narrowed brown eyes glared back down at her. Good gracious almighty, she liked this. A lot. Everything about the man was commanding. Compact. Tight.

A flutter swept low in her belly. Yeah, she wanted this man.

“Gayle, right foot, yellow circle.”

With Skylar here, she would have to keep things G-rated, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a bit of fun. Without breaking eye contract with Mac, she slipped her foot between his spread legs to the lone yellow circle between his feet and brought her breasts closer to his chest. Other than a slight jerk back and some major tensing of his body, he gave no reaction.

“Uncle Mac, right foot, green circle.”

An audible exhale came from him as he shifted backward until the required foot was on the correct color, putting the lines of yellow and red circles between their bodies. Okay, so he responded to verbal challenges, but was still gun-shy about physical ones. She could respect that—for now.

“Gayle, left foot, red.” She moved her foot to the assigned color, inching closer to Mac again.

“Uncle Mac, left foot, green circle.” Noticeable frustration crossed his face at having to remain in the same spot. The thrill of the chase shivered through her. This was a lot more fun than she’d expected.

“Gayle, left hand, red.”

She glanced down at the rows before her, where she had one foot already positioned on yellow and one directly in front of Mac on red, then glanced up at him. Her naughty side roared forward with a vengeance. Hadn’t she just thought she could respect his unspoken cues? She studied the circle again.

Nope. Forget respect. She had to do it. Opportunities like this didn’t arise often enough, and she would not let one pass by. Plus, it was fun watching the yummy fighter who faced big, bad, aped-up gorillas in a cage get all awkward when she did something outrageous.

Thankfully, Skylar was way too young to read into this, but Mac would see the adult intention crystal clear. Keeping her expression innocent, Gayle slowly crouched until she was zipper level with his camo shorts, placed her hand on the circle, and tilted her head back to look up at him. His head tilted up toward the ceiling, and softly mumbled
Fuck
s rolled from his mouth.

Oh, yeah. He was reading into it exactly what she wanted him to.

She heard the spinner turn on the cardboard. “Uncle Mac, right hand, red.”

An audible groan sounded as he bent to place his palm on the circle beside her, bringing his face in close. Tension carved deep grooves around his tightly pressed lips and anger burned as he glared at her. She flashed him a bright smile. His eyes narrowed dangerously. Man, if she could get all that built-in hostility to channel into passion, this man would rock her socks off.