She weighed her hunger, debating if the extra $2.28 for the full-size salad was necessary.
Nah, half-salad it was.
She grabbed the plastic container, then turned to find a man wearing a store uniform standing rather close behind her. His back was to her, and his hand was pressed against the side of his face.
He spoke clearly, "Yes, an officer, please. He's, uh, tall - black hoodie. A woman's with him. She's got a big green bag." A pause, then, "I can check the cameras, but I'm pretty sure it's just those two."
Interest piqued, Mackenzie hesitated a moment longer, hoping that the man would explain exactly why he was calling 911. Instead, the man walked off, looking out the massive glass entrance to the grocery store. He bobbed his head back and forth, clearly searching.
Deciding to mind her business, she continued toward the self-checkout and purchased her salad.
As she exited, the automatic doors swooshed open, and another man - this one matching the description given to the dispatcher - stood just outside.
She'd have to pass within arm's reach of the man in the black hoodie.
"S'cuse me," she muttered, her eyes downcast. Polite, but not engaging. The last thing she wanted was to be part of a dust-up on her lunch break.
"Hey, c'mon, man. Cops are on their way - you wanna just come with me?"
Mackenzie stepped a little quicker, passing Hoodie Man as he froze, his eyes wide with panic at being caught. She felt more than saw Hoodie Man turn toward the employee, and lunge at him.
Trying to put distance between herself and the ensuing showdown, she could see the flash of red and blue bouncing off the fog as the cops approached. Why had she chosen that day to park near the back of the lot?
The shouting and scuffling behind her escalated and moved with her out into the lot, until the employee's warning shout hit her, "Behind you!"
Mackenzie turned sharply and was stunned by the sight of the fleeing man rushing her. He demanded, "Car, car, gimme your keys!" Terrified, she tucked her chin, waiting for him to grab her. He couldn't have been more than three feet away, but the touch didn't come from that direction.
A hand grabbed her upper arm and yanked her sideways. She hit something tall and unmoving, gasping once in surprise. The man (she could smell his cologne. She knew him?) jerked her further, and now he stood in front of her.
His voice was always so slow, as though he seasoned each word with his Texas accent before it left his mouth. "Get the fuck outta here," a familiar voice threatened.
There was no way. No way he was here. She'd noticed him driving the other way on their lunch break.
The man was quite a bit taller than both Hoodie Man and she, so she did not see the fleeing man. But she did hear him say, "Yeah, man, that's what I was doing."
She heard Hoodie step forward, maybe intending on mugging both of them, but her boss moved forward, too. "Listen, man, Ah've lived through a lot worse than this. Jus'-"
She watched her boss double over - heard the wind knocked from his lungs.
"Oh, my god!" She cried. "Here, here take my keys, I don't care!"
She held out her hand, keys jangling, but Glenn stood and coughed. He held his arm toward her, and said, "Ah got it."
Looking between him and their attacker, Mackenzie realized this was about to devolve. She started to switch to the mace kept on her keyring, but Glenn didn't need it. He angrily threw his right fist into the man's temple with a growl, sending him into the damp pavement with a sickening crack. Hoodie Man rolled, clutching his head.
Police rushed them at that moment, though Mackenzie understood later they had been shouting for the three to stop for some moments as they assessed the situation.
To her immediate horror, she reached for Glenn's left hand and was equally surprised when he clasped it firmly. He glanced sideways down at her with one short, reassuring look. As though it was just another day, and she was silly for being nervous.
A cop knelt down and roughly cuffed the barely-conscious man on the ground. A few others helped him get to his feet, then hauled him into a waiting Ford Escape.
"Ironic car name," she pointed out to the man next to her. He snorted and shook his head. A thought occurred to her, "Um. Glenn, they won't take you, too, right?" she whispered. "I don't know how much they saw..."
"I'll be fine," he drawled, winking.
She couldn't help but grin in response to his ridiculous confidence, every ounce of her crush lighting her smile. He was irritating. From the joking darts in the work chat to the way his eyes seemed to find her even when they were in a crowded meeting, he had a hold on her that she was happy to let him keep.
Glenn was older than her by a significant margin; but in Mackenzie's opinion, thirty was a fine age to date anyone above the age of twenty-five. And he was nearly double that. It only made him better.
"Ma'am," one of the police officers addressed her. "I need your statement." He tossed a glance up at the man beside her. Glenn didn't much like cops, and the flat look on his face let the young officer know it.
"Over here," the cop jerked his head, indicating that she follow alone.
With more reluctance than she could admit, she dropped Glenn's hand. Well, that'll never happen again. Fucking cop. His arm fell to his side with a quiet sound. At the same time, another officer began reading Glenn his Miranda Rights.
"I know. I know all that," she heard him utter with impatience. She stifled a laugh. Glenn hadn't been shy telling her his less-than-law-abiding past.
Her favorite story had been the one where he made fake IDs and crossed the Mexican border for the sole purpose of getting a beer in a bar that played better music than his hometown's non-carding dive bar.
The officer led her a short distance away and began questioning her. His name was Morales. She could see his name on the opposite side of his chest from his very shiny badge. At first, Morales' questions were benign, but something about his questions tipped Mackenzie off.
"The witness who called 911 said this guy ran at you. Did he make contact?"
"No." He didn't get the chance.
"You're sure? He never grazed you? Spit on you? Nothing?"
"No, he didn't reach me."
"Alright. I can't hit him with an assault charge, then. But, uh," Morales's eyes shot over her shoulder. "You know the man in the blue shirt?"
"Yes. He's my boss."
"Boss?" The officer's voice colored with suspicion. "You work for him?"
"No, he's just my supervisor. At work. I work for a company, and he holds the position right above mine. But not by much. It's more like my position, but with a hell of a lot more responsibility," Mackenzie rambled.
"He's not your pimp?"
Aghast, Mackenzie protested, "No! No, what the fuck. I'm not a-"
"Y'alright?" Glenn called, ignoring his interrogator's asking him to please, stop talking to the witnesses.
Mackenzie turned and nodded, swallowing thickly at the concern in Glenn's brown eyes. His eyes narrowed, and he pursed his lips beneath his beard, as if to say, Okay, but these cops can suck start a shotgun for all I care.
"I had to ask," Morales said. "You're a young girl. He's..." the officer trailed off. "Well, you can understand how it looks."
Sputtering, her face lining with anger at each word, Mackenzie held up her palm, clarifying, "One, I'm thirty. Two, he's my legitimate boss, and he is a good man. I don't understand, actually. He possibly just saved my life, and if you need anything else, how about you check the damn cameras on the front of the building?"
Mackenzie strode back toward Glenn, stopping a few feet from him when the officer questioning him held up his hand.
The man who had called 911 originally had one of the store's security guards by the sleeve, dragging the guy.
"Mr. Lewis, we will cross that bridge when we come to it. I watched this man knock another man unconscious. That's pretty clear."
"No! No, you can't do that!" Mackenzie started forward, wanting to put herself between them, but the store employee - the security guard Mr. Lewis, apparently - did so first.
"I actually have the video here on my tablet," the security guard muttered. "If anyone wants to watch it."
The officer, joined now by Morales, frowned, then nodded upward in agreement.
In the silent minute that followed, Mackenzie felt heat caressing her back. Hyper-aware of his presence, Glenn physically could not be ignored. He wasn't romantically interested in her as she was far too young; that was alright. She understood. She'd heard him joke to others in the office that he'd never be able to date anyone younger than forty due to their generational differences, but it hadn't stopped her wistful daydreams.
But standing between him and a police officer, after he'd literally floored a man for trying to touch her, she let her mind wander a little.
"Alright, sir. I'll take this video for the magistrate. Proof enough you were acting in y'all's best interest. I can't promise this guy won't try to press charges in the future; y'all are lucky the camera's so clear."
"Lucky he didn't get back up," Glenn stated. "I'm leavin' now. On my lunch break."
Mackenzie watched Glenn walk toward his car, unable to hide the guilty wish in her eyes. And then he caught her: he turned, possibly to say goodbye, possibly to ensure no cops were following him, and he saw the burning admiration on her face.
He smirked.
"I'll give ya a ride. You're too shook up to be drivin'." It was a lie and they both knew it.
Magnetically drawn to him, she abandoned her car. He opened the passenger door and offered his hand to help her into his white, 1980s Dodge long-bed. He smirked wider when she refused his hand and hoisted herself up like a lithe gymnast.
The door shut and she found herself alone in his truck. It felt surreal. Occasionally, on days when little work was to be done, Mackenzie daydreamed about Sunday drives with him in this very truck. She had imagined how the sun would warm his already warm, brown features. How the wind would play with the gray in his beard.
A knot formed in her stomach. He reached for the door handle and hauled himself up into the cab. She was alone with him in his truck.
"Thank you." She had to say it.
Not too long ago, she'd asked for his assistance on a task, and once he'd finished, she'd responded not with thanks, but with sarcasm - anything to hide her infatuation. He'd retaliated by calling her a "smartass." It was something she cherished to this day. But this type of gratitude was genuine and necessary. He'd risked his safety and then his liberty for her.
"Nah, you ain't gotta -"
"No, I do. I'm extremely grateful. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't been there."
"Well, I was. So, no need to feel bad about it." He grunted as he turned the key and the old truck roared like a beast waking. A flash of red against the black interior made Mackenzie's brows furrow.
"Your hand?" She reached forward, then felt the impropriety stun her. She withdrew, glancing up at him to judge his reaction.
Glenn stared at her, his brown eyes pinning her like a butterfly. He seared her face into his mind like a brand. He had Mackenzie, alone, in his truck, her hair wild from his rough treatment, looking up at him as though he'd hung the moon. It was how she always looked at him.
Glenn wasn't an idiot. He was nearly fifty, though most women would place him around his early 40s. He'd aged well, often attributing it to his growing up a farm kid in Texas. His agility and quiet masculinity had attracted many women throughout the years, and so when his subordinate sat in her desk chair and tilted her chin up at him with those doe eyes, he knew what was running through her head.
He also knew she'd never push it; Mackenzie respected him, and he knew she'd rather eat glass than make him uncomfortable.
It wasn't that he didn't like to look at her, it wasn't that he disliked her personality - in fact, when Glenn thought of her, he had to fight a smile each time. He appreciated her wit, her sarcastic confidence, and the kindness she exhibited every day. She was kind even to people who actively tried to get her fired, which he actually found frustrating. He often encouraged her to stand up for herself. Including to other supervisors; one time advising her to tell another supervisor to "Fuck off." Which, of course, she didn't do. Glenn had always considered it a professional respect between them; then last week happened.
"I have a bandaid in my bag," she whispered. "Do you want it?"
Glenn shook his head, his eyes still pinned to hers. Was she playing Eye-Contact Chicken? Whoever looks away first loses! Blue and red lights swirled across her face. He didn't like that.
"Glenn," she argued sarcastically. "It's going to get in the fabric of your brand new, super fancy truck."
"Awh'right," he chuckled. He let the truck idle, giving her his injured right hand.
She caught it between both of her hands, and he jerked his head straight, staring through the dirty windshield. I gotta clean that, he thought. Gotta clean out the barn. Cat needs food. He forced his thoughts away from the feel of her skin on his. Felt so right holding her hand, though. He swallowed.
Mackenzie wrapped the large knuckle bandage around his bleeding skin as best she could, then let him go. This time, his hand did not fall as it had earlier; it settled on the bench seat between them.
Glenn cleared his throat and asked, "You ever been to the other side of the pond at work? Great fishin' spot."
Mackenzie shook her head, and even though he was staring straight ahead, and she knew he could see her, she answered quietly, "I've walked by sometimes on lunch. Never been fishing there."
Suddenly, his hand left the bench seat and pulled the gear shift into Drive.
"It's a nice truck," Mackenzie frowned. "But I thought you'd be a manual kind of guy. This is disappointing."
Glenn snorted, feeling more at ease by her ribbing. "Last manual I had was a Jeep. Hated that thing."
"Did it throw itself into Neutral all the time? Especially on bumpy roads or the highway?"
Glenn smiled. "It sure did." He pulled onto the road, happy to leave the flashing blue lights behind.
"What time is it? I'm sorry I took up all of your lunch break," she fretted.
"Naw, don't worry about that," he laughed. "Who's gonna mark you late? Me?"
Mackenzie grinned and looked out the passenger window; she tried to tell herself that the silence in which they sat wasn't charged, but she couldn't help but squirm in the cloth seat.
"He didn't getcha, right?" Glenn confirmed, his voice deep. "I was right there, but I jus' wanna make sure."
Mackenzie fought the overwhelming desire to touch him again. "No. He didn't. Thank you, again."
"Stop sayin' that, dammit," he chuckled awkwardly. "Anyone woulda done it."
"Not as effectively," Mackenzie stated. She clenched her jaw. Why the hell did I say that. That was so obvious.
The hedges walling the parking lot of their workplace blurred by, and the truck stilted as it pulled into the pot-holed lot.
"I told ya before I've been in some scrapes. You remember that time I did your eval-"
"Yeah, the employee evaluation which literally gets trashed the second you submit it to management? The one that has predetermined scores because management actually doesn't give a fuck about your opinion or my work?"
He laughed and smacked the steering wheel. "Yes, ma'am, that one. You 'member me tellin' ya 'bout how I got mugged and the guy had a knife."
"I remember you were acting super jumpy when your back was to the door, yeah."
"Exactly. I ain't even told you everything I've been through, but you know enough to know that fuckin' pussy had nothin' on me."
He only ever swore with her. The first time he'd ever sworn in front of her was the day she'd complained about a higher-up being sexist toward her on a day that Glenn was absent. As her supervisor, he took her formal complaint when he returned. The candid comments he made then about that higher-up would've cost him his job.
Mackenzie remembered it with a shiver. "The next time - if there is a next time -" he had stabbed the air between them with his pencil, "you come get me. I will go with you, and it will be the last time you go in there. Son of a bitch doesn't even realize.... of all people to fuckin' pick on here and he picks on you..."
She smiled companionably at him. "I remember you threatening a CEO," she laughed quietly.
He chuckled with her, shutting off the engine in a parking space rather far from the door. He'd pulled into a spot near the back of the lot which happened to be close to the fishing pond he frequented. A hedge rose up impenetrably in front of them. Glenn propped his elbow on the window sill and faced the woman in his truck.
"Yeh, well, I meant it," he drawled. "The things that man's said about every vaguely-pretty girl there has curled my toes before." Glenn tilted his head, coming to the point, "I don't ever want you in no room with him alone, you hear me? I don't care where I am. You come get me first."
Blushing furiously now, Mackenzie nodded, then felt the need to play down his seriousness with a joke: "But I can be alone with you?"
He didn't immediately answer. His eyes, full of such laughter and depth, held hers. The air in the cab pressed in on them, and she considered pointing out that they really were late back from lunch. The lot was full of empty vehicles - everyone was inside already.
"Naw, you prob'ly shouldn't be."
"You're making me nervous," she blurted. Her heart was throbbing, and she felt an electric current from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. Glenn was a warm blanket and a taser at the same time.
He laughed one short, incredulous laugh. "I'm makin' you nervous? You want me to leave?"
She shook her head immediately. "No."
"Alright, then." He looked around at the deserted lot out the back window. "Why don't you scoot closer, I got somethin' I meant to show you."
She slid across the bench seat, happily obeying, and when her skin was close enough to feel his body heat, he hummed in his chest. A calloused hand slid against her jaw, and he tilted her face upward.
"This ain't right, y'know." His smirk was illegal, she was certain of it. "I could get'n so much trouble for this," his slow, careless drawl told her he didn't give much of a shit.
But the way he said that - the way he insinuated he'd take the fall for them both - it cinched the knot in Mackenzie's stomach so tight she couldn't breathe. Her eyes fell to his whiskered lips.
"I thought you had something to show me."
"Dammit, Mackenzie," he uttered, huffing a dramatic sigh. "I lied, how 'bout that."
He slowly pulled her onto his lap, and she considered being embarrassed about how fast her breaths were coming, but his chest was heaving, too. Moreover, there was something underneath her thigh that was giving him away far more than their breathing.
She ran her hands over his clothes - he happened to be wearing her favorite red, plaid flannel which definitely wasn't dress code - "You say that a lot. 'Dammit, Mackenzie. 'You're a smartass, Mackenzie.' 'Shut up, Mackenzie.'" She ground against him, pulling a groan from his throat. He looked at her wickedly. "You aren't really a good supervisor."
He grabbed her ass. "You walk around that fuckin' building acting like you have no idea what you're doin'." Glenn's eyes roamed her, explaining exactly what he meant.
She played dumb anyway, looking as naive and hurt as she could manage. "No idea what I'm doing? But you said on my evaluation that I excel at-"
"Shut the fuck up," he chuckled, then snaked his hand through her hair, making a fist with it, and when she whimpered, he brought her lips to his. His breath tasted of pepper and jerky, which seemed so wholly him that it made her giddy. How many daydreams had consisted of the last five seconds?
Her shaking hands went to his belt buckle, a big rectangle plate with longhorns and the year 2003 engraved on it. She'd stared at that thing long enough to have memorized it. Completing a five-year-long fantasy, she unfastened it. As she did so, her hands grazed him, and he groaned, almost pained, and he tilted his head back against the headrest.
"I'll fuck up any random bastard in a parkin' lot if it means you -" he muttered as she freed him. He choked, "Damn. Any bastard, jus' point at 'em." His rough hands kneaded her hair. And when she took him in, he hitched a breath, jerking upward, "Hawh, damn it, girl." She heard one of his boots lose it's traction, slipping and hitting the sidewall of the truck. He never released his grip in her hair, feeling as though it was the only thing keeping his soul in that truck.
Euphoria hit him quickly, and when she looked up at him at the end, a cavalcade of memories smacked him in the face.
Her, looking up at him just like that from her desk as he stood, advising her on a task. Her eyes full of admiration but her words full of ass-covering, playful derision. Countless times over half a decade. Why the fuck had he waited this long?
Well, last week hadn't happened yet, he allowed. Glenn had seen what he thought was desire in Mackenzie's eyes. The same desire he'd seen in a number of women's eyes over the long years; but he'd tried to convince himself he was projecting onto his younger coworker. Maybe now that he had creases around his eyes, he'd finally stopped being an object of attraction. Maybe he had been seeing his own desire for her reflected back at him.
Then last week happened.
