Page 138 of Protecting What's Mine

“Thank you foreverything,” Mrs. McDowell whispered wrapping her in a hug.

Mack didn’t know what to say, didn’t know if she could say anything. So she just nodded and let herself be hugged.

“You did good, doc,” Mr. McDowell said, his voice tight with emotion. “Real good.”

“Thanks,” she managed. She sounded like she’d just swallowed a dozen razor blades. Her eyes burned, and she went back into non-blinking mode.

The McDowells picked up their champagne and Dalton’s juice box and stepped aside.

And then there were two more people on the porch. Mack briefly wondered what the weight capacity was, then decided it didn’t matter when she realized that Tyrone Mahoney was dressed in a little flight suit and carrying a mini medical bag. His handmade nametag said Dr. Mack. The boy had dressed up as her for Halloween.

“Oh, shit,” she whispered. She blinked, and a hot tear spilled out of the corner of her eye.

Linc squeezed her shoulder and cleared his own throat. “Just hang in there.”

Tyrone and his mom hugged her hard.

“Pop-Pop is still in the hospital, but he says to tell you thanks,” Tyrone told her with a big, beaming grin. “And I’m going to be a doctor just like you someday.”

Words failed her. Which was fine because Tyrone’s mom, a lovely young woman still in a business suit that Mack felt was probably not a costume but a just-made-it-home-in-time-from-work-for-trick-or-treat, burst into tears while hugging her.

“Thank you,” she whispered through tears.

“To Dr. Mack,” Aldo said, raising his champagne.

“To Dr. Mack,” the crowd in the yard echoed.

The ladder truck that Mack hadn’t heard pull up celebrated, too, with lights and its horn.

She had never been more uncomfortable in her entire life.

Or happier.

The feeling stuck with her on the way home. On a crisp fall night, in a friendly small town, Linc, her Superman firefighter boyfriend, carried the yawning Griffin on his shoulders. She pulled Kinley and Sunshine in the wagon and listened to Samantha talk about pre-med courses. Her belly was warm from the champagne, and the twinkle in Linc’s eye told her he hadn’t forgotten about his quest to discover what Wonder Woman wore under her skirt tonight.

Maybe, just maybe, she could get used to this.

45

“Son of a bitch,” Linc grumbled at his reflection in the mirror. Being a fire chief didn’t put him in a tie often, which was why he periodically had to Google how to tie a fucking tie.

“Need some help?”

Mackenzie appeared in the mirror behind him, a vision in floor-length soft gray that dipped subtly between her breasts.

“Wow.” Tie forgotten, he turned around to get a better look. “Wow.”

Her red lips stretched into a wide smile, eyes crinkling. She’d done something with her makeup, making her eyes look darker, bigger. Her lips delectably fuller.

“I got this when the girls forced me into that shopping trip. Best thing about this outfit?” she said.

“If you tell me it’s what you’re wearing underneath, I might lose consciousness while walking the bride down the aisle.”

Teasingly, she lifted the hem of her dress. “You can barely see the boot.”

“You’re beautiful, you know that, Dreamy?”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Hotshot,” she said, fingers slipping up to his tie.