Published by Silver Publishing

Publisher of Erotic Romance

Silver Sparkle

Short Story

Wishful

Thinking

Pender Mackie

A

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Cover Artist: Reese Dante

Editor: Rie Langdon

Wishful Thinking © 2011 Pender Mackie

ISBN # 9781920502386

Attention Readers: This book uses US English.

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EDICATION

To those who provide support and encouragement. Thank

you.

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

1

W

ISHFUL

T

HINKING

I looked up automatically when a figure walked past

the front window of the coffee shop. The person kept

going—head down, huddled under an umbrella—thank

God.

I didn't want any more customers this near to

closing time. My current customers looked as if they were

finally getting ready to leave.

They were a young couple that had probably just

started dating. They'd spent their entire time in the shop

sitting quietly, holding hands, and staring dreamily into

each other's eyes. They were so wrapped up in each other, I

could have tap-danced on the counter and they wouldn't

have noticed.

Not that I'd be likely to dance on the counter. I'm

too introverted to draw that kind of attention to myself.

I'd be relieved when they left and not just because it

was almost time to close. That level of mutual adoration is

hard to take when you're single. Especially when you're

pretty sure you're going to remain single, at least for the

foreseeable future.

I pretended not to watch as the girl reached up and

gently touched her boyfriend's face. He turned his head and

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kissed her palm.

I envied them. I wanted that kind of intimacy with

someone special.

I hadn't actually ever been on a date. The closest I'd

been to dating was sneaking into the dugout at the

neighborhood baseball diamond with Jaden Agostini a few

times, back when we were both fifteen. I didn't think a

couple of fumbling kisses and a quick mutual grope session

met the official definition of a date. Even if it did, that had

been over four years ago.

Four years without a date is a pretty sad state of

affairs for anyone, but I'm kind of shy until I get to know

someone. If I didn't feel so awkward around new people, it

would be easier to meet a guy, talk to him, get to know

him, maybe work up the nerve to ask him out.

I had a particular person in mind, but that was

wishful thinking. It would never happen. Even if I had the

confidence to talk to him, to dazzle him with my

knowledge of obscure sci-fi trivia or my unusual sense of

humor, he was far too friendly and outgoing to be

interested in someone quiet like me.

The shop's door opened. A current of cold, wet air

and a few aggressive raindrops escorted a last-minute

customer across the threshold. The heavy rain had kept

most people home tonight. I hadn't had any customers,

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3

other than the lovebirds and now this guy dripping his way

across the floor.

Damn. Now that he was here, even if the couple

left, I wouldn't be able to close up a few minutes early. I'd

be stuck here right up to the last minute. That would suck

because I'd miss the ten o'clock bus and have to wait a half

hour for the next one.

I didn't normally try to cut out early, but I had a

paper due before the weekend and I was scheduled to work

almost every night this week. I'm not supposed to be doing

homework when I'm working, even if the place is

completely devoid of customers, but if I'd ignored the rules

and brought my computer, I could have at least proofed the

completed part of my paper. I'd left my laptop at the dorm

though, so instead of being productive, I'd spent almost my

entire shift hoping for diehard coffee addicts to keep me

busy, and daydreaming about my fantasy boyfriend.

Of course, now, when it was least convenient, I

finally had the customers I'd wished for.

I leaned on the counter and watched resignedly as

my latest patron took his time getting settled at the table in

the corner—the big one with the L-shaped bench and all the

cushions. Even though he was short and slim and wearing a

hooded raincoat, which hid his face, I knew it was a 'he'

and not a 'her' by the clothes and the build. He had a

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4

backpack too, so it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure

out he was a student.

Double damn. The coffee shop was close to the

university. I'd served lots of students. They always ordered

something inexpensive and then sat for hours pretending to

study or reading the out-of-date magazines. Now I'd never

catch the ten o'clock bus.

He took off the backpack and casually slung it onto

a chair on the far side of the table, across from the bench.

He peeled himself out of his sopping-wet jacket and hung it

over the back of the chair. Then he straightened and shook

his hair out as if he were a wet dog.

As I stared at my customer my heart stopped, then

started up again. It raced along as if I'd just guzzled a triple

espresso.

I knew him. Well, technically I didn't know him, but

I knew who he was. I'd seen him around. Seen him on the

university's campus, hanging out, talking and laughing with

his friends in the cafeteria or walking to class.

His name was Rory and he was hot in a cute, boyish

way: dimples, lots of curly blond hair, and a round little

butt. I didn't know him, but oh my God, I wanted to. He

was my fantasy boyfriend.

I thought about Rory first thing in the morning, even

before I opened my eyes, and last thing at night when I

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5

closed them. I'd had dreams about him, the kind where you

wake up breathless—and sticky.

And now I was going to be face to face with my

fantasy. I was going to have to make eye contact, even talk

to him. It was bad enough talking to someone new,

especially someone I was attracted to, but I'd have to talk

the guy I'd had wet dreams about. I wasn't sure I could do

it, but I was the only one working.

He looked around as if he'd never been inside the

coffee shop before and maybe he hadn't. He'd never been

here when I was working. I was sure of that.

My eyes darted towards the storeroom and office.

For a couple of seconds I actually contemplated hiding out.

Maybe if he couldn't get served, he'd leave.

It was already too late. Before I could decide if I

really was that much of a wimp, he headed across the room,

and I stood, rooted to the floor. I wiped my hands on my

apron. Stay calm and professional and he'll never know

how you feel about him.

I watched Rory as he approached and when he saw I

was looking at him, he gave me a big, friendly smile. My

insides twisted a little. I'd never been on the receiving end

of his smile before. It felt like the sun breaking through the

clouds.

"Hi. Can I get something to drink, please?"

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6

I resisted the urge to lean over the counter and run

my fingers through his damp curls, struggling to answer

coherently instead. After staring at him blankly for what

seemed like ages, I managed a response.

"What would you like?"

I could feel my face heat up, and I shifted my

weight awkwardly. That was one of my standard customer

service lines, so why did it feel like I was coming on to

him? Probably because I wanted to, only I hadn't worked

up the courage to even attempt to flirt. If I didn't feel so

awkward every time I saw him, I could talk to Rory, say hi

when I saw him on campus, get to know him, find out if he

was gay, if he was single. Maybe even ask him out. But

every time I saw him my pulse raced and my breath got

short. I'd remember the dreams and freeze. I was always

terrified I was about to get an erection. For once, I was

grateful for the stupid apron.

Rory smiled again. "I don't drink much coffee. Can I

have a minute to look over the choices, please…" he

paused and his eyes travelled slowly over my chest,

pausing at my name tag, before moving up to my face,

"Derrick?"

I swallowed, and wished I were wearing something

other than the cheap black pants and black short-sleeved

shirt the coffee shop provided. With my height and mop of

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7

dark hair, I thought I looked like a crow.

"Sure. We have milk and tea, too." I winced. Nice

one, Derrick. Brilliant even. The guy you've been lusting

after for months is actually talking to you and you sound

like an airline hostess.

He gave me another gut-churning smile and stepped

back to look at the menu board hanging above the counter.

I snuck a peek at him while he was reading it.

He was wearing a t-shirt under an unbuttoned, plaid

flannel shirt, jeans, and skate shoes. Did he skateboard? He

had the look nailed, but I'd never seen him with a

skateboard. My gaze slipped lower and I stopped

wondering whether or not he could do an ollie or grind.

The rain jacket he'd been wearing was hip-length

and the denim on the front of his thighs was wet and darker

than the denim at his crotch. My eyes traveled up, over his

wet thighs to his groin.

"Okay, I'm ready."

I jumped. Shit. Had he caught me staring at his

crotch? I took a deep breath and looked at him. He was

watching me, looking amused.

"Can I have a steamed milk, please?"

I nodded and moved back into my professional

barista mode. "Do you want any flavor added?"

"Sure." He held my gaze and smiled cheekily.

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8

"Nothing too exotic. I'm kind of partial to vanilla."

I blushed. It almost felt like he was flirting. "What

size would you like?"

He paused before stepping forward to the counter

and looked up at me, the closeness accentuating our height

difference. His grin widened and both dimples showed. "I

like most things big so I'll go with a large please, Derrick."

"Okay." I was pretty sure we weren't talking about

his drink order anymore, but I pretended we were. "I'll

bring it out to you when it's ready." I needed him to go and

sit down so I could pull myself together. In my daydreams I

hadn't imagined him coming on this strong. It was throwing

me off.

"Great. Thanks."

He stood patiently as I stared at him, frozen like a

deer in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"How much do I owe you?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry." I had to look at the cheat sheet

for the prices. I should know, but I was so flustered I

couldn't remember.

I rang up his drink, wishing I could teleport to

somewhere, anywhere, else right now. I was never this

rattled with other customers. Even if I didn't have a thing

for him, I would still have felt big and awkward compared

to him, but he was so hot he made it hard to think, and I

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9

didn't know how to act around him.

He dug in his wallet and passed me some money,

and as I gave him his change, my fingers brushed his palm.

I snatched them back before I did something stupid, like

stroke his skin.

Rory's brows dipped, and he looked concerned.

"Hey. You okay?"

I'd known his eyes were green but I'd never been

able to see the orange flecks around his pupils before. I'd

never been this close to him until now. He had a tiny

freckle just at the edge of his lower lip. I wanted to touch it

with my fingers, my lips, my tongue. It felt like I'd

forgotten to breathe. I sucked air into my lungs.

"Derrick?"

"I'm okay. It's okay," I muttered.

He gave me a doubtful look but went back to his

table. I busied myself getting out the syrup and the milk.

Shit. He hadn't specified what kind of milk he wanted.

I should have asked. It was part of my job. I always

asked, but I'd been dealing with the whole pulse-racing,

shortness-of-breath, imminent-erection thing.

I could pick the most popular choice, but what if he

didn't like it? Maybe he wanted soy or rice milk. He might

even be allergic to ordinary milk.

I forced myself to walk over to his table. The way

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10

I'd been acting since he'd got here, he probably already

thought I was an idiot. I had nothing to lose and at least this

way I could make his drink the way he wanted.

He looked up at my approach and turned towards

me as I came closer. He smiled pleasantly.

"Hey. What's up?"

"I didn't ask what kind of milk you wanted." I kept

my gaze fixed on a spot just past his shoulder. If I looked

right at him, I'd be even more awkward and probably turn

bright red.

Just last night I'd dreamt about him. In the dream

he'd been undressing me, kissing my chest, and licking my

nipples. His soft, curly hair had tickled the inside of my

thighs and when I felt his hot, damp breath on the head of

my cock, I'd woken, my dick pulsing and my boxers and

stomach wet.

"It doesn't matter. Regular milk's okay." He paused

and waited till I switched my gaze to his face. "Whatever

you want to give me is fine."

I had no idea how to interpret that. Maybe he was

messing with me, but I didn't think so. He seemed so nice

with his friends. Was he actually interested? I wanted to

think he was, but I didn't know how to respond. And what

if he wasn't? Better not read too much into it. I nodded

firmly. "Right. Regular milk. Okay." I went back to make

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11

his drink, picking up the dirty mugs from the couple's

empty table on the way. I'd been so focused on Rory, I

hadn't even noticed them leaving.

As I steamed his milk, I watched him dig in his

backpack and pull out a couple of textbooks, a notepad,

pens, and a highlighter. He opened one of the texts and

started making notes.

I walked over carefully, willing myself not to spill

sticky, steamed milk down the side of his mug. Rory was

settled in, engrossed in his studying, making notes with one

hand and turning the pages of his text with the other. I got a

glimpse of an anatomical diagram before he flipped a page.

I put the mug down carefully, well away from his

notes and he looked up at me.

"Thank you."

No smile for me this time. I was disappointed. I

missed it already. "You're welcome." I shrugged one

shoulder and turned to go.

"Wait. Um… Derrick," he hesitated and his checks

pinked up. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?"

"If I said anything to offend or embarrass you, I

didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He didn't need to apologize to me. I took worse

ribbing from my friends all the time and besides, any

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embarrassment I felt was all self-inflicted. I tried to

reassure him. "No, it's all right. I wasn't offended.

Embarrassed maybe, but that's okay. I embarrass easily. It's

not your fault."

He raised an eyebrow and I snapped my mouth

closed. He wasn't smiling but he wanted to; the dimple on

one side of his mouth kept appearing and disappearing. He

tilted his head as he looked up at me.

"That's more than I've ever heard you say all at

once."

I stared at him. We didn't know each other. What

was he talking about?

"We've never spoken before."

He spoke quietly. "That's true, but I've seen you on

campus. With your friends. You don't say much, even to

them."

He was right. I'm comfortable around my friends,

but I'm not overly talkative. I'm usually more of an

observer than an active participant.

He held my gaze. His cheeks were still pink and his

fingers played with the pen, but he looked straight at me as

if he was trying to tell me something. "I asked around. I

know you're an engineering student and that your name's

Derrick."

I swallowed. "I, uh, I have to get back to work."

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13

I bolted for the safety of the other side of the

counter, my mind reeling. I must have misunderstood. He

wasn't interested. Guys like Rory didn't go out with guys

like me. They went out with cute, friendly, active members

of the Student Union Association, not tall, skinny guys with

plain, blue eyes, too much hair, and no social skills.

I watched him from under my bangs. Rory shook

his head and sighed then went back to his textbook.

I wiped down the counter and put away the milk,

then I picked up the broom. I was supposed to sweep the

floor before closing for the night, but I didn't want to go

back over to Rory's corner. I started on the other side of the

room, reluctantly working my way closer to his table.

I could feel Rory looking at me, but I kept my head

down and he went back to studying. He frowned at his

notes, absentmindedly tapping his pen against his lips or his

teeth as he worked.

I avoided looking at his mouth and what it was

doing to the pen. It reminded me too much of the dream I'd

had the night before. And the fantasies I had when I was

awake.

I'd imagined him touching me, doing things to me,

but every time, I felt guilty. It didn't stop me, though. I

shouldn't fantasize about him, think about his touch or his

body, but I knew I'd replay his words over again later

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tonight. I'd let myself imagine what might have happened if

I'd said something different.

I kept my back to him and got as close as I dared

without having to ask him to move. I was normally a good

employee. If I missed a spot this one time, I didn't think

anyone would mind too much. I put the broom away and

moved back behind the counter, trying to focus on what I

still needed to do for my paper when I got back to my

room.

* * * *

It was almost time to close up. I just had to clean the

espresso machine and cash out, then I'd be done. I turned

off the 'open' sign. I had a plan. I'd wait till Rory finished

his drink and he left, then I'd grab his cup and start the

dishwasher. That way I wouldn't have to talk to him again

and risk the very real possibility of dying from

embarrassment. The only problem was, Rory didn't seem to

be in a hurry to leave. He was settled in as if he owned the

place and he was making his drink last, even though the

milk had to be cold by now.

I'd never had a customer stay till closing before. I'd

need to ask him to leave. I tried to come up with a polite

way to phrase the request as I wiped down the steam wand

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of the espresso machine. I didn't want him to be annoyed

with me. Not if I wanted to get to know him. Now that we'd

talked, maybe I could start saying hi at school. I'd talked to

him three times tonight and though I'd sounded like an

idiot, my body had behaved. My winter jacket covered my

dick so I'd be fine as long as we talked outdoors, even if I

did get a little excited. If I went up to him and said hi

maybe he'd meet me halfway and we could have an actual

conversation. Who knew what might happen then?

So, how could I ask him to leave without seeming

rude?

What happened next was my fault. I was still

cleaning the espresso machine, head down, my hair in my

eyes. Plus I was busy trying to come up with the right

wording. I didn't see his approach so when he put his mug

on the counter and started to speak, I jumped and let out a

yelp. My shoulder hit the button on the control panel and a

burst of steam hissed out of the wand.

My original yelp turned into a curse. I made a dash

for the sink and stuck my hand under the faucet. Rory ran

around the counter and stood beside me.

"How bad is it?"

"I don't know."

It didn't feel too bad when it was under the water so

I pulled it out to take a look.

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Shit, it hurt. Really hurt. "Ohfuckohfuckohfuck."

Rory shoved my hand back under the water. "Don't,

Derrick. Leave it there."

My fingers hurt a lot less almost immediately and I

groaned with relief.

"Feels better, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Cold water soothes the tissue. It's the best on-site

treatment. Keep your hand under the water for about fifteen

minutes, then we'll take another look." He held my wrist

and turned my hand over, peering at it through the running

water. "I don't think it's too bad. Probably superficial, first-

degree only. Getting scalded hurts like hell, though."

Rory was touching me, talking to me. "How do you

know so much about burns?"

I asked, mostly because I was trying not to focus on

the feel of his fingers circling my wrist. I was breathing fast

and I wasn't sure if it was from the shock of getting burned

or the feel of his body so close to mine. The soft flannel of

his shirt was actually touching my bare arm. I shifted, just

to feel it brush against me.

He gave me a small smile and let go of my wrist.

"I'm a nursing student."

"Oh." I could still feel the imprint of his fingers

where they'd touched my skin. "A nurse, huh?" I pictured

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him calmly dealing with patients, reassuring someone who

was sick or in pain. He was pretty good at it.

"Yeah. Second year."

"Second year?"

"Uh huh."

So he was older than me. There was so much I

didn't know about him. I'd never thought we'd be alone and

talking to each other, but we were. We were actually

having a conversation—if my impression of a parrot

counted as conversation. Maybe I should try for another

whole sentence.

"I'm a first-year."

Rory gave me a look I didn't know how to decipher.

"I know."

There was an awkward silence, the running water

and hum of the fridges the only sounds in the entire coffee

shop. I looked around. I still had to cash out and close up.

"Can I do anything for you?" Rory asked. "You

should be closed now, right?"

He was already doing something for me. He was

giving me first aid. I wouldn't have known to keep my hand

in cold water. I probably would have dried it off after a

couple of seconds and rubbed some butter on the burn. I

thought that's what you're supposed to do.

"Can you lock the door?"

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"Sure."

He walked across the room and locked the door

while I tried not to stare at his butt. I managed to look away

before he turned around. He came back to my side of the

counter.

"What's next?"

"I need to start the dishwasher, and I have to cash

out, but I can just put the cash drawer in the safe. If I call

my boss in the morning, it'll be okay."

He nodded. "Can you wait for a few more minutes?"

"Yeah."

"Okay."

He stood beside me. Close but not touching. He

smelled like rain with maybe a hint of cologne.

"Derrick? This was my fault. I'm really sorry."

I looked at him and shook my head. "It was an

accident." If anything, it was my fault. I should have turned

the machine off before cleaning.

"I startled you and you got hurt. Can I make it up to

you? Maybe take you out to dinner?"

"You want to take me out to dinner? Like a date?"

Shit. Why the hell did I say that? He wasn't asking

me out, but now it sounded like I thought he was. My face

filled with heat.

He looked up at me and chewed on his bottom lip.

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"Are you… would you like that? I mean… to go out on a

date?"

"With you?" I clarified carefully.

"Yeah." His shifted his weight under my scrutiny,

but he didn't break eye contact.

I smiled at him. His own nervousness was reducing

mine.

"Yeah. I'd like that."

He exhaled as if he'd been holding his breath.

"That's great." He smiled back and looked at me from

under his lashes. "You know, I walk past this coffee shop

every night to see if you're working. I always promise

myself I'll come in and talk to you, but I never have until

tonight."

"You check to see when I'm working?" I was so

surprised I almost didn't believe him, but why would he

bother to lie?

He smiled, showing me his dimples. "Our paths

don't cross much at school, but you're so tall and broad-

shouldered and you have great eyes. I look for you

whenever I'm on campus, ever since I saw you during the

first week of classes. My name's Rory, by the way."

"I know," I blurted out, then blushed right on cue.

He grinned. "You're shy, but I've seen you looking

at me. I'm not the only one interested here, am I?"

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My pulse was racing and my legs were kind of

shaky, but this was my chance. I looked at him. At his eyes,

those incredible, sexy, green eyes. I opened my mouth. My

voice was quiet, but I didn't hesitate. "I'm interested."

He gave me another dazzling smile and his body

seemed to relax. "Okay. Good. That's good."

He played with the cuff of his shirt. "I've been

planning to ask you out, but I thought you might be

embarrassed and there's always been lots of other

customers before. Tonight when I saw the place was almost

empty, I thought I'd never have as good an opportunity. I

was going to come in and just go ahead and ask you for a

date, but instead I came on too strong and freaked you out."

"It's okay."

He wasn't finished.

"Then, I made you think I was stalking you and

because of me you got hurt. I thought for sure I'd blown my

chance, but you still said yes." He looked up at me and

smiled.

He was so cute, so sweet. I was on top of the world

right now. Even if my hand was hurting.

I grinned. "You didn't do any of those things. Well

maybe a little, but this was an accident." I waved my wet

hand at him and he grabbed it and pushed it back into the

water.

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21

He grinned. "So when do you want to go for dinner?

You free this weekend?"

"I'm working every day except tomorrow and

Sunday." I desperately wished he wasn't busy on Sunday.

"Oh." He bit his lip and looked disappointed. "I

can't take you to dinner on Sunday."

Shit. I wanted that date. "If that doesn't work,

maybe we could have lunch instead. Or eat together at the

dorms. Which residence are you in?" I knew he wasn't in

mine.

He looked mildly embarrassed. "I'm a local so I'm

still living at home. Kind of lame, huh?"

"You're lucky. It's economical."

"Yeah, I am." He brightened. "Hey, if you're living

on campus, you're probably ready for some real food. Want

to come over for dinner? It's my mom's birthday on

Sunday."

I must have looked as panicked as I felt because he

backed off right away. "Or not. We could go out to a

restaurant another day."

"I think a restaurant's a good idea." I said, relieved.

Then I realized I'd be having dinner with Rory. My

stomach flip-flopped, but I recognized it was from

excitement. It's funny how excitement and anxiety feel the

same, physically. It's only the emotion that's different.

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

22

"Sorry. That was a stupid suggestion." He looked

sheepish. "I didn't think it through. It'd be sort of a first-

date and meet-the-parents all rolled into one. I'm not trying

to freak you out again. I just thought you might be missing

a home-cooked meal, but we need some privacy to get to

know each other. We wouldn't have that at my house.

Everyone would be talking loudly, asking you questions,

and arguing over the last dinner roll. I don't think you're up

for that."

I was an only child, but it sounded like Rory came

from a big family. Just thinking about dinner with his

parents and God-knows-how-many brothers or sisters made

me nervous.

I shook my head. "No."

"Dinner at a restaurant's a better plan. This way I get

to keep you to myself."

We looked at each other. I couldn't help myself. My

gaze dropped down to his mouth.

Rory sounded hopeful. "Can I kiss you, Derrick?"

I swallowed and nodded. "Please."

I stood, self-conscious and awkward. He reached up

and slid his palm along my jaw, gently pulling me down for

a kiss. Our lips touched and he slid his fingers around to the

back of my neck, weaving them into my hair. I groaned and

his tongue darted out, warm against my lips.

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Thinking Pender

Mackie

23

That one, light touch released something in me and I

pushed up against him. All trace of self-consciousness

gone. His mouth opened under my lips and I slid my tongue

inside, flicking it against his teeth, caressing his tongue

with mine.

He tasted sweet. It was probably the vanilla from his

drink, but I think he would have tasted sweet anyway.

I touched his back, feeling the heat of his body

under the loose flannel shirt. I almost touched him with my

other hand, remembering only at the last minute that I

shouldn't. I didn't want to make his clothes wet. I rested my

damp hand on the counter beside him instead. It ached, but

I barely felt it.

He pressed closer, chasing my tongue and gently

exploring my mouth before slowly withdrawing, kissing

my lips, my chin, my neck. He still had one hand buried in

my hair. The other slid slowly up and down my back as I

shuddered and panted. His fingers were warm through the

thin cotton of my shirt. Wherever he touched he left trails

of shivery, sensitized skin.

He looked up at me, flushed and breathless. "Is this

okay?"

"Yeah." My voice sounded rough.

"Can we lose the apron?"

I nodded, blushing. I'd forgotten I was wearing it,

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

24

but now that he'd reminded me, I didn't want the heavy,

thick cotton between us.

He reached around and I felt his hands moving at

my back. The ties of the apron loosened. He slid his hands

up, over my shoulders and I ducked as he pulled the neck

strap over my head. He dropped the apron on the counter

and pushed me back, keeping me at arm's length, as he

looked me up and down.

"Look at you." His eyes were dark, the pupils so

dilated they were just barely ringed with green.

He pulled me in.

I bent my head and kissed him again, licking

between his parted lips and back into his mouth. He

moaned and gripped the back of my shirt in his fist.

I slipped my hand under the flannel shirt, holding

him lightly just above the waistband of his low-slung jeans.

His t-shirt was the only thing between my hand and his

bare skin. I could actually feel him breathing. I eased my

fingers under his shirt. His skin was warm and smooth.

I was hard and he was too. His erection dug into my

thigh. When he slipped his hand down to cup my butt, I

almost lost it. This was so much better than anything I'd

done with Jaden Agostini.

"Rory." I rubbed against him. It felt so good. So

right. "God, Rory."

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

25

He pulled away regretfully. "We should stop. It's

probably time to take a look at your hand."

"Yeah?" I was still panting and kind of dazed. I'd

been very close to making a mess of my work clothes. I

should be embarrassed, but only one part of my body

seemed to be fully functional and it wasn't my brain.

The water was still running. He turned off the faucet

and took hold of my wrist, gently turning my hand over to

check both sides. The skin on two of my fingers and the

edge of my palm were red and angry-looking but, it didn't

feel too bad.

"No blistering," he muttered. "That's good." He

stroked his fingers over the inside of my wrist, careful to

avoid the reddened area of my hand. "Is it still painful?"

I shivered. My whole body was sensitized, tuned in

to his touch. "No."

My hand didn't hurt much now. There was a sort of

a throbbing ache, but it wasn't excruciating, not like before.

I was more focused on the feel of his fingers brushing over

my damp skin.

I didn't want this to end, but sanity was returning.

We were fully visible to anyone who might look in the

shop's window, and anyway, I had to close up.

Now that I knew he was interested in me, I would

talk to him at school. Maybe I could follow up on the

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

26

dinner thing if he didn't bring it up again. At the very least,

I would smile and say hi. Especially if it meant I might get

to go on a date with him, get to kiss him again. And more.

"I need to finish closing up or I'll miss the bus." I'd

already missed the ten o'clock bus. The next one was due in

fifteen minutes.

He sighed and let go of my hand. "Can I have your

number, Derrick?"

I gazed at him longingly. "You can have anything

you like."

His head shot up, and he gave me a startled look,

then grinned.

"Anything?" The dimples were back and his tone

was mischievous.

I'd been watching him for so long, thinking about

him, wishing I was with him. He was so hot, so sweet.

"Anything."

His gaze softened and he touched my face gently.

"I'll look forward to that, but we need to get to know each

other a little more first."

"Okay." I wasn't sure if I was relieved or

disappointed, maybe both, but he must have picked up on

something in my voice.

He gave me an exasperated look. "I want you,

Derrick. You have no idea how much I want to kiss you

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

27

again, strip you naked, and explore every inch of your

body. But as much as I want to make you moan, and

writhe, and shudder, I won't rush this. I want to date you,

not just have sex with you. Okay?"

I was incredibly turned on, busy imagining all the

things he'd just described. I hoped like hell he wasn't going

to make me wait too long. Since he lived at home, privacy

might be an issue. Unless we went to my dorm. I shared a

kitchen and bathroom with three other guys, but we each

had our own tiny bedroom.

"We could do both."

"We will do both." He rubbed his thumb lightly

over my lip. "I'll be your first, won't I?"

I stepped back, my entire body felt hot and I was

sure my face was scarlet. "You could tell?" I was mortified.

He shook his head, smiling. "No. But you're too shy

to sleep around and you're very… enthusiastic."

"Oh." I was still embarrassed. Maybe I shouldn't

have rubbed up against him or maybe my kissing could use

some refinement.

He stepped in, planting a palm on my chest. His

hand felt heavy and cool. "Do you know how sexy that is?"

I shook my head numbly.

"Very sexy. You'll be trusting me with your body."

His palm slid slowly down my shirt, circling my nipple as it

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

28

stiffened and peaked. "I won't let you down. I'll make you

feel so good, Derrick. I promise."

I bit my lip to stifle a moan.

His hand lingered, then moved on, sliding to my

waist and I sighed at the loss of that sweet sensation.

"So we need to go slow. I'm not a player. I don't

want you to think I'm only interested in one thing."

I wouldn't have minded. Not right then, but maybe I

would have later. Yeah, definitely later. "Okay."

He watched my face. "Give me your phone number,

Derrick."

I recited my number, watching as he carefully

entered it into his phone.

I grimaced. "I'd ask for yours but my phone's dead. I

forgot to charge it."

"No problem. We'll do this the old-fashioned way."

He grabbed a store business card from the

cardholder on the counter and scribbled his phone number

on the back, slipping the card into the back pocket of my

pants. He patted the pocket affectionately, giving my butt a

little squeeze. The touch went straight to my groin.

"I'm patient, but not that patient. We've wasted too

much time already, so we should start getting to know each

other right away. So dinner tomorrow night?" He grinned

as I blinked at him in surprise.

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

29

I could work on my paper during the day so I'd be

free for our date. My class schedule was light tomorrow

and I was just about finished anyway. "Yeah. Sure."

It looked like I'd be living out my fantasies sooner

than I'd thought. I wasn't sure what would happen at the

end of the date, especially if he wanted to go slow, but I

was hoping we wouldn't stop at a goodnight kiss.

"Great. Why don't you deal with the dishwasher and

the cash register, then I'll walk you to the bus stop."

He gathered up his stuff and waited for me at the

door. Outside, it was still raining pretty hard so we couldn't

talk much as we walked to the bus stop. There was an

elderly lady already sitting on the bench in the shelter so I

knew the bus hadn't come yet.

Rory gave her a quick glance and then brushed the

wet hair off my face. "Great eyes," he murmured. He

leaned in and went up on his toes as he kissed my cheek.

Then his lips moved to my ear and I shivered as he

whispered softly, "Derrick. Charge your phone."

He pulled back with a grin. "I'll call you about

tomorrow night." He flipped his hood up and I watched him

as he walked down the street.

"Is that your boyfriend?"

I turned to the elderly lady. She didn't seem to be

disapproving, just inquisitive.

Wishful

Thinking Pender

Mackie

30

I sat down next to her and grinned. "I think so.

Yeah."

T

HE

E

ND

A

BOUT THE

A

UTHOR

Pender Mackie lives in Canada though she spent her

childhood years in England.

An imaginative child, Pender wasn't a willing

student and didn't learn to read until her father—deciding
some incentive was needed—promised her a pony as soon
as she could read.

Properly motivated, Pender picked up a book and

discovered the joys of fiction. Though her infatuation with
ponies didn't last, she still loves a good story.

Pender has been writing M/M romance stories for

about three years, but has only just started submitting some
of them for publication. She is busy putting the final
touches on several others.

Facebook:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Pender-Mackie-

Author/164033403655486

Blog:

http://pendermackie.blogspot.com

Email:

[e-mail]

A

LSO BY

P

ENDER

M

ACKIE

:

Available from Silver Publishing:

Scent of Attraction

Right Street, Wrong House

Wishful Thinking

Available from All Romance Ebooks:

Dog Days of Summer

R

EVIEWS FOR

SCENT

OF

ATTRACTION

SAY

:

This is a quick, fun read. I thought it had a good

balance between realism, romance and just a little bit of
intrigue and mystery to keep me reading.

Shawn is very shy, and this is reflected in the way

he tells the story. His much more outgoing friends keep
pushing him to start dating, but Shawn just knows he can't
do that. We see him in a few situations that make this point
really well. I felt sorry for him when he got dragged into
going to the dance, mainly because he was just desperate
enough to try something so out of character.

Graham is a bit of an enigma, definitely a flawed

character. He's interested in Shawn, but can't quite give up
on his current boyfriend. There is absolutely no cheating,
and Graham's loyalty is kind of touching, even if it turns
out to be misplaced.

If you're looking for a nice, quiet story with a lot of

romance and some 'real' people, this one should fit the bill.

—Queer Magazine Online

This was a super cute romance. I really enjoyed it. It

was well written and sucked me in from the beginning.
Shawn is just adorable and I can totally picture his shy face
behind the fragrance counter. I loved Shawn and Graham
together. What I liked about this story is that the main
characters took their time before jumping into bed with
each other. I did believe this HEA. I definitely recommend
this quick read.

I know this is the first story published by Ms

Mackie. I see a bright future for her.

—From the TBR Pile

Scent of Attraction by Pender Mackie is a sweet

romance. Shawn is at a standstill in his life. His best friend
thinks he just needs to get laid, but Shawn knows it is more
than that. He doesn't want just a love life; he wants Mr
Right not Mr Right Now. Graham is a free spirit; he laughs
easily and is perfect for Shawn.

I liked getting to know these men and watching

their sweet romance unfold. I really liked how the
characters leapt off the pages, making me really care about
them. I was sorry to see them go at the end. It made me
want to read more of Ms Mackie's work in the future.

—Two Lips Reviews