“I did so well with you,” I reply, wiping an imaginary tear from my eye.

“You really did,” Jen says. “He’s all about communication.”

“Well, that was a douche move,” Owen insists. “You deserve words, not just a business card shoved in your face.”

“You’re right.” I nod, getting pissed all over again.

“So go get your words,” Mia says. “His office address is on that card.”

“I will.” I snatch the card off the bar and throw the abused towel back into the sink. “Grace will be here in ten minutes. Cover for me in the meantime.”

And with that, I grab my purse and keys and march out to my car, zooming the short mile to Mac’s office.

He’s in the heart of downtown Portland, above a yoga studio.

I could use some yoga right about now.

I stomp up the stairs and open the door, expecting to see a receptionist, but instead, there’s Mac, standing at the window, his hands shoved in his pockets, watching the city below.

“What a lovely surprise,” he murmurs, and turns to face me. He’s no longer smiling, but he’s perfectly calm.

“Where’s your receptionist?” I ask inanely.

“Gone for the day.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You can yell at me in peace.”

“Look,” I begin, and toss my bag in a chair. I pace the small room. “You can’t just march into my bar with a smile, humiliating me, and then say you want to see me. I’m not a call girl.”

“Be careful,” he warns. His voice is still calm, but his green eyes have gone bright, with lust or irritation I’m not sure.

“What did you think I would do?” I demand, and turn to face him squarely. “Did you think I’d throw myself in your arms in relief and beg you to carry me off to bed?”

“No, I expected you to do your job, which you did,” he says. “I was hoping, after you’d finished your job, that you’d give me some of your time.”

“After I find out that Mac isn’t even your name?”

“I’ve gone by Mac since high school,” he replies. “It is my name.”

“Right.” I roll my eyes and turn away, and then turn back to him, pissed off all over again. “Also, you told me that you don’t even live in Portland.”

“No, you assumed that.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything to make me think anything different.” I stomp away, but suddenly I’m spun around and held against Mac’s very hard chest.

“Listen to me,” he says, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “I didn’t lie to you, Katrina. You didn’t ask me my full name. You didn’t ask me jackshit during the whole week we were together.”

“Because it wasn’t serious,” I insist, and hate myself a little when I realize he’s right. I didn’t ask him anything. If I had, I might have had an inkling when Riley told me a group was coming in today.

“I asked you questions,” he replies, and drags his knuckle down my cheek. “Even if we weren’t going to see each other again, I wanted to know about you, Kat. And you told me. If you’d just asked me a few of the most basic questions, I would have told you, and we could have avoided this.”

“You sought me out on purpose,” I reply without acknowledging what he said about me asking him questions.

“Fuck yes, I did,” he replies, his grip on me tightening. “And I’d do it again.”

“You could have just called.”

“You wouldn’t have taken the call,” he guesses correctly.

“I don’t know why you did this,” I whisper, and pull out of his grasp. “We’re strangers.”

His green eyes darken with hurt, making my own heart ache. Why am I doing this? Wasn’t I just complaining to Owen that he hadn’t called? I’m just being a brat, and that’s not me.

But I felt embarrassed when he showed up at the bar. I didn’t enjoy it.

“Okay, we’re not strangers,” I murmur, and turn away, walking to the window he was at when I walked in. He has a great view of the river. “I was embarrassed.”

“I’m sorry for that,” he says, not walking to me. He’s giving me room, and that’s exactly what I need.

How does he know what I need?

“Have you thought of me at all?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply truthfully. “I’ve thought of you. I won’t lie about that.” I turn back to him. His hands are in his pockets again.

“You’re all I’ve thought about, Kat,” he replies. “So I’m going to tell you what I told you at the bar. I want to see you.”

I tilt my head to the side. “Do you always get what you want?”

“Usually.”

I sigh and shake my head. “I have to get back to work.”

I don’t know what I want right now. I do want him, but a part of me is still irritated with him too. And I do have to get back to work.

He catches my elbow as I walk past him and stops me. “I won’t stop asking.”

“You didn’t ask,” I reply, and cock one eyebrow, looking him in the eye. “You told. And that may work in the bedroom, but it doesn’t work in real life with me, Mac.”

I pull my arm out of his grasp and walk away. As I get to the door, he says, “I’ll remember.”