Page 71 of Make Me Dream of You

“It’ll be nice to do something different this year,” Macy says.

Spencer hmphs.

I can only assume the man who steps out of the passenger seat in shorts and boat shoes is his brother, Jake. He looks just like Spencer, but a little younger with broader shoulders and a squarer jaw.

“Howdy!” Wood calls out from the open double doors. “Margaritas are mixed up and the hot tub is ready,” he says as Bex and Macy run inside with flushed cheeks.

“Woodall,” Spencer says, opening the trunk.

Wood tips his beer to him. “Hayes.”

“Still have a talent for drinking at noon, I see.”

“I have many talents. Just ask your mom.” Wood gives him a big smile with lots of white teeth.

“Charming.”

“She thinks so.”

“Livvy!” Bex squeezes me around the middle, sandals clacking on the tile. “Happy birthday weekend! Woo! Booze and bathing suits for the next three days, let’s go!”

Macy leans in and whispers, “She already started the booze part. She had three spiked lemonades on the way here.”

With the party underway, I change into my bathing suit in my room. It’s a black one piece that’s backless with a low-cut scoop neck in front. Out the window, Wood and Noah are taking turns jumping off the dock. Macy is sitting on the side with her feet in the water, lathering sunscreen on her pale skin, wearing a giant, floppy hat. Bex is laid out next to her in the sun, all tan skin under her barely-there bikini.

I opt to keep my jean shorts on over my swimsuit and head out to join them.

Spencer and Jake are debating something as I pass them on the patio and stroll down the beach. Wood rushes out of the lake, water droplets coming off his hair and beading on his rippling chest. He looks every bit the all-American swimmer, polo-player, and rowing captain the trophies lining the shelves in the den have touted him to be.

Maybe Bex was right when she said I should consider Wood. But then Noah follows after, dark hair dripping, skin covered in ink, his trunks riding low on his hips, showing that delicious shelf of muscle shaped in a V leading right to his?—

“Beer or margarita, girlfriend?” Wood asks.

“Oh! Margarita, please. But you don’t have to serve me, I can get it.”

“Nah, I was getting out anyway to fire up the grill.”

He makes me a huge lime margarita with a salted rim, and the afternoon slips into evening before I know it.

Many margaritas and hot dogs later, we’re sitting around the bonfire under a clear sky full of stars. There’s a slight chill in the air, but the fire is hot, embers crackling in the night. It smells of woodsmoke and beer. There’s conversation and laughter and Wood telling stories.

The night’s a bit hazy after the fifth margarita.

I remember the fire and laughing and Noah taking my hand and leading me upstairs. I remember peeling off my swimsuit as soon as I got in my room and him putting me to bed. I remember asking him to stay with me. His warm body sliding in next to me. The scent of him. The soft sounds of breathing as we fell asleep.

Waking up on my birthday with a hangover is less than ideal.

Rolling over to Noah lying next to me, shirtless, and realizing I’m not wearing any clothes is…interesting.

His eyes are open, and he’s propped up on an elbow, but he hasn’t noticed I’m awake yet.

I lick my lips, but just before sound comes out, he picks up his phone. I pause. He’s texting someone. Who would he be texting right now?

My stomach drops. I know it’s a girl, even though I have no evidence he’s seeing anyone right now. Not even a mention of a situationship.

I shift to my side, and he immediately drops his phone face down on his chest, hiding his screen.

That confirms it.

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