Page 89 of Make Me Want it Too

“Good. I slept great.”

“Are you sore?” He grimaces.

“No,” I say in a light tone, smiling.

I am.

Every time I shift I can feel where he was last night. But in a good way. I like the reminder. The memory of it. I like that he’s been where no one else has. Heat blooms in my cheeks as I think about it.

“Coffee?” He offers me his mug.

“Sure.” I take it, our fingertips brushing in the exchange, and take a sip. It warms my throat, the perfect temperature. It also has the perfect amount of sweetness and a hint of hazelnut flavor. I’m pretty sure Wood usually drinks his coffee black.

He watches me as I drink and normally that would make me feel self-conscious, but he does it with an easy smile on his face and his hand on my ankle over the covers like we’ve sipped coffee every morning together for years.

I hand him back his mug, but he says, “Keep it. I’ll get myself more. Should I get us breakfast, too, while you’re getting dressed?”

I nod. “Extra bacon?”

His smile grows and he squeezes my foot. “You got it.”

He stands to leave and something in my chest lurches forward. Like I don’t want him to go.

It was supposed to be overcast today, but there’s hardly a cloud in the sky. The sun’s a white-hot spotlight in the sea of bright blue, and we’re in the middle of a golf course. No trees. Only unnaturally green grass on gently rolling hills.

Wood insisted on slathering me with sunscreen before we left.

Everyone apparently got a memo to dress all cute. Livvy’s in a yellow sundress, the sunshine to Noah’s all-black fit. Margot is up ahead with Jake and Spencer wearing a white tennis skirt and bubblegum pink polo shirt. They’re all wearing Polos. Like a preppy family of clones. They’re in the first golf cart with Zayne and Dane. Moving faster through the holes. I think they’re actually using score cards and stuff.

The rest of us non-country club-type people are in the slacker golf cart bringing up the back. Well, all of us except Wood. He looks like he fits in perfectly with his salmon-colored shorts and casually buttoned white linen shirt.

He takes a swing and sends the golf ball sailing into the sky, his calves flexing and his tanned arms bulging. He watches the ball to see where it lands, the breeze in his hair, sunglasses on, the angle of his jaw and the softness of his lips?—

I forgot where I was going with this.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting with Bex in the golf cart, sweating, in the same denim shorts I wore yesterday while she drinks spiked strawberry lemonades.

“Ugh.” Bex lifts her sunglasses and sets them on her head. “We were supposed to have an almond cake with vanilla buttercream but Jake’s aunt complained that her and Jake’s cousin have nut allergies. So, he just changed it to a coconut cake, without even consulting me.”

“You don’t even like coconut.”

“Right? We could have just ordered a small cake for them or some cupcakes, but now it’s too late. The cake’s already made, and he tells me about it last night.”

“Bex!” Noah yells from the teeing ground. “You’re up.”

“Play through!” Bex yells back, then takes a sip of her lemonade. She turns to me. “I mean, there aren’t even actual nuts in the cake.”

“Almond extract.”

“And is coconut not also a nut?”

“It’s technically a fruit.”

“Whatever. Jake’s so sweet and he knows I’ve been stressed and I know he just wanted to take this off my plate. He’s trying to make everyone happy, but it’s frustrating, you know? This is my wedding, I’m probably only going to have, like, two of these at the most.”

“Bex!” I elbow her.

She grins, biting her straw, and laughs so hard she almost falls out of the cart.

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