Page 90 of Make Me Want it Too

Livvy goes up to take her driving shot next.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” I say to Bex, “everything has been beautiful and seems to be going smoothly. From the outside, at least. Oh, that reminds me. I’ve been meaning to thank you for having the daily menus in the rooms. It was so thoughtful and has helped me so much not to be stressed about the food situation this week.”

“Menus in the rooms?” Bex wrinkles her forehead.

“Yeah. They appear like magic every day, I don’t even know when they’re doing it.”

“Because of your diabetes, oh my god! I should have thought of that, I’m such a shitty friend. I’m sorry. The move and the wedding have sort of taken over my life the last few weeks and I haven’t been there for you. But I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

“Then who did?”

Bex shrugs. “Maybe the wedding coordinator arranged it. Or maybe it’s something the cook staff just does for these kinds of events. I don’t know. I’m not used to all this fancy shit.”

Noah finishes his turn and then Wood yells, “Mace! It’s you.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I whisper to Wood as he hands me a club. Or driver. Or whatever I’m supposed to call it.

He smiles and it’s like all the sunlight reflects off him. “Here.” He puts his hands on my hips and lines me up by the tee. He says more words about my hips and the angle and which arm I’m supposed to bend, but I can’t keep it all straight.

His chest is at my back and he closes his hands around mine, showing me where to grip the club and then how to follow through with my swing. I’m concentrating more on the way he smells and how much I like his touch.

I swing and miss the ball the first time. Wood tells me not to worry about it and try again. I hit the ball on the second try. It’s abysmal. Wood pumps his fist and high fives me while giving me an “atta girl” and telling me how amazing I did.

Bex is still drinking in the cart, sitting shotgun and blasting music when we’re done with the hole. Livvy and Noah jump onto the backseat. Wood sits in the driver’s seat, and I yelp as he grabs me by the waist and plops me onto his lap so we can drive down to the green.

I stay in the shade of the cart with Bex as everyone else exits the cart to keep playing. I can’t help but watch Wood pick his club and kneel next to his ball, lining it up. He’s just so…masculine, and athletic, and effortless about everything.

Bex is grinning at me.

“What?”

“You’re in love.”

My immediate instinct is to say no, I’m not, but then I remember. “Aren’t I supposed to be? We’re dating.” My voice almost betrays how fast my heart is beating, because I haven’t been faking anything.

“I’ve just never seen you act like this. It looks good on you. So things are going well between you two?” Bex raises her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, it’s good. Really, really good.” I adjust in the seat. “My bum is kind of sore, though.”

Bex nods. “Oh god, my ass is so sore from yesterday, too. Why do bike seats have to be so small and pokey and uncomfortable? It’s like sitting on a popsicle stick.”

I lower my voice. “It’s not sore from riding the bike.”

Bex’s eyes get wide, her straw falling out of her mouth. And then, loud enough for everyone to hear, she yells, “Macy. In your ass!”

Wood chokes on the sip of water he just took from his water bottle, spitting it onto the grass as Noah claps him on the back. Everyone is looking in our direction.

Bex doesn’t seem to notice. “Ma’am. I am gagged!”

“Apparently, not enough,” I say through my teeth, trying not to laugh.

She shrugs. “It’s just us five. I knew he was amazing in the sack, but Jesus Christ I did not see that one coming.”

“How do you know he’s amazing in bed?”

“Oh”—she grabs my leg—“not from personal experience. Bethany—she used to work at the bar with me—went out with him a few times last year and she wouldn’t shut up about it for, like three months.”

“Right.” And now, for no reason whatsoever, I’m trying to recall what Bethany looked like. I think she was tall with long, straight dark brown hair. Pretty. Bubbly.

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