Page 25 of Make Me Want it Too

He leans in. “Don’t think of it like we’re pretending, then.”

CHAPTER 6

WOOD

She’s so nervous she’s making herself sick. I hate it.

Her hand is trembling slightly on the stair rail as we make our way down the steps and around the gaudy flower arrangement toward the back doors. Multiple sets of white French doors are flung open to a brick-paved patio that spans the width of the house and is at least forty feet deep. It’s lined with built-in planter boxes, all overflowing with white and pink flowers, and dotted with small standing cocktail tables and large white umbrellas.

It's already full of people, drinks in hand, and more staffers in vests carrying around drink and food trays.

It’s fancy as fuck.

Macy stops. I want to hold her hand and make it stop shaking.

“We’ve got this,” I say.

She looks up at me, eyes wide. After a second she gives a small nod and a half-hearted smile. But we do. We’ve got this. I’m going to make sure she has a good week. And I’m going to keep us away from Spencer. Not just for her, but for me, too. I’m not sure I won’t be able to keep from punching him in the dick.

I let her lead us out onto the patio. The evening sun is warm, just starting to lower over the treetops.

We’re stepping out together, and I won’t let it show that my stomach is doing flip flops, too—for an entirely different reason.

I touch Macy’s lower back, letting my hand slide toward her hip.

Her head whips my direction. “What are you doing?”

“We’re together, Macy. I’m going to act like it. Is this not okay?” I lighten my touch.

Her pink cheeks darken. “No, it’s okay. I’m just not used to it, I guess. Being in a relationship doesn’t equal PDA, you know. Spencer never?—”

“Let’s not talk about him.” I grip her hip a little tighter.

I know he never showed affection toward her in public. It always got on my nerves he didn’t treat her like a goddess, like he was the luckiest guy on the planet. She deserves to be worshipped.

“That’s not how I am in a relationship,” I say, pulling her to my side and wrapping my arm around her waist, loving the way she feels next to me.

“Have you ever been in a relationship?” She quirks an eyebrow.

I chuckle low in my chest. Touché. “It’s been a while.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m picky.”

She laughs. A real laugh, one that makes her whole face scrunch up.

Very picky. Specifically, five-foot-four redheads with freckles and deep brown eyes who can’t swear, have the cutest laughs, and are devastatingly uninterested in me.

“So, you’re picky. And now we have to convince everyone you picked me. Great.” Her voice morphs into nervous laughter.

“What?” I’m so confused what she means by this. She’s literally everything.

But a server walks by with a tray of champagne and wine before I can get clarification. Macy grabs one of the chardonnays and starts sipping.

Her glass is empty by the time we make it across the patio to where Bex and Jake are greeting a line of guests.

She sets the empty glass on a tray and trades it for a full one as another server sweeps by, her eyes shifting around, a little line creased between her brows.

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