Page 38 of Make Me Want it Too

I carry her up the lawn and around to the house. She finally relaxes and lays her head down on my shoulder. I match Spencer’s glare as we pass him and shake my head at Bex to keep her at bay.

Macy tightens her grip around my neck when we get inside, and I never want to put her down. But she insists on walking up the stairs herself, and I’m happy to see she doesn’t seem as wobbly.

We get up to the room, and she immediately heads to the bathroom and shuts the door. I go to touch the handle, listening. But all I hear is running water in the sink and drawers opening and closing.

“How are you feeling?” I ask when she comes out, a little bit of color back in her face.

“Better. I just need to lie down and eat something.”

She lies on top of the quilt, and I hand her a granola bar. Not one from the basket I got from the kitchen, but one of the ones she likes from home.

“Thanks,” she says as I sit by her feet, her eyes already half-lidded. “I’m sorry I’ve ruined your afternoon. I ruin everything. You can go back down and hang out with people. I’m just going to nap.”

“You haven’t ruined anything. And I’d much rather be up here with you than down there with any of them.”

“Even Margot?” She takes a bite of granola bar.

What? “Margot?” This seems out of nowhere.

“Yeah. I mean, she’s totally your type, and if you weren’t here pretending to be with me, you and she could be hooking up or something. I’m basically rooster blocking you.”

“Rooster blocking? Oh, wait—you mean cock blocking?”

“Duh.” Her eyes are shut now, granola bar almost gone.

“First of all, I’m not pretending to be here with you, I am here with you. And Margot isn’t even on my radar.”

Macy harrumphs.

Okay, maybe she would have been on my radar under different circumstances.

“Mace, if I had my pick of any of the women here, I’d pick you.” My heart stops for a second at the admission.

“Shut up. You would not.”

“I would.”

“Stop lying.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You’re just trying to make me feel better.”

I don’t know how to be any clearer or make her believe me. “I’m not. It’s true.”

She chuckles, sets the wrapper aside, and settles down into her pillow. “Thanks for making me feel better.”

After a few minutes, she’s breathing quietly, her face peaceful.

I want to lie down next to her and watch her sleep, maybe rest as well, but then I remember how ungentlemanly I was wrapped around her this morning when I woke up and how thankful I was she didn’t realize.

I’ve never been the cuddle-while-I-sleep type. Another thing that’s different when it comes to Macy, I guess.

So I reluctantly open my laptop to get a little work done instead.

There are more than a few eyes on us as we walk into the full billiards room for dinner, and most of them have the last name Hayes. Macy’s arm, linked in mine, stiffens.

I know she doesn’t like it, the attention, the whispers, the scrutiny. But walking in with her on my arm fills my chest with this overwhelming warmth. Look at us, all of you fuckers. I’m with the prettiest girl here. I can’t help but smile when I glance at her.

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