Page 162 of The Games We Play
We stood in the doorway of the barn, and it’d been completely transformed.
Warm string lights hung from the rafters, bathing the space in a soft, golden glow. Rose petals had been scattered across the floor in the shape of a giant heart. It was intimate. Dreamlike.
I turned to Mac, my eyes pooling slightly with tears of pure joy.
My jaw might’ve hit the floor because he lookeddevastatinglygood.
He stood proud in an all-black, sinfully tailored suit. His black dress shirt was unbuttoned just enough to reveal the edge of the tattoo on his chest. Cowboy boots grounded the look, but with everything else? He looked like temptation in fabric.
I bit my lip, unable to look away.
“You like what you see, Pen?” he asked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I nodded slowly, dragging out my reply with a grin. “I do.”
Just then, soft country music filtered through hidden speakers, the kind of song that tugged at your heartstrings and begged for slow dancing.
Mac reached for my hand and walked backward, leading me into the center of the rose petal heart.
His hands settled at my waist instinctively, like they belonged there. My arms draped around his neck as I tilted my head to look up at him.
“I was going to ask if you’d dance with me,” he murmured, “but I guess it’s second nature now.”
“Is this our thing?” I asked quietly.
“I guess so,” he said, smiling down at me. “We’re not really dancers… but somehow, this is what we keep coming back to.”
“Maybe because it gives us an excuse to touch each other?”
Mac chuckled, his voice a warm rumble against my chest. “I’m always looking for a reason to be close to you.”
“This was sweet,” I whispered, my voice barely carrying over the soft hum of the music. “Everything you planned tonight.”
Mac’s lips curved, but there was something unreadable in his expression—something more. “It’s not over,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve been working on something else.”
I tilted my head, curiosity blooming like wildflowers in my chest.
Still swaying with me, Mac reached into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulled out his phone. He kept one arm looped around my waist as he glanced down at the screen. I followed his gaze and saw a long string of text in his notes app—paragraphs. Plural.
My eyes flicked back to his, breath catching.
“I’m gonna read something I wrote,” he said, his voice low and nervous. “Because I didn’t want to fuck this up.”
I nodded, swallowing the lump forming in my throat, already blinking against the tears threatening to fall.
Mac cleared his throat.
“Penelope,” he began, “these last few months have been the best months of my life. Getting to know you—your mind, your heart, and yes, your body.” He paused, lifting his gaze to meet mine, and gave me a quick, teasing wink. “Has been time I’d relive a thousand times over.
“From the moment we sat around that bonfire last year, I knew I was going to make you mine. Whether it was just onenight or multiple, I knew I’d have a piece of you. But deep down, I think I always knew… it was never just going to be one night. You were my undoing before you even said a damn word. Then you opened that beautiful mouth and my God…”
I laughed, the sound breaking free as I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his chest for a second, my smile soaking into the fabric of his shirt.
Mac’s voice softened, his tone shifting with regret. “Then I fucked it all up. I was stupid. Naive. I thought a woman as fierce, beautiful, and strong as you would just… come back to me. That I’d be forgiven without doing the work. I waited. Hoped. Thought maybe I could coast and get back what we had.”
He shook his head.
“But you didn’t let me off that easily, and thank God you didn’t. You showed me that love isn’t easy. It’s earned. You made me better, Pen. You made mewantto be better. And you deserve that. You deserve all the attention, the intention. You deserve to be seen. Fought for. Worshipped.”
