“Please, Maggie.” Mac said, “Just take the damn sweater.”
It was the "please," that changed her mind.
She pulled the cotton over her head. It was big enough that Mac had to cuff the wrists for her, and it fell to only a few inches above the hem of her dress. It was soft against her skin, warm from Mac’s body, blanketing her in his unique scent. Mac left the quarter zip undone and Maggie turned her nose into the collar, letting the smell of her friend’s boyfriend’s brother wash over her like the ebbing waves of the tide. Mac watched her, chest heaving, in a cream colored Henley. Maggie licked her lips and shivered again, but this time it wasn’t from the cold.
There was no saving Maggie’s team—her score was truly abysmal—but Maggie still felt like a winner when the game ended. This had been a date. Dean wrapped his arms and body around her, squared up her shots, and she was pretty sure he’d been flirting with her. Especially when Mac looked their way. Was Dean jealous of Mac?
He didn’t need to be. Mac was a nice guy. He’d helped her. He’d protected her. He always seemed to pay attention to what she said and what she needed. He was fun to talk to, and with his shrewd eyes, glowering mouth, and bulging forearms, he was definitely fun to look at. Not that she was attracted to Mac. Maggie needed a foundational relationship in order to feel the stirring of arousal and, to be honest, Dean had occupied that section in her brain for as long as she could remember. There wasn’t room for anyone else. It was nice that Dean was getting protective of their faux liaison, but Mac wasn’t a threat. Maggie was never attracted to people she didn’t know.
You do know Mac,her brain singsonged, the words ricocheting off of the crevices in her mind like bouncy balls dropped from a second-story balcony.And what you know, you like.Maggie pushed the thoughts away. They didn’t matter. Not when she was finally making headway with the man of her dreams.
Dean reached for Maggie’s club and she handed it to him. He walked to the welcome booth to turn them both in, and Maggie glanced down at the yellow ball she still held in her hand. She probably should have given it to Dean, but she hadn’t thought of it. Everyone else’s ball dropped into the PVC pipe buried under the last hole, but Maggie had missed again, shocker, and she’d slipped the ball into her fist instead of playing through.
“Are you okay?” Mac’s voice said from over her shoulder, and Maggie turned to look at him, her smile automatically spreading across her face. Mac shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he watched Dean chat with Cal and Audrey by the entrance.
“Why?” Maggie wanted to know. Of course she was fine. She’d had an amazing day. No screw-ups, no throw up. What was Mac seeing that she wasn’t?
“You threw your game,” he said, finally tipping his chin down to look at her.
Mac had never played mini golf with Maggie. She and Audrey had played before, Cal, too, but never her and Mac. There was no way he should have known that she was faking her bad shots. Even Audrey hadn’t picked up on her fumbling. Maggie frowned, rolling her golf ball from one hand to the other.
“How did you—”
“You lined up each shot perfectly, and then right before each hole you’d shift your weight back and swing just a little off. Every single time.” Mac crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow at Maggie, as if challenging her to deny his claim.
“I’m great,” she told him instead. “It was worth it. Besides, I noticed you cheated on the coin toss. You never checked heads or tails, so I guess we both played our own game today.”
“It was worth it,” Mac repeated her words. This time, when his lips twitched, Maggie was sure he was smiling. There was a flash of straight white teeth, and then Mac reached over Maggie’s shoulder and snagged her yellow game ball.
“I have to turn that in,” Maggie said, but she made no move to grab the ball. It looked positively tiny in Mac’s hands as he carefully cradled it against his palm.
“I’ll do it.” He curled his fingers over the rough surface and shoved the ball into the front pocket of his dark jeans.
“Don’t forget your sweater,” Maggie said and reached for the hem.
Mac’s eyes flicked to Dean. He and Audrey and Cal were making their way back to the green. “Keep it,” his deep voice said, and Maggie dropped her hands.
“I can’t just keep your sweater, Mac,” Maggie said, turning to face him because her neck was getting a crick. Not because he looked solid and strong in the sun's light, wind ruffling his hair.
“Okay,” Mac said. He met her gaze head on. “I’ll get it back someday.” Mac reached out a hand and traced her hair clip. “I like the books, Maggie. They're perfect on you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Whenthenextweekendcame, Maggie was ready. She and Dean were about halfway through their faux entanglement, and while their dates had been fun and Dean had played the role of her boyfriend in spectacular fashion, Maggie still felt like they were right where they started. Her crush on her best friend’s brother still flattened her daily, and while he was allowing her closer and closer, it was almost impossible for Maggie to know if he was playacting the dutiful partner or if his feelings were changing to mirror hers.
Maggie had been reading a lot more than she’d been writing over the last few weeks. She spent about half of her time buried in books to find new date ideas and the other half trying to calm her meandering brain. She had exhausted most of her sweeter, more tender romance novels already, thumbing through well-read and dog-eared pages to find the moments where the hero and heroine finally recognized their chemistry and love.
She’d been devouring the scenes where they turned to each other, passion and love clear in each movement of their bodies and each shudder of their breaths. She felt the tingling start of some of those emotions, and some of the breathless tension, but she hadn’t yet experienced the moment where her mind went crystalline lake calm, and the words tumbled out with absolute certainty.
Maybe instead of inspiring Dean’s emotional response, Maggie should focus on a physical one? She could graduate to some of her steamier romance novels, the ones that made her blush but kept her turning page after page as her heart pounded in her chest and the place between her thighs went slick, pulsing to the words that flowed over her like thick honey. Maybe it was time to leave romcom territory behind and plan a date that would remind Dean she wasn’t the terrified kid he’d had to shepherd on and off the school bus.
“I’m going out,” Maggie said to Audrey, after work. “I’m going to dress up and get a drink and remind myself that I’m an adult.”
“Do you want me and Cal to tag along?” Audrey spread her body back over Maggie’s striped comforter.
“No.” Maggie ran a brush through her damp hair. “I’ve got a place in mind that isn’t quite either of your scenes.”
“I’m not sure you should go out drinking alone. I don’t think anybody should.”