And then a miracle happened: Beck and Sam got engaged.
The wedding had been a saving grace in a dark time. It gave me something to focus on, a place to invest my time and energy instead of thinking about the future. There was probably irony in the situation somewhere, what with the almost daily reminder of how goddamn happy Beck and Sam were together. But any jealousy I had, I was able to keep the reigns on. Beck was my friend and she’d been through her own trying times. She deserved everything she had coming to her.
What would I do once the weekend was over though? That was the question I didn’t want to think about, even though it had been pushing itself into my thought stream with increasing frequency as the day of the wedding inched closer.
“Ummm…” I said, trying to decide how to summarize my situation to Jules. I finally landed on, “Single, not looking to mingle.”
“Really?” she said. “That’s so cool of you.” Her tone carried the implication that I was a brave modern woman, forging the way through solitude so the rest of them didn’t have to.
“Sure,” I said. “I just broke up with my boyfriend in the spring though.” See, I could date, if I wanted to.
“That sucks.”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t. He was a huge asshole actually. Don’t know why I stayed with him as long as I did.”
“Couldn’t have been any worse than Daniel,” Mac said over his shoulder, saying my ex’s name with a sneer. Had he been listening in on us the entire time?
“Actually,” I said stiffly, “it was Daniel.”
Mac stopped walking at my words and turned around. “Are you serious?” he asked. He looked genuinely surprised. “You actually dated that dick for a full year?”
“I was going to break up with him until you punched him,” I said coolly. “But then I realized that if he got on your nerves there must be some redeeming value there.”
He scoffed. “Oh yeah, sure. And did you ever find it?” I hesitated and he smirked. “Yeah that’s what I thought.”
“Mac…” Keegan started wearily.
“Why the hell are you listening in on us?” That, surprisingly, was Jules. She put one hand on her hip and stared Mac down from close to his own height. “We didn’t ask for your opinion. Turn back around. It’s not like you’re any prize.”
Well damn. Mac scowled, but actually listened, furrowing his brow and stalking ahead. Keegan gave us a grimace and hurried to keep up.
“Thanks,” I said hesitantly.
“He honestly just pisses me off,” Jules said. “That stripper shit was ridiculous. And how dare he criticize who you date! What a piece of shit.”
I looked at Jules with a new appreciation. I wondered if we were going to have something in common after all — a passionate dislike of Mac Walsh. “Tell me about it,” I said.
“Did he really punch your ex?” she asked.
“Oh god, let me tell you…” I launched into an explanation of the night that carried us until we reached the tennis courts where the guys were waiting.
“Hope you stretched, boys,” Jules called ahead. “‘Cause we’re going to kick your asses.”
I winced internally at her words. I hadn’t mentioned to Jules that I was most definitely not a great tennis player. I majored in design. Most of high school was spent sitting on the bleachers and sketching the players. While I had run track, my hand-eye coordination wasn’t fantastic.
But maybe it wasn’t as hard as it looked. I didn’t want to lose face in front of Mac.
He stood casually against the chain-link fence surrounding the courts, one hand resting against it, showing off the curve of his bicep, dark hair drooping over brooding eyes in a casual scruff.
He watched us approach with an unreadable expression on his face, but his eyes never left mine. If he was wondering what kind of game I was playing by following him here, he had no idea what he was in for. I might not be a great tennis player, and we were probably going to lose the game, but in the bigger picture? I was coming out the champion.
“We’ll see about that,” Keegan replied to Jules’ challenge. Tall, athletic Keegan who worked out every day and whose job was literally swiping at balls (albeit with his hands instead of racquets). Yeah, I was screwed.
The resort people must have known we were coming because there was a table set out with racquets and a basket of tennis balls in addition to water bottles and light refreshments. An attendant stood nearby, but not too nearby. Just the right amount of distance to preserve our privacy but still be there in a snap just in case we needed anything. I wondered if they’d measured the best possible distance with a yard stick. The accommodations were so perfect that they must have been calculated for our ultimate convenience.
“Which side are you more comfortable on?” Jules asked me as we crossed to our side of the court.
Did she mean right or left, or front or back? “Right,” I guessed confidently.
Jules nodded. “Good, I’m left-handed. We’re going to sweep them.”
“What do you say, Keegan?” Mac asked loudly from across the net. “Give ‘em sixty percent power? Or is that too much?”
“Nah, we might have to go fifty,” Keegan joked. I could see his smile from here, but he sobered at the look Jules shot him.
“Stop talking and serve,” Jules shouted.
Mac shrugged and tossed the ball, whacking it hard and fast. Shit, we were already starting. What about a little warm up? Some light stretching? Maybe even—
There was no time to finish a thought. The ball was hurtling at me.
I fought every urge to duck and cover and smacked it with my racquet as hard as I could back at them. The ball flew high, bounced once on Keegan’s side before he served it over to Jules.
His hit wasn’t as aggressive as Mac’s, but I could tell he knew what he was doing. It was immediately clear he was better than Mac. Keegan just looked comfortable on the court whereas Mac, with his dark energy and lazy indifference just seemed out of place. He’d said yesterday, with no hint of humor, that he’d grown up in a slum. If he was being honest, I had to assume there weren’t ample tennis lessons available for him.
After I managed to hit the ball and not spontaneously combust, I got more comfortable. Not entirely, but enough so that I could loosen up and just try my best. Unfortunately, tennis skills were not made entirely by being at ease. It became apparent pretty quickly to the others that I had zero clue what I was doing, especially once I had to serve.
“No,” Keegan said, batting the ball back to my side. “You don’t bounce the ball first. That’s ping pong.”
“Ah, gotcha,” I said trying not to sound as embarrassed as I felt.
I threw it up and swung, trying to hit it mid-air, and missed horribly, sending it bouncing away off to the side of the court. “I got it,” I said, jogging over and hoping my cheeks weren’t burning. I could feel Mac’s eyes in the back of my head. Jules was no longer hyping us up as the victors.
Well, screw ‘em, I thought bitterly. Not everyone gives a shit about tennis. This is supposed to be fun.
But I didn’t want it to be fun. I wanted to win. I wanted to beat Mac and do a victory dance and shove it in his stupid, gorgeous face.
The game wasn’t doing anything to quell those betraying thoughts of attraction. Watching Mac pace on the other side of the net was like watching a tiger in a cage. He stalked back and forth, muscles rippling, eyes hostile and telling me exactly what he’d do if the glass was gone. He would devour me. And as much as I hated to admit it, a part of me desperately wanted to know what those clenched hands felt like between my legs.
Jules carried the team, but we still got swept, losing all three games. I gave her a half-hearted grin as the guys celebrated idiotically.
“Sorry,” I said.
She didn’t look back at me. “It’s fine,” she said tersely.
Well, damn. It was just a game. Whatever camaraderie we’d developed on the walk over didn’t seem to be lasting.
The guys came over and I booed, causing Keegan to clutch at his heart in jest. “Aw, don’t be a bad sport,” he said. “It’s just the way it had to be.”
“Whatever,” Jules said. “I didn’t even want to play tennis anyway. Now it’s my turn to pick what we do.”
“Sure thing, babe,” Keegan said. “And it better involve—” he whispered in her ear and I turned away, uncomfortable as I remembered last night.
With little else around, I was forced to look at Mac, who returned my gaze. His broad arms crossed over his chest, but his face was relaxed.
“Going to gloat?” I challenged.
His temper seemed to have gone down with the victory because a smile actually fell across his face. It brightened every part of his features. “Oh you better believe it,” he said. “Have you ever played tennis in your life?”
“Might have played badminton when I was a kid,” I said. “And maybe a round or two of ping pong.”
He snorted. “It’s obvious.”
The jab made me reach for my own bag of observations. “Do you actually like playing?” I asked. “I can’t picture teenage Mac picking up a tennis racquet.”
“Maybe to beat someone with,” he said like that was a normal thing to say. “But to hit a ball around? Hell, no.”
“So then let me guess,” I said. “You picked up tennis because it was a rich person thing and you wanted to fit in. Do you also play golf? Or maybe polo?”
The smile disappeared, but his eyes still held humor. “Feck no,” he said. “You wouldn’t catch me on a horse. Not in a million years. As for golf, the only good part is a day buzz and trying to get air hitting hills in those little carts. No, tennis is a side effect of my friendship with Keegan.”
“Surprised it’s not basketball,” I said.
He scoffed. “And why would I subject myself to playing a pro? Nah, at least with tennis I’ve got a shot at winning.”
“And do you?”
He didn’t answer and I laughed.
“Hey we’re going back to the resort,” Keegan interjected. “Coming with us?”
“Yeah,” I said, looking at Mac, “what are we doing?”
Any good humor left in a flash. “Are you serious?” he asked. “You’re really going to follow me around all day?”
“Oh I’m completely serious. And it’s not just today,” I said, taking a step closer to him. “Until Beck and Sam say ‘I do’, I’m going to be around for the ride.”
Keegan and Jules exchanged a quick glance and Keegan said, “Well, we’re heading back. Good playing with you.” Then they all but ran out of the court, leaving Mac and me alone.
He rubbed his eyes. “Aren’t you poor?” he asked suddenly.
“What?” I asked. What angle was this? “I’m not poor.”
He waved me away impatiently. “I mean relatively.”
I scoffed. “Well, yeah if you compare the two of us, it’s a miracle I put food on the table.”
“So then why can’t you just relax and enjoy the resort? It’s not like you’ll ever have this chance again. To go crazy in an all-inclusive resort and do all the stuff your friends are getting up to right now.” He snapped his fingers like he just had a revelation. “You know what I think?”
“No,” I said, “but I’m sure you’ll tell me.”
“I think you don’t know how to relax. I think you need a project or something to control or your entire world falls apart.” His face settled into a self-satisfied smirk at ‘figuring me out’.
My mouth hung open. “Did you just call me a control freak?” I asked.
“Call it what you want.”
“Well, for your information, I’m very much not a control freak. But I’m also not stupid. This wedding is going to go off without a hitch. You’re a hitch. A goddamn time bomb ticking in the wedding cake. The others don’t have any responsibility, but it’s my job to get Beck down that aisle even if I have to carry her on my back. And after the stunts you’ve pulled, I don’t know how you’d expect me to act any different.”
“The strippers were an accident. And Mariana too,” he said dismissively.
“Once is an accident. Twice is suspicious. I’m not waiting for a third. I don’t care how you spend your week. Just be prepared for me to be there for it.” I crossed my arms. “And you might have won at tennis, but you might as well just accept this because you’re always going to lose.”
Mac looked at me like he’d just discovered a new and horrifying insect, one that he was seriously considering stepping on because humanity could only be impaired by it. Then his face twisted into a look I didn’t like.
“Okay,” he said. “We’ll see about that.” There was no anger in his tone. I wished there had been. Instead, he sounded practically jolly, which was infinitely worse.
“What’s the matter?” I asked suspiciously.
“Nothing,” he said. “You go for it. Follow me everywhere. I already know what I want to do next.” He took off across the court without waiting for my response.
I didn’t like this. Not at all.
9
Mac
I couldn’t hide the huge grin on my face as Alice came to the dawning realization of where we were and why.
It was the spa part of the resort, where they did the massages and hot stone treatments and mud baths, draping seaweed (or was it kelp?) over rich women’s faces in an attempt to absorb some youth back into their flesh. Somewhere within the bowels of these halls Sam and Beck were in peaceful, romantic bliss. Lucky them.
I was much happier where I was, locked in a silent battle of wills with the indomitable presence that was Alice.
“Nothing more relaxing after a workout than a bit of relaxation in the steam room, don’t ya think?” Well, maybe not so silent. I couldn’t help but goad. Any moment now, she’d be running for the hills.
We were in the locker area outside of a foggy glass door. Inside, tendrils of steam leaked between the boarded seats. It was a private room, of course. Nobody with my bank account was going to sit in a public chamber, surrounded by dripping strangers, their sweat absorbing into the seats and pooling on the floor.
And I had a good feeling that Alice would rather lick them head to balls rather than go in there with me. But while we both knew that I wasn’t going to be ‘up to anything’ while I was inside, a challenge was being set.
She was standing with her back to the door, stiff as a board, watching me with guarded eyes as I moved around the room, gathering the towels the resort had left us into a stack.
I pulled my shirt off and flexed my stiff muscles. Her eyes darted to my pecs and down to my abs but just as quickly found my face again. The temptation was there, but she’d never give in to it. Her meaningless crusade against me had her on the straight and narrow.
But even though she knew where this was going, she wasn’t backing down yet. So why don’t we see how she feels about the slightly curved and thick?
I dropped-trou, sliding my athletic shorts off and hanging them on a hook. My cock and balls hung freely, unrestrained by briefs.
She groaned and rolled her eyes like I’d just told a bad joke. “What?” she asked disparagingly. “No jock?” It was the first thing she’d said since we’d entered the room.
“Forgot to pack it,” I replied with a grin.
It seemed like Alice might need a bit of a shove out the door. She didn’t look thrilled at my nudity, but she also wasn’t in a rush to leave. Of course, she had seen it yesterday. I needed to up my game.
I stretched my arms overhead in an exaggerated motion, displaying my entire muscled form. I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, feeling the stiffness in my body relax, my tendons twitching and loosening. There was still zero expression on her face. But that was fine. I could go harder (not literally).
<
br /> I put one leg up on the bench and did some lunges, groaning obnoxiously as my muscles flexed. “Oh yeah. That’s the stuff.” Little Mac (inaccurate but I hated to compare him to a substandard burger) danced a merry jig at the movement and I wondered how much effort it took not to stare. Probably as much as it was taking me not to laugh.
When her expression never changed from unamused, I stopped the antics and stood in front of her with my arms crossed.
“You coming in?” I asked.
“Of course.” There was no hesitation.
“Then you’d better get undressed. I’m feeling lonely all vulnerable out here.” I wasn’t, of course. I had zero issues with nudity. Alice on the other hand…
“I’ll take one of those towels,” she said, pointing at the stack.
Oh no, you don’t get to take the easy way out. “These towels?” I asked innocently, grabbing them. I walked toward her, holding her gaze. She reached for one, but just as it looked like I was going to hand them over, I opened the door to the hallway and threw them out, quickly shutting it behind them.
She inhaled sharply. “What the hell did you do that for?” she demanded.
“It’s a steam room and towels are for pussies. You don’t have to come in, but if you do, it’s going to be as God intended.”
“I really hope God didn’t intend any of this,” she muttered.
Finally there was hesitance on her face. Her eyes darted to the door and lingered there for a second too long. I’d thrown her and the previously carefully-guarded emotions were now cycling across her face with unchecked abandon.
I grinned. I’d won, she’d lost, and this idiotic scheme to mess up my week was going to go tits up on day one.
Then her face hardened and my heart sank. Oh come on. She held my eye as she reached behind her and pulled her shirt up over her head, revealing a toned, lithe body and what looked to be good-sized breasts ensnared in a sports bra.
I leaned against the wall, waiting. She won’t go any further. Just as the thought entered my head, she pulled the straps down and took it off in a single practiced motion.
The Groomsman: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance (Billionaires of Club Tempest) Page 10
