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Chapter Twenty

Alex

My heart still pounds away in my chest as I follow Mack down the hall to his room.

Part of me wants to say something about what happened, but I should let it go, chalk it up to a heat of the moment thing, even if it was more than that.

Mack had every option to run, and he didn’t. He looked at me, and he saw me.

And he didn’t run.

Instead, he did the very thing I needed him to do. He pushed me over the edge and flipped the switch.

Before I can say a word, we come up on the wedding party all corralled outside of his room, taking up the entire width of the hallway.

Everyone is in disarray. Hudson’s shirt is soaked, with sweat or alcohol, I have no clue.

Trey is bee-bopping around with his tie wrapped around his head.

Paul is making out with one of the bridesmaids, while the remaining bridesmaids are chatting with one another.

Andre pushes off the wall and meets us halfway.

Mack pulls out his key card as Andre says, “It’s about time.”

I smile, shoving my hands in my pockets.

“Where’s the champagne, Dre? I thought you were in charge of drinks?”

“Oh shit, I forgot, I—”

Mack opens the door and everyone files in.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say as I pull out my phone. “I’ll take care of it.” I give Andre a fake smile, but he can’t tell the difference. I know someone who apparently can, if his glare means anything, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.

“Hi, this is Alex Brewer from the Brewer-Thomas Wedding. Yes. If you would so kindly send up—”I hold the phone to my chest as I meet Mack’s gaze. The girls start giggling about something and Andre and Hudson are laughing their asses off.

“What do you want?” I ask, blinking at Mack.

“What do I want?” He scoffs, eyebrows raised.

“Today, Mackenzie.”

He glares at me, huffing out an annoyed grunt. “Champagne is fine, I guess. I don’t fucking know what these assholes want. ”

I roll my eyes, getting back on the phone.

“Yes, I’m still here, babe. I’ll take two bottles of champagne, a bottle of vodka and some mixers, extra cherries, please, and oh—can you toss in some appetizer platters?

You know the ones with the wings and the cheese sticks and stuff?

Yeah, give us like four of those. Oh! And I could really go for a shrimp cocktail.

” I hold the phone to my chest again, meeting Mack’s steely gaze.

“You sure you don’t want anything else?”

He shrugs. “What I want isn’t on the menu.”

I grin. “We’ll see about that,” I say before I finish up my phone conversation.

“Yeah, charge it to Diana Brewer, please.”

I’ll get shit for charging all of this to my mother’s account, but a part of me feels almost gleeful knowing it’s going to irritate the shit out of her.

She’ll pay it, though. She wouldn’t be caught dead looking anything but perfect in the eyes of our loathsome family.

I have to get my digs in where I can, since the only thing my parents understand is money rather than words.

When the food and drinks finally come, everyone’s too tired to do much else other than eat, and as such, they all leave not long after.

“Amateurs,” I gripe as they all make excuses to leave, but honestly, I don’t really care.

It’s late and everyone’s been up for hours. I make my way towards the door, but Mack’s voice stops me .

“Where are you going?” he asks. He hasn’t touched the champagne since it arrived, instead he’s been nursing his bottled water for the last two hours.

Probably not a bad idea, considering all the alcohol he’s consumed. My last round of champagne is starting to wear off already, and I feel a headache coming on.

“Uh… back to my room?” I raise an eyebrow, my hand poised above the doorknob.

He caps his water, setting it down on the nightstand. The room is littered with empty glasses and plastic cups, boxes and plates of food spread out along the dressers and any ledge available.

“I didn’t tell you to leave,” he says nonchalantly.

I lick my lips, looking between him and the door.

“You asking me to stay, Mackenzie?” I ask, dropping my hand from the door knob.

He twists his lips as he grabs a plate of untouched cheese sticks and wings, and the large, barely-touched shrimp cocktail.

I’d had every intention of devouring it upon arrival, but I’d gotten sidetracked with pouring everyone’s drinks and making sure they all got something to eat.

Plus, I had to make sure no one ended up injured because they were all dancing and jumping on the bed like little kids, laughing up a drunk storm.

“Maybe.” He shrugs, taking the food and plopping down on his bed.

He grabs the remote and turns the TV on.

He doesn’t look at me, just sets the large glass goblet of iced shrimp and cocktail sauce between his legs.

I make my way over to him, worried that at any minute he’ll realize I’m actually still here.

That he’ll change his mind about… whatever this is.

He flips through the channels. I sit next to him carefully, kicking my shoes off. They hit the floor with a thud and I get comfortable on the other side of the bed. I pick up the plate of wings and cheese sticks, settle next to him, and sit the plate of appetizers in my lap.

“Well, if you insist,” I say, trying to hide my grin.

I watch as he flips through the channels, and for a minute I think maybe he’s tuned me out completely, until he pulls his gaze from the television and looks at me, and damn it, my heart fucking stops.

Because it’s not heated or lustful or angry or jealous.

It’s sweet. Comfortable. Like he doesn’t mind my being here with him, squished on this small double bed.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.

He turns back to his channel surfing. “For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“For… earlier.” I’m worried if I bring this up I’ll somehow ruin everything, but I also feel like I need to say it. I need him to understand just how much he actually helped me.

How much it mattered to me .

“And for saving my fucking shrimp.” I reach between his legs and grab a jumbo shrimp. I make a show of dredging it in the cocktail sauce before sucking on it dramatically, and then I bite down.

He shakes his head.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that?” There’s no aggression in his tone, no bitterness. It’s friendly. Warm, even.

“Yup. One hundred percent,” I say as he grabs a cheese stick off my plate. He grins and makes a show of popping the whole thing into his mouth and moaning. I know he’s just being cocky and mocking the hell out of me, but I don’t care. I smile and laugh.

“Your technique needs work,” I say, making a frightened face.

“Shut the fuck up,” he grunts, but its tinged in laughter.

“Make me,” I say, my gaze meeting his. I say it with humor, fully intending to poke fun at myself, make light of what happened earlier, so I don’t feel so exposed or vulnerable.

He leans in a fraction, and I look into those amber eyes. For a moment, I think they are the clearest I’ve ever seen them.

I don’t expect him to kiss me, but he does .

His hand settles on my neck, but he doesn’t grab me or choke me. His thumb strokes the column of my throat and I relax into his kiss so easily it should be a crime.

The way this man can control me… fuck, it’s dangerous.

He really is going to be the death of me. I can feel it.

He breaks away and I say nothing. I am completely and utterly speechless.

Well played, Mackenzie.

His free hand settles on his thigh, his pinky brushing the side of my hand, and he doesn’t move it.

“Oh my God,” I say when he changes the channel and I get a glimpse of the movie he’s passed. “Go back.”

He flips backward to the channel that’s playing How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, and I let out a laugh.

“Keep this on,” I say. “Kate Hudson is a riot in this! And then the little dog, and like… oh my God. Cinematic perfection.”

Mack raises an eyebrow, looking a little scared. “Seriously?”

I go for another shrimp, dipping it in too much cocktail sauce and chucking it in my mouth.

“Fuck yeah,” I say with a mouthful.

“Never seen it,” Mack admits, setting the remote down.

“You’ll love it.” I lean into him a little more. He grabs another cheese stick.

“Why do you say that?”

I shrug. “I mean, the whole point of the story is she tries to push him away, but he falls in love, anyway.”

“That sounds awful,” he says, but he shifts his position and stretches his arm behind me, not around me, but it makes me smile. I have no idea what is going on here, but I’m not going to fight it.

I eat my last shrimp and move the goblet along with the plate of one cheese stick and four wings to the end table.

Mack kicks his legs out, shaking some messy hair out of his eyes. He watches the movie intently. I curl next to him, my body fitting perfectly against his side.

“This okay?” I ask as I look up at him.

He doesn’t look back at me, just keeps his eyes on the screen.

“If it wasn’t, I’d tell you.”

There’s honesty in his voice, and I keep thinking about what he said earlier.

This is all I can give you right now.

Maybe one day it’ll be different.

Come tomorrow morning, everything will change. Things will go back to the way they were before. All memory of drunken bathroom blowjobs and moments of weakness will be gone like Austen and Savannah on their way to Italy .

I lay my arm across his waist, setting my head on his chest as I curl closer, waiting for him to push me away, but he doesn’t.

He shifts so we’re both level and his arm falls over my shoulders.

I watch the bright screen as Kate Hudson comes out with her potted plant during Matthew McConaughey’s poker game, screaming about how he let their love fern die.

Jordan laughs. A real laugh that rumbles his entire body, and I can’t help but laugh, too.

“Told you,” I say as I close my eyes, exhaustion hitting me. The sound of his heartbeat in my ears, the vibration steady against my cheek, and his fingers stroking my hair lull me into the most comfortable space until I doze off.

“Hey.” I feel him shake me, his voice tinged with sleep.

“Hay is for horses,” I grumble as I blink my eyes open to see the credits rolling.

“Movie’s over,” he says. “Probably should get some sleep.”

I nod, stretching my arms above my head. My neck is all fucked up from sleeping on him in a not so natural position.

“Yeah, you too,” I say as I grab my shoes, watching as he undresses. Part of me wants to stay, but if he wanted me to stay, he wouldn’t have woken me up. And if he didn’t want me to leave, he’d certainly say so.

We’ve already been down that road, so I know not to push things. Like he said, if he wasn’t okay with something I’d know. So, despite wanting to stay, I do as he asks, and I leave.

Once in my hotel room, I slip out of my suit, or what’s left of it, anyway. I crawl into bed alone, but for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel completely alone, and I sleep like a fucking baby.