“A bet, obviously. What do you say to a nod to the last one we made out here—whoever catches the most fish wins.”
She swallowed down the butterflies trying to escape from her stomach, remembering what that last bet had led to. “Name your terms.”
“Two hours. Most fish—by quantity—wins.”
“Thanks for the clarification. Glad to see you won’t try to cheat like last time.”
His mouth kicked up on the side, and she felt an answering tug in her stomach.
She swallowed down her nerves and licked her lips, forcing herself not to stare at his mouth. “What do you want if you win?”
“You know what I want,” he said, his voice laced with desire he didn’t bother trying to hide.
She felt that heat from her head to her toes and all the neglected parts in between. “And if I win?”
“You could bet me a million dollars, and it wouldn’t matter. I’m not losing, Kenna. Not when it’s you on the line.”
Turned out Hudson had been right—he didn’t lose the bet he’d made with Mac. In fact, he’d positively obliterated her. She’d never admit to it, but she hadn’t exactly put in one-hundred-percent effort. Or even seventy-percent effort. Because deep down, she wanted it too.
She wanted to spend time with Hud, exactly how he was suggesting, and…see. Just see what could come of it. See if their explosive chemistry—both in and out of the bedroom—could develop into…something. And somehow, having that bet there as her safety net made it a hell of a lot easier for her to accept.
Shewasn’t engaging in this reckless behavior that had the possibility of annihilating her heart.Shewasn’t fucking up again. When everything inevitably fell down around her, it wouldn’t be because of her failure. It was all because of the bet.
Mac followed the familiar path that led to Rory’s place from the small guesthouse she lived in on their parents’ property. The stars had aligned after Rory’s divorce, when Old Man Marley’s house had been put up for sale just a couple weeks prior, and she’d been able to purchase it.
The home had been in desperate need of repair, but the property included an acre of land that just happened to back up to the Havens’ sweeping estate. Sweeping enough that this golf cart Mac had won off an idiot who thought betting her was a good idea was a godsend for getting around everywhere.
She skidded to a stop along the side of Rory’s house, dust from the driveway billowing up around her, and honked the horn twice. Three seconds later, both her nieces came flying out the front door and down the porch steps, calling bye to their momma, obviously quite ready to get their Sunday ritual started.
“Y’all supposed to be doin’ chores, or what?” Mac asked dryly as soon as they plopped on their seats. “I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you fly out here so fast.”
“Girls!” Rory yelled, her voice carrying even from inside the house.
“Uh oh. You guys ran from something…” Mac kept her voice low so her sister wouldn’t overhear.
Rory stepped out onto the porch, hands braced on her hips and eyes narrowed at her daughters. “Since when is that a proper goodbye? Y’all just scream out that you’re leavin’ and run? I don’t think so. Get back up here.” She pointed to the space in front of her, her tone firm.
The girls both grumbled under their breath, but they did their momma’s bidding and trudged up the porch steps to give Rory a hug before grabbing something she handed each of them. With just as much speed as the first time, they dashed back to the cart and practically dove in.
“Put ’em on now,” Rory called from the porch. “It’s cold.”
“What’s she talkin’ about?” Mac asked out of the corner of her mouth, just loud enough for the girls to hear.
Ava rolled her eyes and thrust out a sparkly pink hat with a huge pompom on the top. “This stupid thing.”
“MyGod, that’s hideous. What are you, four?”
“That’s what I said!” Ava threw her arms up in exasperation.
“Mine’s worse.” Ella shoved hers—bright green, complete with oversized ear flaps—between the front seats.
Mac barely held in the laugh that so desperately wanted to escape, but she somehow managed it. “C’mon now, girls, your momma just wants to make sure you don’t get sick. And it looks like shetriedto pick out styles you’d both like.” She gestured to Ava’s sparkle-infused hat. “You normally love all things glittery.” Grabbing the hat Ella had shoved to the front, she shook it. “And your favorite color is green.”
Groans and grumbles were her only response, and this time, it was her turn to roll her eyes. One tweenager was enough, but lately, Ella had been jumping ship, replicating all that sass she’d learned from her older sister way too early for Mac’s liking. She honestly had no idea how Rory put up with it all.
“All right, y’all.” Mac tossed the hat back to Ella. “Put ’em on so your momma doesn’t have a stroke.”
“But, Aunt Maaaaaaac,” they both whined in unison.
