Chapter 21
Chapter
Lennon
I delighted in teasing Vivian. She was so honest with her reactions that the power went right to my head. I was lust-drunk on her sweet sounds and soft skin. Her mouth… I was going to have dreams and lots of fantasies about that delectable, soft mouth.
She made a cute, disgruntled sound that ended on a plaintive sigh as I steered us onto the road. “Okay. For now. But I’m not really into playing games, Lennon.”
I reached over and caught her hand, pressing kisses to her knuckles. “I’ll never play games with you.” At her side-eye, I grimaced. “Again. I’ll never play emotional or mental games with you. Your body, though? That I want to play with. Often.”
We rode in silence for the next few minutes until I pulled into the putt-putt lot. Vivian perked up, her eyes bright. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” she exclaimed.
She was out of her door and heading toward the reception desk before I managed to lock the truck. I chuckled, enjoying her enthusiasm.
Once we had our putters and balls—Vivian insisted on a sparkly purple one, which I hadn’t even known was a choice—we headed to the first hole.
“Why haven’t you ever played before?” I asked.
“My mom and I always planned to go. It was something she and my dad used to do when they were dating. But I was busy with school and friends, and then with caring for her and earning my degree. There just wasn’t a good time.”
Vivian set her ball down and gripped her club. She held it too high, and her feet weren’t parallel to the putter, all of which would make it harder for her to make her shot. I’d learned that from Keelie, Cormac’s wife. She was an avid golfer. If Vivian enjoyed today, she might want to join Keelie on the real course sometime.
Warmth washed over me at the idea of Keelie and Vivian becoming friends. The idea that had niggled me months before now returned—I needed to look for a house in the neighborhood where Cormac, Maxim, and Naese lived. Houses there seldom went up for sale, but with the right real estate agent, I should be able to find something nearby.
That was…if Vivian decided to stay. She seemed keen, but everything had been out of a storybook this week. Real life, like my mother’s illness, might well drive a wedge between us.
Vivian whacked the ball, and it sailed over the obstacles and rolled into the hole. I gaped. She threw her arms up and cheered. The group behind us clapped.
“I knew I’d be good at this.” She beamed at me.
My heart expanded and thundered against my ribs. I’d fallen in love with Vivian over that weekend in Michigan, but now I was head-over-ass confounded by my feelings for her. I smiled even as I blinked back the tears that sprang to my eyes. I knew I’d remember this moment forever.
A couple hours later, I scowled as Vivian tallied up the final scores. “Beginner’s luck,” I grouched.
“Oh, don’t be a sore loser. I was awesome,” she said. “And it’s not like I won by that many strokes.”
“Seven is a lot.”
“You had bad luck with the windmill.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you tell me to work on my hand-eye coordination again, I’ll…”
Vivian’s giggle caused me to trail off. Seeing her so happy made me happy. I grabbed both our putters in one hand and cupped her cheek with my free one. Then I kissed her. I was slow, just a tease of lip and teeth before I slipped my tongue into her mouth. Desire detonated, and I reveled in wanting her.
“Get a room!”
The shout from a group of teen boys behind us helped me regain some sense of place—and propriety. Vivian’s cheeks were flushed and her eyes alight with desire and mischief. It was a very, very good look for her.