Chapter 50
Chapter Fifty
NASH
“Slow down,” I basically have to yell so Wyatt can hear me over the wind.
This golf cart feels like it’s doing a million miles an hour down the wooded path that leads from the farmhouse to the shore of Lake Michigan.
I pick his hand up off my thigh and put it back on the wheel.
“At least use two hands if you insist on flying like this.”
One more slight turn and we burst through the dense trees to a clearing.
The dirt road leads to a grassy area to park.
We pile out of the golf cart and carry sweatshirts, chairs, a cooler, and s’mores accoutrement through the grass where it stutters off into sand.
The sound of the waves crashing is as loud as the wind was on the way here, but much more relaxing.
The sun is just about to set over the huge expanse of water.
It’s crazy to see how it goes on forever, knowing that this isn’t the ocean.
Wyatt once told me that if you look really carefully on a clear day, you can see the lights of Michigan across the water, but I think he was fucking with me.
Sounds exactly like something Henry would have convinced him of as a kid.
A lot of the shore is owned by people who have beachfront houses, but some are connected to huge swaths of land like the Vandergriff’s, and some are small parcels that are beach clubs for local neighborhoods.
I pop the chairs open, facing the water, while Wyatt busies himself with the fire.
I would normally help, but I’m frozen in my spot, watching the way his hands maneuver the kindling.
His hair is a bit messy from a long day of travel.
He has shorts on despite the cold cut of the wind across the lake, because of course he does.
If you see Wyatt in a pair of pants, it’s probably snowmageddon.
I’ve noticed you can always spot a Wisconsin native in the winter because they’ll have just jeans and a hoodie on when it’s literally snowing.
“There she is.” He sweet talks the fire into burning just like he can sweet talk me into glowing under his hands.
He stands from where he was kneeling and sits in the chair next to me.
Why do I have such vivid images of me sitting on his lap as the fire dies down?
Why am I questioning it? This is my last weekend as his fake girlfriend.
I’ve already decided I’m going to cut off the sex when we get home.
I don’t want my heart involved with this any more than it already is, but I’ve got to enjoy it while I still can.
I stand quickly before I can decide against it. Then I’m just a statue in the sand. Wyatt looks at me. “What’s up? Don’t tell me you have to pee already, we just got here.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that. I just…”
Like he has for the last eight years, Wyatt reads me. “What do you want?”
I take a step closer to him. I can’t help but lick my lips as I eye his lap.
Huge thighs spread easily in his canvas chair.
The perfect place to perch. It’s so nice to be with someone who towers over me.
I never thought I’d find that at six-foot-one.
Like I can sit on his lap and not feel like a monster on the hill.
I take another step. When I put my hand on his thigh, he looks up at me from his seat. I don’t let myself think any more, I just turn and settle myself. I can feel his entire body go stiff under me.
Wyatt immediately recovers, putting a hand around my waist and leaning me back against his chest. Together we relax on the chair, alternating watching the flames dance and the waves roll.
I want to enjoy the peace and serenity of this moment, but something from dinner is still on my mind. “Why don’t you tell your parents the truth?”
He takes a moment, sitting very still behind me, and I know he’s thinking about what might happen if he did tell them. “Everyone loves Clark.”
“Okay, and…?”
He sucks in a deep breath. “You lived in Wisconsin for four years. You know what it’s like here. They worship him like a hero.”
“I mean a Super Bowl win, four MVPs, super high passer rating…” I list off Clark’s stats.
“That’s exactly what I mean. Fifteen seasons with Green Bay and he only managed one Super Bowl win, but he made sure he got those four MVPs.
And don’t forget his many commercials. He took care of himself.
Then all but a few years he choked in the playoffs.
” I can feel him shaking his head behind me.
“That’s not what this is really about. He’s a good quarterback.
There’s no arguing that. It’s about what he was like all the rest of the time. ”
“I’ve heard not great things.”
“He would teach the receivers different hand signals than what the coach taught.” He ticks his fingers as he rattles off examples. “He’s a drama queen. He’s never in the wrong. If the pass is incomplete, it’s because the other guy wasn’t in the right spot.”
I tap my finger to my chin, thinking. “Makes sense why you see a lot of shots of him pouting on the bench when you’re losing.”
“And that’s what he lets the cameras see. You know how bad it got.”
“But they’re your parents.”
“You’ve seen their certificate of ownership over the fireplace.
They put me on a waitlist for season tickets before I was even born.
They’re hardcore. And besides, even if I told them, and even if they understood, they would feel obligated to tell everyone else the truth if they asked.
I don’t want to put my parents in a position where they have to repeat negative things to every family member.
Not to mention, this is a small-ass town.
The employees at the bank and the bakery and the Pig Wig and the ladies at the church all want to know.
I don’t want my parents to have to explain their son’s actions as the hot topic of gossip. It’s better this way.”
“What about what’s better for you?”
He looks at me genuinely confused. “What about me?”
“You’re so busy saving your parents and your community from the negativity of Clark…who is saving you?”
He looks at me with so much intensity, I may as well be naked right here on this beach.
It’s like he’s seeing every inch of me bared to him.
It sends shivers down my spine that cause me to wriggle in his lap, and he takes in a sharp breath at the sensation.
Without thinking, I sit up, turn, and kiss him on the cheek.
The touch is so intimate that it warms me from the inside out.
I start to turn to look back at the fire, but Wyatt catches my mouth in a kiss.
He deepens it quickly, bringing our lips together over and over in a rhythm that matches the waves on the shore.
I haven’t enjoyed making out in years. It always felt like the means to an end.
Getting through the kissing so we can get to the sex, but this is different.
I feel like a teenager again—when I could make out for hours and never get bored of it.
I could sit here on this beach all night kissing Wyatt, being kissed by Wyatt.
Giving and taking in equal measure without a word between us.
When I start to feel him harden under me, I know I want him right now.
It’s plenty secluded with no sign of any boat on the water.
I go for the waistband of his shorts. He grabs my hands and keeps them still. “You want to do this right here on the beach?”
A knowing smile splits my face. “Just the tip…” I start our familiar call and refrain. An inside joke that started from some stupid movie we watched, and we’ve carried with us all this time.
His pupils are blown wide, and I know he wants this, too. He responds, and what is usually playful and joking turns into a plea. “Just for a second.”
“Just to see how it feels,” I agree. The blanket covering my legs from the lake breeze fell to the ground when I turned in Wyatt’s lap. I move to pick it up off the ground and lay it out in front of the fire for us. I turn and take Wyatt’s hands and pull him with me down on the blanket.
I don’t think it’s the flames from the fire fucking with me, I think there’s actually heat in his eyes as he lays out his long body next to mine. And I’m ready to get burned.