10. Kayla
10 KAYLA
I’m famous. Not for the lives I’ve saved. Not for the hard work I’ve done to become a damn good doctor. Not even because I saved someone famous, important, or influential. Nope, I’m famous because I’m sleeping with someone famous. Ain’t that just a slap in the face?
I felt like every underappreciated woman throughout history, famous not for my own accomplishments but because I was close to someone else who’d achieved a lot. I couldn’t even be mad at Mac because it wasn’t his fault; this was his life, and a part of it he seemed to really dislike. So I was just mad, with nowhere to aim that anger. Still, I had a job to do, so I plastered on a smile and kept my head down as I went about my workday.
That was easier said than done since all of Holiday Grove was talking about those photos. Several older residents came into the ER with feigned problems just to ask questions about me and my “rockstar beau,” as he was now known. I got it; I really did. As soon as Mac had left my place, I pulled up the photos and stared at them for far too long.
They were hot.
Like, next-level hot. Like end-of-movie-kiss hot.
Too bad the comments on the photos were enough to make even the most confident woman crawl under the covers never to emerge again. They were awful—the comments about my weight, my looks, and my lack of style were bad enough, but they accused me of being a gold digger. They said I was lying about being a doctor just to manipulate Mac into my bed. It was all too much, so for the past twenty-four hours, I had been avoiding online news and social media.
And Mac.
I finished my shift and went straight home for the past few days, terrified to even glance next door, where the strains of beautiful songs filtered through the living room window. I couldn’t ignore him, not with us being neighbors, but I could avoid him. That all ended today because the Beer Pong competition was tonight, and I couldn’t blow it off. I wouldn’t. I made a commitment, and I wouldn’t shirk it simply because the internet was sometimes a hellscape of wickedness.
As soon as my shift was over, I rushed home and ate a salad before changing. What does one wear to a Pong competition anyway? I had no clue, and I wasn’t in the mood for a group chat, so I grabbed a t-shirt and the first pair of jeans I spotted and put them on. It wasn’t sexy, but it wasn’t a potato sack either, so I gave myself one quick look in the mirror and headed to the community center.
I stopped just inside the gymnasium where the competition was being held and stared. The place was packed—so packed they’d pulled out the bleachers to make room for more spectators. My heart raced at the thought of such a huge audience. I expected a couple dozen people, but there were at least a hundred already here. Holiday Grove was known for coming out and supporting events, but this was a lot.
It’s okay, Kayla. You’re okay. I shook my hands to dispel the lingering nerves and walked over to the sign-in table to register and get our team balls. A sign that read “Team Green” sat on one of the tables, and I made my way over there and waited. There was no getting around it; tonight, avoiding Mac was over.
We were in this together, no matter what.
Half a dozen photographers walked in, and a hush fell over the noisy gym. Seconds later, it was clear why, as the doors opened and Mac strolled in, wearing a beaming smile and a sleeveless t-shirt that said, “I’m with Dr. Hottie.” He stopped and looked around the gym as if searching for something, but when his gaze landed on mine and he hit me with a sexy-as-hell grin, my heart stopped.
Holy hell, was he hot! The man knew how to wear a pair of jeans, and with his arms—and tattoos—on full display, he looked every inch the bad boy rocker. But that smile? It was one hundred percent boy next door. My chest tightened, and heat rushed over every inch of my skin as Mac held my gaze until he stood less than a foot from me. “Mac, hey.”
He wiggled his brows. “Hey babe. Done ignoring me?”
I nodded and folded my arms, working hard to keep my smile from breaking free. “Seems so. Mad about it?”
“Nah,” he shook his head in that carefree way of his. “Hurt. Disappointed, but not mad. I missed you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I missed you too. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t you, but the comments online,” I let the comment go because there was no point in finishing it.
“Yeah, keyboard warriors are the fucking worst. They all need a solid ass-kicking in person.”
“Agreed.” Now that the air was clear, I felt better. “Ready to drink your weight in green beer?”
He patted what I knew to be six-pack abs and nodded. “I ate a Reuben sandwich before I came here to soak up some of the better.” He leaned in with that devilish smile. “Don’t worry, I brushed my teeth, so you don’t have to worry about sauerkraut kisses.”
I laid a hand on his chest and patted it as I batted my eyelashes up at him. “Such a thoughtful Pong partner.”
“Right? Lucky you.” He flung his arm around me casually and looked around the room. “I think we got this. Unless you really are a secret lightweight.”
“Only one way to find out. Get our Pong on!” It felt good to smile and laugh with Mac, or maybe it was the alcohol. Whatever it was, I felt more relaxed and happier as the tournament moved forward. Mac’s casual touches—an arm brush here or his big hand spread low on my back—were enough to remind me of just how fantastic things were between us that night. And that morning. And even after breakfast.
“Nice shot, Doc!” He wrapped his big, bare arms around me; his masculine scent enveloped me as much as his arms. “Fuck, you smell good.” His words were a low growl in my ear that sent a thunderbolt of a shiver down my spine.
I looked up at him and batted my eyelashes. “And I thought that was you.”
Heat blazed in his eyes. “Wicked woman. Let’s win this thing.”
We won the first two games easily and ended up drinking less than a cup of the surprisingly disgusting lukewarm beer. The third game was more challenging, mostly because our opponents were a couple of guys less than six months out of college. We managed to squeeze out a win, but I was tipsy and in need of biscuits. Or fries. Or something carb-y and greasy.
“Okay, let’s take a ten-minute break before the final two rounds!” The mayor’s smile was big, and her eyes sparkled. She was in her element, keeping Holiday Grove fun and quirky.
We barely made it five feet from the table before Mac stopped me, tucked a lock of hair behind my ear, and ran his thumb along my jaw. “How you holding up?”
“Good, thanks. You?”
“Great.” His gaze was fixed on my mouth, which made the urge to flick out my tongue and moisten them stronger. He groaned when I did and leaned forward to press his forehead to mine. “Are you trying to make me spring a boner in the Holiday Grove Community Center?”
I gripped his biceps and laughed. “I’m not not trying to?”
He looked at me, and I swore I spotted a flash of affection in his gaze a nanosecond before his lips landed on mine. The kiss was slow and hot, not chaste—more like he was claiming me in front of the town, which was, well, I didn’t know, except the kiss was damn good, and I was just tipsy enough not to care and just greedy enough to slide my tongue along his, teasing him mercilessly. “We’re going to win this, and then I’m going to take you home and show you how much I’ve missed you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “And if we lose?”
“Same, only you can show me how much you missed me. Deal?” He held out his hand, and I took it, gasping when he brought it to his lips instead of shaking it.
“You are a charming menace. A danger to every woman with a working libido.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me,” Edith trawled, and when we pulled back, the older woman was standing a few feet away, staring at us while fanning her face with her hand. “Mine might be on the fritz, but she still works.”
“Tell me I didn’t just hear that,” Mac whispered in my ear.
“Edith, what’s in the bag?”
Her eyes lit up as if she had been waiting for someone to ask. “This ol’ bag? I’ve brought more green beer,” she said with a wink before walking off.
“I’m worried,” I told Mac.
“Me too, but I thrive in the unexpected.”
I was glad one of us did because when the tournament started back up, our opponents were Lee and Nix. The brothers were competitive as hell, but it didn’t matter after we each sank two balls into the other team’s cups. “Edith,” Nix called out. “This green beer tastes suspiciously like whiskey.”
The older woman shrugged, her smile completely unapologetic. “Weird. Must’ve gotten them mixed up in my old age.” She sent Mac a wink that had Lee accusing her of collusion.
“By getting me drunker faster?” Mac asked around a snort.
Lee glared at his brother and put his game face on. Not that it mattered; Nix was horrible at Pong, and Mac and I moved to the final round.
“How are you feeling?” Mac buried his fingers in my hair as the final table was prepped.
“Good, besides being closer to drunk than sober. Damn whiskey.”
His lips kicked into a lopsided grin. “You’re doing great, Doc. I promise.”
“Thank you, Mac. So are you.” I touched his face. His lips. His jaw. “I’m sorry for avoiding you.”
“I know. I’m sorry people are assholes.”
I smiled. “Me too, but you know it only makes me admire you more for putting up with it without losing your shit.”
His smile grew. “I am pretty impressive, aren’t I?”
I smacked his rock-hard abs, and we got in position for the final game, which we won after a long battle. My legs wobbled, but my heart was free, and my smile was big. “We won!”
His grin was blinding. “Hell yeah, we did!” Then Mac stepped closer, wrapped one arm around my waist, gripped the back of my head with the other hand, and kissed the hell out of me right there in front of half of Holiday Grove.
Photographers included.
“Damn, I must be the MVP to warrant a kiss like that.” I had to joke because that kiss was sweet and sensual, and it was making me start to feel some very real things for my rock star neighbor and sometimes booty call.
Mac shook his head. “That kiss was just for me. The next one is just for you.” The heat and the promise in his eyes were unmistakable.
All I felt was white-hot anticipation.