Page 35 of Best of Me

Nate: You love me. Hey! Maybe if you shoot a hole-in-one, she’ll let you score?

Me: I’m requesting a partner change first thing tomorrow.

I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to take my mind off of the reality of the situation—that I’m taking my dead girlfriend’s twin sister on a date. So, as obnoxious as he’s being, I appreciate the levity his particular brand of humor brings.

I roll up to Mallory’s at eleven on the dot to find her standing on the porch waiting for me, decked out in some sheer teal kimono-looking thing over a pair of frayed daisy dukes, a white tank top, with white Chucks on her feet. Her hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and visions of it wrapped around my fist as I pound into her from behind assault my mind.

She heads down the steps and toward my old truck, a wide smile painted across her kissable lips, and I swear, the sun pales in comparison. The passenger door sticks a little as she pulls on the handle. She tries again, this time throwing her weight into it, and the door pops open, causing her to stumble back a few steps.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“One hundred percent. Don’t even worry about it.” She emphasizes her words with a pat to my leg, and before I know it, I’ve clasped her hand in mine. I don’t let go until we reach our destination.

When Mallory sees where we are, she does this little cute-as-hell wiggle in her seat. “I’ve been wanting to check this place out!”

I shoot her a cocky wink. “I aim to please.”

She rolls her eyes and hops out of the truck. “C’mon, I’m starving!”

We meet at the front of the truck, and I take her hand in mine again, the movement as natural as breathing. We step inside the building and my mouth immediately starts to water when the scent of sizzling grease and toasted bread hits us.

At the counter, we both order cheeseburgers with fries and shakes—chocolate peanut butter for me and mint-chip for her—before claiming a seat near the door. Not five minutes later, our number is called, and I run up to the counter to retrieve our order. Mallory’s eyes widen to the size of saucers when she sees the amount of food. I guess I should’ve warned her that one burger alone can practically feed a family of four. Okay, so I’m exaggerating—but only slightly.

Mallory only finishes half of her burger, but my God, watching her eat it might just be one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. Seriously, she puts that old Carl’s Jr commercial with Kim K. to shame. After her last bite, she licks a gob of ketchup off her finger, moaning at the taste. “This might be the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“Good,” I murmur, discreetly reaching beneath the table to adjust myself. I can’t say watching someone eat has ever turned me on before, but I’m finding Mallory calls forth a whole host of emotions I’ve never felt, which is all kinds of shocking since I was in love with her sister for over a decade. “You ready for me to kick your ass in some putt-putt?”

Her eyes twinkle as she scoffs. “As if. It’s a well-kept secret, but I’m a mini-golf champ. I’m talking pro-levels, Masters worthy, Tiger-Tiger-Woods-y’all good.”

I stare at her for a beat with a goofy smile plastered on my face before we both crack up laughing. “All right, Cricket, let’s drive over and you can show me what you got.”

The drive to the mini-golf place is less than five minutes, and as it turns out, Mallory wasn’t joking—she’s damn good. By hole nine, she’s hit three hole-in-ones, whereas I’m so far over par it’s not even funny. I don’t care though, because even though she’s absolutely kicking my ass, I’m having the time of my life.

At hole thirteen, she takes pity on me. “Do you want me to show you how to line up your shot and stuff?”

I appraise all five-foot-seven of her, wondering how on earth she plans to show me. I don’t mind losing to her; not with the way she’s smiling and carrying on, doing little finger-guns after every shot like she’s Shooter McGavin. I say yes simply to see how she plans to show me.

She pockets her neon pink ball and nudges me out of the way. “First things first,” she says, demonstrating the proper way to grip the club. Once I’ve mastered that, Mallory moves on to my posture. “Keep your feet parallel to the hole. Bend your knees. No, not that much. Good!”

Mallory tries explaining how to read the slope, but it’s a lost cause. God bless her though—she has the patience of a saint; even going as far as dropping to her knees to show me. My concentration goes to shit when I see her practically kneeling before me, my mind swimming with all kinds of dirty thoughts. “Duke, are you listening?” she asks, looking up at me from beneath her long lashes.

I shake my head. “Nope, not at all.” I reach for her and wrap my hand around her ponytail, just the way I envisioned when I picked her up. Only now I’m imagining guiding her movements in a whole other way, and judging from the way Mallory’s eyeing the bulge in my shorts, she knows it.

“Moving on then,” she mutters, springing back to her feet. She works with me on my stroke, but the only thing I’m interested in stroking right now is my dick.She truly has to have cast some kind of spell on me—it’s the only plausible explanation I can think of for wanting to haul her behind the gigantic windmill on hole sixteen and have my way with her.With Val, I never would’ve eventhoughtabout doing something so naughty in public, but Mallory seems to bring all of my baser, more caveman instincts to life. It’s like my brain knows wanting her is wrong, but every single square inch of my body is shouting, “Her! Mine!”

“The trick is not to lift your head after you take your shot. You want to hear it go in, not see it.”

Before I can register her meaning, I say, “Bull. I damn sure wanna watch it go in.”

“Uh…um…” Mallory sputters, and I swear to God, my cheeks have to be as red as a tomato.Like I said, baser instincts.

We make it through the last five holes without incident, even if I do linger at sixteen a little longer than necessary. All in all, today’s been crazy good; the most fun I’ve had in a long,longtime.

The drive to Mallory’s is spent with the windows down and the radio up. When I pull up to her house, I step out and come around to open her door, helping her down from the truck.

I walk her up the steps to the front door. “I had fun today, Cricket.”

She shoots me a lazy grin. “I did, too. Do you…um…want to get together again sometime?”

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