I smirked, ignoring her calling me by my full name. I knew she could easily throw me under the bus, but I also knew sheneverwould if only to save herself from having to explain to our friends what the hell we’d been doing the last several months.
Chapter 22
I hadmy feet propped up on the dash of the golf cart, sitting beneath the shade of a tree near the green of hole nine with a White Claw in my hand. I didn’t play golf—I thought the game was boring as hell—but my brothers did.
Brody came into town for a long weekend while his new bride was on a girls’ trip with her sister and mom. When he and Wyatt told me they were going to Briarcliff Golf Course that morning, I invited myself along. I liked driving the carts, so I offered to be their chauffeur to spend time with them and to get out of spending my Sunday sitting around my apartment doing nothing.
After finishing hole nine, I watched them walk back toward me, and I dropped my feet and started up the cart. “Ya know, I could get used to this,” Wyatt said as he sat beside me.
“As long as she doesn’t crash,” Brody added as he took the back. “We both know what kind of driver she is.”
I pressed my foot on the pedal before he was entirely settled,jerking the cart forward and making him stumble off the back seat. “You little?—”
“Oops,” I deadpanned.
Wyatt chuckled. “Come on. Get on.”
Once Brody was back in his seat and holding on, I drove along the path toward the next hole. When we neared, we saw two guys just setting up their tees, so I slowed the cart to a stop and shut it off to wait for them to finish.
One swung and launched his ball, sending it too far to the right, and when the guy beside him laughed at the bad shot, I stiffened.
I knew that laugh.
The man turned, giving me a better view of his face, and sure enough, it was Wes.
He walked up to his tee and set the ball down, saying something to the guy he was with—I didn’t recognize him—before getting himself into a stance with his knees slightly bent, and his arms extended yet relaxed as he gripped the handle. When he swung, he sent the ball sailing in what I assumed to be an impressive shot based on Wyatt’s and Brody’s mutterings.
“Damn…did you see that?”
“I want to know what clubs he’s using.”
We watched as they slid their clubs back into their bags and hopped on their cart before driving off. I drove down the hill, stopping near the tee box, and Wyatt and Brody jumped off the cart.
“Looks like one of them dropped a towel,” Brody said, picking it up. He looked at the logo stitched on it and blew out a breath. “Shit. One of them has TaylorMade.”
Wyatt’s brow arched. “That explains a lot.”
I had no idea what the hell that meant, and before I couldask, Brody laughed as he tossed the towel, smacking me in the face with it. I knew exactly whose towel it was based on the lingering smoky amber and citrus scent that abruptly engulfed my senses.
Wes.
I looked down at where it plopped onto my lap. How did a damngolf towelsmell like him?
“Mind if I have that back?” I snapped my gaze up to see Wes standing on the other side of my cart, wearing a smirk. I rolled my eyes, tossing it to him, and he caught it with a chuckle. “Fancy running into you here, Princess. I didn’t know you golfed.”
“I don’t.”
“Friend of yours?” Brody asked curiously, probably from hearing the stupid nickname.
I glanced at Wes, seeing him smirk before I looked back at my brother. “No.” We weren’t friends. We were just fucking, but I couldn’t saythat.
Wes laughed with a subtle shake of his head before extending his hand toward Brody. “Wes Callahan. We have mutual friends.”
Wyatt snapped his finger. “You’re the lawyer…the one that helped Callie.”
Wes nodded. “That’s me.”
“She said a lot of good things about you.”
