Silence follows that statement and I don’t have to look at the two women in the backseat to realize they hoped thisfoursomemight go further than a round of charity golf.
But Sutton was more on point than she realized. Iamspoken for.
She just hasn’t accepted the fact that she’s the lucky lady yet.
Coming up to the turn, I’m seven over par, which isn’t my best score by a longshot, but I’ve been distracted. At least my ball hasn’t landed in the drink like the brunette in our foursome. I was under the impression Gray paired us up with these two because they could actually play, but now I’m thinking he just liked the way they looked.
Fair enough, but I imagine that’s Sasha who’s been blowing up his phone all morning, and by the looks of things, she’s not happy about something. I haven’t been posting pics or anything, but at a tourney of this size, anyone else could have.
Gray grunts and I look over at him as I crack open a cold beer. “All good?”
He scowls at his cell, then opens the little glove box and tosses the device inside. Shooting me a glare, he snaps, “Don’t ask.”
Laughing, I raise my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Another grunt is the response I get, but then he narrows his eyes at something past me. “You gonna step in?” He jerks his head toward the eighth hole and I follow his gaze as Bumper positions himself behind Sutton, wrapping his arms around her to help her with her swing.
Again
My jaw clenches, but I shake my head. “The dude’s a golf pro.”
Gray snorts. “He’s also recently divorced.”
My teeth grind.
“Good looking guy. Successful. On the rebound.”
I bite back a grunt. “I can’t just walk onto the tee box and interfere. I’ll look like an idiot.”
Gray says nothing, just turns and walks to the back of the cart to grab his flask out of his golf bag, leaving me to watch as Bumper gets up close and personal with my girl.
Garrison finally steps back and she swings, knocking the ball with a newfound confidence I haven’t seen in the first seven holes. I follow the ball as it soars through the air and lands in the fairway, a straight, beautiful shot. I whistle loudly and all eyes swivel toward me.
“You know we’re not on the same team as them, right?” one of the girls whispers, and they both giggle.
“Nice shot,” I say to Sutton as she strides back toward us.
She grins, then looks at Garrison. “I have a good teacher.”
Oh hell no.
They climb into the cart, and off they go.
Biting back a growl of frustration, I grab my ball and my 9-iron, then stride onto the tee box, lining myself up for the shot. It’s a par 3 with a hundred-forty-five-yard stretch. A straight shot down the fairway. Should be easy enough.
I swing the iron a few times, then lift it back behind my head and get ready to drive the ball home—
Familiar laughter carries to me on the breeze and I look up ahead as I swing, losing concentration because what could Bumper have possibly said that wassofunny?
Thecrackof the club against the ball reminds me of what I’m doing and I snap back to it as my ball careens far and wide, arcing to the left.
It smacks into the roof of Sutton’s golf cart with a loud, hollowthwack, then bounces off, nearly hitting Bumper in the head as he climbs out.
Gray snorts. “Nicely done.”
Bumper throws his hands up in the air. I wince and offer up a wave, then laugh when I realize my ball bounced off their cart and landed on the green. If I’m lucky, that’ll be one stroke to the hole, bringing my score down to six over par.
“Guess that’s one way to get her attention.”
