I’m going to blame my evening with Dominus for this new, unsettling side of me—
“Sutton,” Max says, his voice low enough that only I can hear him.
I blink, bringing him back into focus.
“It has taken every last ounce of my will power to stand back and watch that asshole put his hands on you all goddamn morning. And now I’m all out of restraint. Please get into the cart so we can go have some lunch.”
“Well,” I begin, “if you were bothered by it, imagine howIfeel.” I raise my eyebrows and motion toward the tee. “Now if you don’t mind, I would like to play these last two holes without some random man’s hands all over me.”
A muscle in his jaw twitches as he considers my words, then he finally shakes his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
I finally allow my smile to burst free. “Only if you don’t get out of my way.”
Chapter Fifteen
Max
Shortly after the Garrisons left, Sutton’s cousin, Gray, and the girls decided they were over the game, leaving us to finish the round on foot. Which is fine by me; I could use the time to blow off some steam. We both have miserable scores, but I stopped counting and I’m really just here so she can play through.
I walk beside Sutton to the final hole, both golf bags slung over my shoulders because even though my stubborn girl insisted she could carry her own golf bag, she was unable to pry it from my shoulder.
I’ll take my small victories where I can get them.
She hasn’t said a word to me since the others left, but she side-eyes me as we walk and I know her well enough to know that something’s on her mind.
“Out with it,” I say as we reach the eighteenth hole.
Sutton sighs. “Okay, listen, I don’t like men who act like boys, and I really don’t appreciate caveman behavior.”
I cock an eyebrow.
She takes off her sunglasses, so I do the same, instantly locked in those gorgeous amber eyes of hers.
“But I appreciate what you did for me back there.”
My eyebrows creep slowly up my forehead.
Is this a Sutton Hart thank you?
Sutton’s eyes narrow like she’s reading my thoughts. “So… I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you.”
My lips quirk up into a smirk. “That looked painful. You good?”
“Oh my god.” She rolls her eyes, then motions for me to drop her bag so she can grab a club. “You’re insufferable.”
“Perhaps.”
She selects a club and strides for the tee box, her mini-skort doing incredible things for her ass. Normally, I’d try to be less of a caveman, but I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her plump rear end and those smooth legs all damn day. And now that Bumper Garrison isn’t blocking the view or pissing me right the hell off, I drink in my fill.
She lines up for the shot, pulling the club back over her shoulders—
“You need any help with that swing?” I call out.
Thwack!
She shanks the ball and it flies toward the clubhouse.
I grimace, watching it hurtle toward the restaurant’s patio filled with people, but it lands in a duck pond just to the side of the terrace with a splash that sends three mallards flying, drawing the attention of the nearby diners.
