Who break out into a round of applause.
When my eyes return to Sutton, she’s staring daggers at me, hands on her hips.
“Close one,” I say, pretending to swipe sweat off my forehead.
Trying to hide my smile, I grab our bags and follow her as she stalks off toward the clubhouse.
By the time we’ve checked-in with tournament organizers, dropped our clubs off in the locker room, and returned to the restaurant, the place is packed with Sunday brunchers. We spot Anderson, Gray, and the two girls he brought along for the game sitting around a table in the back corner.
Only one empty chair remains.
Sutton shakes her head as she looks over at me. “Looks like you’re going to have to wait for a table.”
She strides off toward our group and I follow closely behind.
I’m not that easy to get rid of; she should know that by now.
She plops down into the last remaining chair, and I scan the room for another option, then just squat between her and her cousin.
“Max,” Sutton says. “Be serious.”
“Hm? About what?”
“You can’t sit like that for the entire meal.”
I look around, then down at my lap and pat my thighs. “I have strong legs.”
Sutton’s chest rises on a deep breath, then she waves a dismissive hand at me. “Suit yourself.”
Across the table, one of the women leans toward Gray and whispers, “Is that her?”
Gray snorts. “The one and only.”
Beside me, Sutton shifts in her seat, then swivels her head toward me. “Care to explain?”
I flash her a smile and her lips twitch. “Gray told them I’m in love with you.”
She sighs. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Sutton pushes her seat back and stands. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”
I start to rise to my feet but she shoots me a glare. “Alone.”
Forcing a pout, I wait for her to reach the bar before settling into her vacated seat.
One of the women whispers to her friend, then looks at me. “I don’t think she likes you.”
Gray and Anderson both snort, and I take the latter’s response as areallygood sign.
Grinning, I stretch my arms and lean back in the chair. “She’ll come around.”
Chapter Sixteen
Sutton
It’s not the fact that Max insists on crouching beside me while we eat that has me on edge, sweating even inside the air-conditioned dining room.
It’s not even the fact that he stares at me far more than he acknowledges the other people at our table.
It’s the fact that with him beside me, I can think of little else.
