Tomorrow is the annual Pro-Am charity tournament at Vista Palms. It’s a huge event with some of the world’s most renowned golfers, both current and retired, and they all come together to play against an amateur golfer. The pros pledge their money to a charity of their choice, and the amateurs get to keep whatever they win. It’s never serious, and it’s a lot of fun. But as I stare at Brookes’ message, I can’t help but shake my head again, because what? I know Max is playing in the tournament, but I thought Brookes had a replacement for the day.
Me: I thought your trainer was going to caddy for you.
Brookes: His needy-ass wife went into labor two weeks early. So inconsiderate…
I can’t help but laugh at his sarcasm.
Me: I guess I can give it a go…
Brookes: One rule though.
Me: Oh, God… what?
Brookes: You have to do exactly what I say. No ifs, buts, or coconuts.
Me: You’re the boss.
Brookes: Atta girl.
“Well now, if that’s not the face of thoroughly fucked woman!!”
Snapping my head up from my phone, I look up to find Lori sashaying up the sidewalk toward me, her smirk knowing.
“Lori!” I chastise her inappropriate wordsandtone, blanching when the woman walking past offers a scoff of disgust.
“Hi, honey!” Lori ignores my reaction, wrapping me in a big hug as I stand from the bench.
“I’d ask how Texas was but I can tell by the glow.” She waves a hand in front of me, winking salaciously.
I roll my eyes suddenly regretting asking her to meet me for another shopping trip. But I’m flying out to Puerto Rico over the weekend with Brookes to attend his friends’ wedding, and I have nothing suitable to wear. Hell, I’ve never even been to a wedding. When my mother remarried, she and her husband eloped, surprising us all when they returned home sharing a last name.
“Come on, baby girl,” Lori links her arm through mine. “Junie Bug’s waiting for us.”
I tuck my phone back into the pocket of my jean shorts and allow Lori to lead me up the sidewalk to June’s boutique.
By the time I make it back to the house, I’m exhausted, both physically and mentally. I love Lori and June—they’re a whole-ass vibe, especially when they’re together, feeding off one another’s extra-ness—but right now my head is killing me.
As I pull into the garage, Brookes’ Bronco is still missing from its usual parking spot. I had planned on getting a start on constructing my latest earring design, but I think instead, I might take a long hot shower, throw on some ugly sweats, and rot in front of the television.
I unload my shopping haul from the back of the Range Rover and struggle to carry all the bags inside because screw making more than one trip, but when I make it through the door, I notice a box sitting on the hall table next to the entryway, and it’s addressed to me.Weird. Aside from Brookes, Cam, and Blake, no one even knows I’m living here.
Cautiously, I pick up the box and carry it and my bags through to my room where I spend at least half an hour carefully unpacking everything I bought today for Puerto Rico with Lori and June’s help, hanging it all in the closet. Then, glancing at the box I placed on the coffee table, I pull my phone from the back pocket of my shorts.
Me: I got something delivered here today… but no one knows where I live.
Brookes’ response comes through in less than three seconds.
Brookes: I know where you live
I quirk a brow.
Me: Did you have it sent to me?
Brookes: Did you open it?
Me: No, I was scared it might be a decapitated horse head, sent by one of your deranged fans.
Brookes: Bit dramatic.
