“Ballybeg? How big is it?”
How the fuck was I supposed to know?
“Population: half a sheep and a goat.”And a very sexy redhead.
Brad chuckled. “Perfect. Stay there. Lay low. You don’t have anything for at least six weeks.”
In six weeks, I had an appearance for a sponsor in London. I had thought of going home to Charleston because my friend Amara was pregnant, but maybe Icould stay here for a week or two, and then when Francia was done getting publicity, I could head home.
I leaned against the window and looked down at the faint glow of light spilling on the wet cobblestones as the sun hid behind another dark cloud. There were worse places to be stranded.
“I can’t stay here for six weeks,” I remarked. “I’ve got meetings with the shoe people in Dublin and those golf equipment guys in London. But…maybe for a week or two.”
I’d have to find a way to work out. Maybe I could run up and down those cliffs for cardio and find a gym of sorts to lift weights.
“Right, right,” Brad murmured, and I knew he was looking through my calendar. “Where exactly are you staying?”
“An inn above a pub.”
“Huh?”
I grinned.
I looked around the room again. It was surprisingly nice. I had checked the bathroom, and it had a clawfoot tub and heated floors. What more could a man ask for?
“It’s not a five-star hotel, Brad. But the owner of the pub said she’d leave a chocolate on my pillow if I was good.” I smiled when I thought about Dee.
“Jax, you feelin’ okay?”
“‘Course.”
“You made a fuss last time because your room smelled funny.”
That was at a resort in Florida. “That was because the guy next door was smoking cigars, and my roomwassmelling funny!Andit wasn’t ha-ha funny, more bringing on an asthma attack hilarious,andI don’t even have asthma.”
“Okay, stay at…Bally, what the hell ever! I’m guessing there are no supermodels there?”
“You’d be guessing right.” However, Dee was way classier and sexier than Francia could ever dream of being.
“I’ll deal with the fallout here.”
“You’ll deal with fuck all, Brad. The story will die down. It always does. Francia gets a few minutes of attention, and then we can all return to our regular programming.”
Which was what for me?I had no idea anymore.
I was a professional golfer who had enough family wealth that I didn’t need to work for a living, which was why I didn’t give a shit if my sponsorships were jeopardized.
After ending my call with Brad, I felt strangely light.
It wasn’t like I never took time off. I did. I wasn’t one of those people who believed in killing themselves for a paycheck by working all the time.
I knew players who were either training or doing photo and film shoots for ads or whatever, or doing PR, or playing whatever pro game was their poison.
I was not one of them.
I didn’t need more money.
I played golf because I loved it.
