Page 31 of The Sweet Spot

My fingers dance beside me, drawing her attention, but she refuses to look. The tension between us has absolutely nothing to do with golf, and I'm sure we are both extremely aware of it.

She opens her mouth.

“Callahan.” Max appears at my shoulder.

Whit steps back, smooths down her skirt again, and pretends nothing happened.

The moment is gone, but not my thought process behind it.

We won because of that moment.

“Brennon. Sorry about that minor blip in judgement earlier. Didn’t mean to yell,” I say.

“No problem, man. Good game.”

“Thanks,” I mutter, pulling him into a bro hug. Max and I have been through too much over the years to let a little game of golf get between us. “You played great.”

“Yeah, well, I'd appreciate you taking the energy you got from the tenth and bringing it to our next game post All-Star Break. You were on fire.”

“It was very impressive,” Jess interjects as she leans against Max. “You even managed to calm Whit down.” She tilts her head. “Let me in on the secret. What did you do?”

She knows.

I made sure to drive us far away enough that no one could hear us, so she must be just basing this on Whit’s actions.

“We had a heated discussion. That's all,” Whit answers for us, putting to bed any further conversation.

Jess puffs out an amused breath. “Give me that kind of heated discussion, please.”

“Drinks?” Max asks. “After the TV interviews?”

“Sure,” I say.

“I can't—” Whit says at the same time. We all watch her, waiting for an explanation. Her eyes widen and her mouth opens a few times while she thinks up an excuse. Whit's a terrible liar, which is funny considering how controlled she is about everything else in her life.

“My agent's been calling all day about a scheduling thing that I need to deal with tonight.” She gives a vague hand gesture. “You guys go. Have fun, and I’ll be there tomorrow at the dinner.”

Her gaze sweeps over the group until it lands on me, but she doesn’t say a thing.

Before I can stop her, she’s walking away, that catfish skirt taunting me as it flits in the air.

Jess tilts her sunglasses down and gives me a long look. I give her nothing. She pushes them back up.

Max watches the clubhouse door swing shut and frowns. “What's wrong with her?”

I look down at my right hand.

“No idea,” I say. Luckily for her, I'm a better liar.

Eighteen holes tomorrow. If we want to win this tournament, we've got to do just as well, if not better.

I've found a formula that works. Now I just need to convince Whit it works too.

Chapter 7

“You’re so fucking tight,” JB growls against my ear as his weight pins me against the sheets.

My cheek is smashed into the pillow, and my lips are parted as I fight to stay quiet. He’s got me exactly where he wants me: ass up, with my legs spread wide open for him. I’m completely at his mercy, and I've never felt more alive.