Page 53 of True Abandon

“Always.”

…

“I love you.”

“No, I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you more more.”

“You’re my stallion.”

“I can’t wait to get you back into our room.”

“Whoa! Getting handsy there, Mr. Waimer,” Shayna Waimer laugh-talks as she playfully swats her husband on the arm. She turns to Jax and me who are staring at them, dumbfounded. “He just pinched my butt. Can you believe him? This man.” She looks up into his eyes with a dreamy expression.

“Who are these people?” Jax asks out the side of his mouth while staring straight at them.

“They’re our partners this afternoon.” I, too, speak to Jax from the side of the smile plastered on my face as I look at Mark and Shayna Waimer outfitted in matching plaid shorts. She has on a tank top that says—you guessed it—“The Mrs.” emblazoned on the front, while he sports a teal Lacoste golf polo.

Jax turns to me, forcing me to face him. “I thought you said we were golfing?”

“We are.” I grin. “As a foursome.” I’m oddly proud of myself for today’s plan. The Wiamer’s are annoyingly affectionate, and they demand all of the attention in a room, therefore leaving no opportunity for Jax to manipulate the conversation in anyway—in other words, he won’t be able to talk about the past.

“I think I’d rather down a bottle of sriracha.”

“Tried that and you survived.” I pat him on the arm. “Today, you suffer a new kind of torture.”

“You’re cute when you’re plotting.”

With a pointed finger, I admonish, “Oh no. Don’t be nice.”

“When have I been mean?”

“Just…” My brain draws a blank. I hate being put on the spot. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”

“Another ‘gent to spend the morning kicking a ball along the greens with.” Mark extends a hand toward Jax.

“Are you British?” Jax asks.

Mark grimaces. “No. I just like to throw on an accent every now and then.”

Shayna grabs onto Mark’s bicep and adds, “Mark does the most adorable French impression. Do it for them, bae.”

Mark doesn’t miss a beat and immediately pouts his lip and lowers his brows. With a hand to his mouth like he’s smoking a cigarette, he says, “I cannot resist such a beautiful woman. I must have her in my bed at night.”

It is, quite possibly, the worst accent I’ve ever heard.

Shayna clearly thinks the opposite. “You are so sexy when you go Parisian.”

Mark leans his forehead against hers. “I can do more for you tonight when we are alone.”

“Oui, oui,” she breathes.

“Shall we get started?” I clap my hands to gain their attention.

I hop into the golf cart and turn the key. Before Jax has a chance to sit in the passenger seat, I call for Shayna to take it. As she slides in, I think I see a flash of disappointment on Jax’s face.