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I hear them giggling, but block out their conversation as they follow me out. There’s a feeling swirling in the pit of my stomach but for some reason, I can’t place what it is. Maybe I’m just hungry.

“Here you are,” Rosie says, gesturing to the table. We sit and she places the menus in front of us.

“Oh, could we get two Manhattans, please?” Ezra stops Rosie with a gentle but firm grip on her wrist.

I grit my teeth and look away from her awestruck expression. Fuck. I think I know this feeling. Am I jealous? Certainly not of Ezra, since Rosie isn’t even my type. I think I might be jealous of the easy way he flirts with her. It’s so open and genuine and I—I can’t do that.

“Drinking before practice?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest and leaning back in the chair once she leaves.

“Please, today is a friendly scramble. Tomorrow the real work begins.” He relaxes back in his own chair, looking out at the expanse of the course.

It’s a warm and sunny day, perfect for a round of golf. We sit in silence for a bit, watching the clouds move across the sky. A few staff members nod and wave as they walk by, and I return the gesture.

“Something’s different about you,” Ezra says, his blue eyes assessing.

I squirm in my seat and drop my arms from my chest. Rosie saves me from giving him a retort.

“I’ve got your drinks and some water for you, gents. Shall I put a food order in?” She sets the drinks down and pulls out a small notepad. Her eyes are glued to Ezra. I track their movement as they roam over his hair, face, and broad shoulders.

He reaches up and pops open another button on the collar of his dusty blue polo. Rosie’s throat bobs on a swallow.

I scoff, masking it with a cough when Ezra glares at me, but it brings Rosie out of whatever lust-induced trance she was in.

“What’ll it be?”

“I’ll have a Cobb salad,” I say, handing her the menu without even looking at it.

“Boring,” Ezra mutters. “I’ll have the pickle potato flatbread.”

“Great choice,” she coos.

Ezra winks at her and watches her leave.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“What?” he says innocently.

My eyes narrow and I lean in, resting my elbows on the table. “Flirting, popping a button, checking her out…”

He shrugs, lips twitching with a smile. “I may have noticed her last time I was visiting you. Nothing happened,” he adds, taking a sip of his cocktail.

“But?” I ask, knowing for a fact there’s more.

“But now that I know she’s interested, maybe something will happen,” he says simply, tapping his fingers against the table.

I blow out a long breath. “Just—don’t piss off any of the staff here. I’m the one who needs to see them every day, and I don’t want any drama.”

“No drama, I promise,” he says, crossing his heart.

“And wash the sheets in the guest house before you leave.” I snicker.

“Please, you have Roxana coming every week to clean, I don’t have to do shit.”

Later, once we’ve eaten our lunch and finished a second Manhattan, Rosie brings us the check. Ezra doesn’t even need to ask for her number—it’s neatly written at the top of the receipt that she hands to him.

At least she’s making him pay.

CHAPTER FIVE