“Congrats,” Keith says and offers his fist for me to bump. The rest of the guys offer their similar praise.
“Thanks, guys.”
Abby links her arm through mine. “Celebratory dinner, or are you planning to go back to the room to work with your hottie swing coach all night?”
“Hottie?” Smith questions with enough jealousy in his tone that we all laugh.
“We’ll celebrate tomorrow if I win,” I say, nerves already ramping back up. “I wanna swing by my dad’s and tell him all about it. I’m sure he’s going crazy not being here.”
Abby hugs me one last time, and I say bye to the guys and thank them all for coming. I text Lincoln when I get to my car, but by the time I get a pizza and take it to dad’s house, he still hasn’t responded.
“Nice job, sweet pea.” Dad hugs me in the doorway with one arm, the other holding on to his cane. He’s getting around better, but I can tell by the way he hobbles that his knee still bugs him.
I babble on through an entire pizza, excitedly telling him every detail. He listens intently, smiling proudly.
“Did you call your mom? She’ll be dying to hear all about it too.”
“No, not yet. I came straight here. I haven’t even showered yet.”
“I thought I smelled something.” He winks. “Go, call her, and then get some rest. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“Thanks for reminding me. No pressure, right?”
He chuckles softly as I kiss him on the cheek. “Good luck tomorrow, kiddo, not that you need it.”
26
Lincoln
“It was amazing. I was in a zone like I’ve never been before. I hope I didn’t use all my awesomeness today.”
I smile as I lie back on the bed in Kenton’s spare room while Keira tells me about her day. She holds the phone out in front of her face, free hand waving wildly and smile so big it’s contagious. Getting to listen as she relives it is almost as good as it would have been to be there. Almost.
“Did your dad go?”
“No.” Her smile falls only slightly. “He still isn’t getting around that well, but I went by and told him about it after.”
She’s quiet for a second and then goes back to telling me about the tournament. “Oh, and you should have heard Coach this afternoon. One of the local news stations was there, and Potter walked up in the middle of my interview like he was my number-one fan. He told them, and I quote, ‘Keira’s made a lot of really solid improvements this season, and our hard work is finally paying off.’ Our hard work, like he had any part of it.”
“Potter’s a prick. He’s going to take every opportunity he can to make it about him. You did this. Not him.”
“We did this. You and me.”
“No. This was all you. No one made you get up day after day and put in the work. I’ve coached a lot of people, especially when I was just starting out. They’d tell me how bad they wanted it, they’d fork over thousands of dollars for lessons, but when push came to shove, they wouldn’t put in the work. So, no, we didn’t do this. It was all you. Own it. Enjoy it.”
She flops onto her bed, still holding the phone out so I can see her face. “Tell me about your day.”
“Spent it with my parents, got to watch Kenton play, and then he had a few people over after the game.”
“Did his team win?”
“Yep, it was a good day for both of you.”
She settles back against her headboard. “What are your parents like?”
“They’re cool. Dad was a high school history teacher and golf coach, and my mother worked in advertising. They retired a couple of years ago and primarily live in upstate New York. That’s where my mother’s from originally. I have a bunch of aunts and uncles out there.”
“Do you see them often?”
“They come back to Scottsdale every few months, and Kenton and I go up there for Christmas every year. It’s cold as fuck.” She covers a yawn as I talk. “I should let you get some sleep.”
“Fat chance of me sleeping tonight.” She yawns again. “Are you coming back early tomorrow?”
“No. Kenton has another game tomorrow, so we’re staying until just after it. I should be back to Arizona about the time you’re finishing the tournament. I’m sorry I’m gonna miss you kicking ass.”
“I understand.” The tone of her voice says that may not be entirely true.
“All right, baby, get some sleep.”
“Uh-uh. I wanna keep talking to you.”
“Close your eyes.”
Her brown, tired eyes widen in defiance.
“Just do it.”
She gets up from the bed and walks across her room. A second later, it darkens. “Fine, but if I fall asleep, promise me that you’ll hang up immediately. I don’t want you watching me drool or snore.” She makes a horrified face as she climbs back into bed and lies down, but then her long lashes flutter closed and fan out against her fair skin.
I turn on the television in my room to the sports channel and turn off the lamp on the nightstand.
“Are you going to tell me a bedtime story?”
I chuckle quietly. “Will it help you fall asleep?”
“Maybe.” She turns onto her side and opens her eyes briefly to position the phone on the bed next to her. The angle has the top of her head cut off but gives me an eyeful of the cleavage popping out of her tank top—a darkened eyeful, but still an eyeful. “Tell me about your first pro tournament.”
“You wanna talk golf right now?” I swear this girl never gets sick of the topic. She’s more hardcore than I am.
“Well, I’m too tired for phone sex, and golf is the next best thing.” Eyes still closed, her mouth tips into a sleepy smile.
Just the mention of sex makes my dick twitch, pleading with me to make her reconsider, sleep be damned. Ignoring the semi, I adjust myself with one hand and think back to my pro debut. “It was in Milwaukee. I’m sure I was scared shitless, but the only thing I can remember is how excited I was to be in the same place as guys I’d looked up to for so long—some my entire life.”
“You don’t look nervous in the videos and pictures online.”
Her having watched the footage makes me smile, but I’m not really surprised. I looked her up the same way.
“I don’t know. Maybe I was too dumb to be nervous. I don’t really think it struck me how big of a deal it was until after. It took years of effort to get to that point, and once I was there, all I could think about was proving myself. That need and desire to get to the next level never really goes away. The goalpost moves every time, and you have to learn to celebrate the small wins. Like today for you. No matter what happens tomorrow, today you proved to yourself that you can do it.”
“I really want to win tomorrow.”
“I know.” I close my eyes too. “Did you see that putt where I almost choked on the tap in?” I ask, still reminiscing about my debut tournament.
“Mm-hmm.” Her response comes on a hum.
“God, my heart was in my throat. It took three holes to calm down.”
“I couldn’t tell.”
“Well, I knew I couldn’t blow up and make a scene on my first day.”
“I also saw the tournament where you broke your driver over your knee.”
I groan. “Ah, man, I was really hoping you’d never know about that one.”
“It’s probably my favorite of all the videos I’ve watched of you.”
“Really? Why? It’s one of my worst rounds of golf ever.”
“Because I can see the passion on your face. People who aren’t dropping f-bombs or thinking of breaking their club while playing a round of golf are either having an incredible day or don’t care enough. That video shows how much you care. You were frustrated and you let it show, but then you pulled it together and had an incredible round the next day.”
“I had to after that.”
“Golf is a lot like love, I think. If it isn’t making you a little nuts, is it even real? Passion—good or bad,
is how you can gauge what’s really important to people.”
We both fall silent, and I contemplate her words. It isn’t an uncomfortable silence since the voices of the television provide white noise so we aren’t listening to each other breathe. Still, doing shit like this with anyone but Keira would be weird, but with her, everything feels normal.
I’m just about to drift off when I can sense she’s fallen asleep. I open my eyes to verify. There’s an ache in my chest as I stare at her parted lips and the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. After a few long moments, I move to end the call. “’Night, baby.”
The last update I got on the Valley tournament was an hour ago, and Keira had a two-stroke lead with four holes left.
Pacing back and forth at my flight gate, I’m refreshing the website for the millionth time for final scores when my boarding group is called. I head down the jet bridge with my overnight bag, phone still in hand. After I take my seat, I continue hitting refresh.
“I’m just there.” A man stands in the aisle and points to the empty window seat beside me. I stand, annoyed for the interference of hitting refresh, no matter how irrational it is, and let him pass.
The boarding process takes forever and every second delay in getting back to Arizona makes me more restless. I know I’m too late to make the tournament but I need to be back in the same state where I can comfort her, if needed.
I pray to God she won today, but if she didn’t, she’s going to need to talk it out. After the high of yesterday, a loss today would be brutal.
As the plane taxies down the runway, the flight attendant starts in on the in-flight safety procedures. I tune her out, hit refresh again, and freeze when the final tournament results load on my screen.
“She won,” I whisper. I stare at her name at the top of the final leaderboard. Pride fills my whole body. I look over to the guy next to me and repeat it. “She won.”
He smiles politely, clearly having no idea what I’m talking about. I show him my phone, and he humors me with a quick glance. “Keira, I mean my client won a golf tournament.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” I tip my head back against the seat and shake it from side to side in astonishment. She did it. She freaking won.
There’s a strange feeling as I sit there, heading up into the sky and a few hundred miles away from Keira. I’m so damn proud of her. Happiness tinged with regret for not being there to see the look on her face when she realized she’d done it. Not being the person she shared all of it with.
My life, my job, has always meant more to me than single moments like this. Even big moments. Hell, aside from the actual day my ex and I exchanged vows, I spent most of the days surrounding my wedding wondering why there had to be so many small celebrations involved. An engagement party, a bachelor party, dinner with the two families, a bridal shower, a rehearsal dinner, and on and on.
My job was always a point of contention with Lacey. The honest truth is that I worked harder at golf and then the business than I did at being a good husband. And while I have my regrets, I think I always knew that she and I would never work.
Selfish men don’t get a happily ever after. They might get a significant other who deals with always being second priority, but that knowledge comes at a price. Lacey wasn’t willing to pay it, not that I blame her, and I’m not willing to put anyone through that again. No one deserves that. Not Lacey and certainly not Keira.
I smile at the thought of Keira letting anyone put her second to anything. And then there’s that pang in my chest again because, for the first time, I realize it isn’t going to be me who walks away from Keira when we’re done working together, it’ll be her walking away from me. Because she deserves better, and she knows it.
27
Keira
Coming down off the high of my win today, I sit on my bed eating frosted animal crackers and watching Abby pack an overnight bag. Nothing like a post-celebration with a little sugar and bed crumbs.
“I’m heading to Smith’s,” she says, zipping her backpack and slinging it over one shoulder.
“Thanks for hanging out tonight.”
After the tournament, she and the guys took me to The Hideout to celebrate. I’d been too amped up to eat then, but now I’m starving. I’m also a little tipsy, which probably isn’t helping.
“Are you kidding me? There is no way I would have missed tonight. I’m so freaking proud of you.”
“Thank you.”
She points to the pile of clothes between our beds. “Can that disappear before I return?”
“I can’t do laundry when I’m celebrating.”
She laughs. “Well, then, at least move it to the other side where I don’t see it. Out of sight, out of mind.”
“Okay, Mom.” I smirk.
She waves and heads out, shutting the door behind her. Silence floods the room and washes away the adrenaline from today.
I unlock my phone and open my texts. I haven’t heard from Lincoln since the good luck message he sent this morning, and I’m desperately trying not to be upset that he hasn’t checked in yet. It isn’t like I expected him to be glued to his phone waiting for updates, but I thought he'd be more anxious to hear how it went. Even my mom has called to say congratulations.
I flip through Netflix for something to watch, but I’m too antsy or tired or some weird combination of both, so I give up and get out of bed to grab my wedge and a ball. The door to my dorm opens before I reach my bag, and I look up, pleasantly surprised to see Abby again.
“Hey, you’re back. Thank God, I just realized, I have no idea what to do when I’m not—”
Lincoln steps in behind her, silencing me with his presence.
“Look who I found,” Abby says around a grin. While Lincoln isn’t looking in her direction, she mouths oh my God and fans her face.
I laugh, and Lincoln turns to see what’s so funny.
Abby uses the hand she was fanning herself with to wave. “See you two later.”
Once she’s gone, he walks toward me slowly, offering a quiet, “Hey.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to surprise you.”
“Well, you succeeded.”
I close the space between us with two skips and throw my arms around his neck. “I can’t believe it. Seriously, not complaining, but why are you here? I thought you’d call.”
He waits until I pull back. His hands frame my face, and the pad of his right thumb runs along my cheek. “You won today.”
Three simple words that make pride and happiness swell inside me. “I did.”
“So damn proud of you.” His lips meet mine in a caress, and when he speaks again, his words drift to me softly. “I’m sorry I missed it.”
“You’re here now.”
I make the move this time, smashing my lips against his. It feels better than any victory. Electricity courses through me as his hands fall to my hips and then swoop under my ass to pick me up. My legs wrap around his waist as my fingers sink into the dark hair at the nape of his neck.
Lincoln’s lips pull into a smile against my mouth before he says, “Let me guess, yours is the unmade bed?”
“I was busy today. Hello, Valley Invitational tournament winner.”
I kiss him again, so he doesn’t look around at the rest of the mess.
He lays me on the bed and stands beside it staring down at me. “You’re beautiful.” He tosses a shirt off the foot of the bed and then a tube of mascara follows. “Messy as hell, but beautiful.”
His sexy smirk stays in place until I sit up and take my shirt off. I toss it in the same direction as the others. That moves him to action. With one hand at the nape of my neck, he guides me back and then settles on top of me.
My hands go to the hem of his shirt and tug. We break apart only long enough to remove it and then he’s back at my lips, tasting and teasing.
I yank at his thick, dark hair as his expert mouth explores mine and the
n lowers to my chest. He palms one breast and nips at the other as I arch into his touch.
He takes his time even as I trail my hands down and try to cop a feel by squeezing my hands inside his pants.
“Pants. Off,” I finally mutter.
“I’m celebrating up here.” His tongue circles my nipple and then his teeth clamp down on it.
“Can you celebrate with your penis inside me?”
He chuckles but doesn’t relent. My orgasm is on a hair trigger when he finally kisses down my stomach and pushes my shorts and panties down past my hips. Every inch of my stomach gets kissed or licked or nipped before he finally removes my clothes completely and his lips descend to my pussy. He kisses it, and the small amount of friction pulls a long moan from me.
He settles between my legs and looks up at me. His dark eyes shine with mischief and my heart thumps wildly.
Finally, he pushes my legs apart wider and licks me. One long swipe of his tongue that makes me feel drunk and desperate.
“Lincoln,” I pant as he presses a thumb to my clit and moves it in slow circles as he tastes me.
My body quakes, and the noises that pour out of me are porn-star worthy. He’s porn-star worthy. I want him to stop and to never stop. The orgasm that builds is so powerful I’m sure it’ll break me into a million pieces.
Stars dance behind my eyelids while he moans as if my pleasure is getting him off as much as it is me. My eyes fly open as I come. Our stares collide, and my heart squeezes as so many things I can’t or won’t say pass between us.
As I’m panting and trying to get my world to stop spinning, he undresses and grabs a condom. His fingertips slide across my cheek and tuck my hair behind my ear before he tears the foil opens and sheaths himself. He positions himself at my sensitive core and slowly eases inside.
The walls of my pussy squeeze him, and he hisses a breath as he buries himself completely. The rhythm is slower than the last time, and something about it makes my body soar faster.
This unhurried pace and the look in his eyes as he stares down at me seems to blur the lines we’ve drawn and all the rules we’ve set. Not that we set them exactly. He told me he couldn’t be a boyfriend, and I accepted that. But tonight, I feel as if he’s giving me more of himself, and I cling to it, taking it, savoring it, hoping for more.
Sweet Spot Page 17