Love At First Sight (Love Comes First Book 2)

by Olivia T. Turner

  “What’s wrong with you?” Nolan asks. “You didn’t eat any of those mushrooms growing in the forest, did you?”

  My head is turned all the way away from him as I try to catch another glimpse of her, but it’s impossible with all the trees and the increasing distance between us.

  “Eli!” Nolan snaps. “Get your head in the game. Jesus.”

  “The girl…”

  “What girl?”

  He wouldn’t even believe me if I told him. I don’t even know if I believe it.

  “Carrie,” I whisper and a shiver snakes down my spine. I have enough money to buy anything I desire, but all I want is her. I’d burn every dollar I have to spend the night with her.

  “Carry what? Your clubs?” Nolan says, looking at me funny. “Just stay in the cart and stop acting so weird.”

  He pulls up to where Mr. Brown and Gabriel are waiting. They look very annoyed. I couldn’t care less. All I care about is seeing that girl again. My girl. She’s going to be mine.

  She already is. I’ve decided it and once I get something in my head, I get it no matter what.

  Possessive feelings are flowing through my veins as we step out of the cart. This girl is wedged deep under my skin already. I’m all wound up and irritable, hating that I’m not running over to her right now.

  “That took an excessive amount of time,” Mr. Brown says with a frown as we walk over to Nolan’s ball. We’re playing best ball, which means that we’ve been playing off of Nolan’s ball all day.

  “Save it,” I snap.

  All eyes dart to me as I squeeze my club and whack the ball. I’m irritable and ready to kill something, so I hit the ball as hard as I can. It goes about two feet, but the big chunk of grass goes about twenty.

  Gabriel snorts out a laugh, but his smile quickly disappears when I glare at him in warning.

  Thoughts of my Carrie are flooding my mind, drowning me in desire as I look back at the trees, wishing we were both back there.

  Nolan hits the ball—somewhere, I don’t care—and the rest of my foursome returns to their carts.

  “Wait!” I shout a little too loud. “Can we go play on that hole? The one down there?”

  Gabriel and Mr. Brown glance at each other before looking at me with confusion in their eyes.

  “Normally, it’s customary to play the course in numerical order.”

  And normally it’s not customary for a man to lose his shit after seeing a girl once, but here we are.

  “He’s just joking,” Nolan says as he grabs me by the collar and drags me back to our golf cart. He practically throws me in. “What the fuck is up with you? We’re supposed to be professional and you’re acting like you decided to try crystal meth for the first time! Are you trying to lose this account?”

  “I’m losing my mind…”

  Nolan drops his eyes with a sigh. “Is it drugs? What kind?”

  “The female kind,” I say as my heart wrenches around in my chest. Being apart from her physically hurts.

  “Not the old lady at the ticket counter?” Nolan says, scrunching his nose up.

  “What? No! I met her in the woods. When I was getting my ball.”

  Nolan frowns as he glances back at the empty trees. “You’re sure it’s not drugs?”

  I roll my eyes. “Just go.”

  We drive over the hill and Nolan curses when he sees that he’s landed in the sand trap. I couldn’t care less. My mind is in another dimension. One with me and Carrie on vacation… her in a bikini… holding my hand after a candlelight dinner on the beach… me carrying her into our room… honeymooners written in lipstick on the mirror… the bliss… the euphoria… the sweet softness of her tight little—

  “Eli!” Nolan snaps. “It’s your shot.”

  Mr. Brown and Gabriel are on the other side of the green where they can barely see us.

  “What’s the point?” I say with a heavy breath. “We’ll just use your ball anyway.”

  “Stop looking so depressed,” he says as he smoothes out his footprints with the rake. “You’ll see her at the dinner tonight, and there’s a cocktail party at the club after the tournament.”

  My thoughts scatter. I’m too excited to think.

  I forgot all about the cocktail party. Of course, she’s going to be there. She has to be there, right?

  And if she’s not… I’ll find some way to find her.

  I’ll find her.

  And I’ll make her mine.

  Chapter Four

  Carrie

  “Are we almost finished?” I ask as we pull up to the next hole. This day is taking forever.

  “This is the eleventh hole,” Mr. Miller says as we get out of the cart and grab our clubs to hit yet again.

  “Out of how many?” Please say eleven. Please say eleven.

  “Eighteen.”

  Damn it.

  I sigh as I lean on the cart, daydreaming for the millionth time of that hot guy I met in the forest. He was just staring at me like a freak, but he was really cute. There’s something about him that I can’t shake. I keep looking around for him, but all I see is one old man after another.

  It was definitely the most interesting part of the day, but it’s over now. Back to boring reality.

  “Looks like you hit that one with your purse,” Raymond laughs after Mr. Miller’s ball doesn’t go too far.

  They all laugh as I roll my eyes. These misogynistic jokes keep getting worse with every hole.

  “You’re up, buttercup,” Barney says as he points his finger gun at me.

  “It’s Carrie,” I say in a flat voice as I walk up and place my tee. I take a deep breath and whack the ball. Raymond and Barney burst out laughing as my ball flies past Mr. Miller’s.

  It’s the first ball of mine that we’re using, but that doesn’t stop me from giving him a cocky look as I shove my club back in my bag. “Looks like we’re going to be using my ball.”

  He sneers as he gets behind the wheel of the cart. “It appears so. I guess you’re good for more than just a pretty view.”

  I bite my lip angrily as he takes off and the wind roars into my hair. I need this job. I need this job.

  We hit again and this time, my streak of one is over. Mr. Miller hits it down the fairway and I hit right beside the pond.

  “Meet me at the ball,” he says as he drives off in a huff. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who likes to be challenged. Especially by a young girl. Especially in front of his friends.

  What an asshole.

  I’m dragging my club in the grass and cursing the golfing gods for keeping me here while I walk to the pond to fetch my ball.

  A frog jumps in the water as I step on the squishy ground and grab it. It’s then that I see a familiar face across the large pond that’s about the size of a baseball diamond.

  “Hey! Callaway!”

  He looks up at me with a fierceness in his bright green eyes and my skin explodes with tingles. He’s about three holes behind us. We already played that one (and I already hit my ball into this very pond from the other side).

  His hair is a mess and his shirt is untucked. He looks almost… unhinged as he stares at me in what looks and feels like awe.

  “Looks like your game is going as well as mine is,” I say with a laugh.

  He doesn’t laugh back. He just continues staring at me with his mouth hanging open. If we were in a cartoon, his huge eyes would be jutting back and forth and his tongue would be unraveling into the water.

  “All right, Callaway,” I say with a shrug. “Good luck finding your ball.”

  “Wait!” he shouts when I turn to leave. “Carrie!”

  He knows my name?

  A smile forms on my lips even though it’s a little stalkerish. Although, I think Mr. Miller did call out my name during our last meeting. He probably heard it then.

  His face is a portrait of desperation as he looks around and then starts walking forward.

  “What are you doing?” I say with a su
rprised laugh as he steps into the water and keeps walking. He’s wearing navy blue pants that are getting darker with every step. The pond water travels up his muscular calves and up to his knees as he approaches.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says with a hoarse voice.

  “Okay,” I say as I look at him funny. “And you had to get into the water to say it, why?”

  He doesn’t answer. He just keeps rushing through the shallow pond to get to me.

  “I have something to tell you,” he says when he’s a few yards away. “I—”

  “Carrie!” Mr. Miller shouts from behind me. I jump, not knowing he pulled the cart up. “What are you doing with this imbecile? Do you know him?”

  I shrug as I look back at the poor guy. “I think he’s catching frogs or something.”

  Callaway shakes his head as he stares at me, pleading with his eyes for me to stay.

  “Get in the cart,” Mr. Miller snaps. I take a deep breath and hop in, but my eyes are still on the wet hottie as we drive away. I turn and blow him a kiss as we go.

  It’s the least I can do. The poor guy has to play ten more holes with sopping wet socks.

  After what feels like twenty hours later, we’re finally finished. I’m ready for a hot bath, a good book, and a big glass of wine as Mr. Miller gives our cart back. But instead, I have to stick around here and have drinks with these old misogynist assholes.

  I text Jody and ask her to let Chester out, feed him, and give him his shot as Mr. Miller and his friends find a table on the patio of the club. There are golfers all around me, laughing and arguing about who had the best shot of the day. I smile, but I’m wishing I was driving home right now.

  I’m halfway into my second Pino Grigio when I see Callaway putting with his three friends on the last hole. I snort out a laugh (and the wine stings the inside of my nose) when I see him try to sink a three foot putt with a thirty foot shot.

  At least he’s strong…

  My eyes are roaming all over his hard round arms as Barney blabs on about his new sports car. Spoiler alert: He’s using it to compensate for his tiny shriveled up old cock.

  The four guys shake hands when their game is complete and my eyes never leave my new crush as they bring their carts back. I’m practically drooling when he takes his golf bag off and throws it over his round shoulder.

  For the past few hours, I’ve been trying to figure out what he wanted to say. It had to be important if he was willing to walk through a pond to tell me.

  I shuffled between an impending nuclear apocalypse about to happen or he found my golf ball, and everything else in between.

  My eyes are locked on him as his foursome walks onto the patio. God, my heart is pounding so hard. What is it about this guy? He’s so cute, but that’s not it. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me. Like a man dying of thirst looks at a water cooler. It’s not just that… there’s a hint of… possessiveness in his eyes that is triggering something deep and primal in me.

  I like it.

  His three friends grab a table and he heads to the bar. I’m out of my seat before I know what I’m doing (the Pino Grigio leading the way) and sidle up beside him.

  “Hey, Callaway,” I say with a smile. “Are your socks still nice and wet?”

  His jaw tightens when he sees me standing beside him, leaning on the bar. “They’re still soaked, thanks.”

  “And what possessed you to walk into a pond? Golf balls aren’t that expensive.”

  He’s giving me that look again and it’s doing something fierce to the area between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together as I swallow a little moan.

  “I did it for you.”

  “Wow,” I say with a laugh. “I’d say it was a romantic gesture but that pond was covered in duck shit. It was kind of gross actually.”

  The tight line his mouth is in curls up with a grin. “Anything for love.”

  “Love is in tennis, Callaway. Wrong sport.”

  “Wrong sport, but right girl.”

  “What would you like?” the bartender asks him. He doesn’t even notice her presence or seems to hear her as he stares at me with those piercing green eyes. “Oh, I just need a few minutes. No problem, you take your time,” she says, having a conversation with herself that is thick with annoyance. “Thank you bartender, have a nice day.” She walks away, cursing under her breath and muttering something about three more years until she’s a lawyer.

  “So,” I say when we’re alone again. “You wanted to tell me something? Something very important I gather.”

  He nods. “I want you.”

  I snort out a laugh. “Seriously? That’s your line? Stick with golf, Callaway because flirting is not your sport.”

  I grab my glass of wine and head back to my table with my head shaking. I can’t believe I was thinking about this guy all day long. My taste in guys is as good as my aim in golf—crooked and always getting me into trouble.

  He catches up with me before I get to my table. “That came out wrong.”

  “You think?”

  “Let me buy you a drink.”

  I shake my wine glass. “I already have one.”

  “It’s almost finished.”

  “So is this conversation.”

  He smiles and suddenly, I’m interested once again.

  “My name is Eli.”

  “That’s great, Callaway.”

  “Playing hard to get,” he says as he steps in close enough to get my heart racing. He smells good and his shirt looks soft enough to rest my cheek on. Maybe I should cool it on the wine…

  “I am hard to get,” I answer with my chin in the air. It’s true. I’m so hard to get that I haven’t gotten with anyone. Ever.

  Maybe that’s not because I’m too good for anyone who tries, but because the right guy hasn’t come along yet.

  “I think you’ll find,” he says as he slides his hand on my wrist and grips it firmly, “that I don’t give up easily.”

  “With a wild shot like yours, I didn’t think you would.”

  He grins as he looks down at me like I’m perfect for him. Finally, someone who enjoys my smart ass mouth.

  “You’re incredible,” he whispers.

  “And you’re taking too much of my time.” I step on my toes and give him a soft kiss on his rough cheek. “I’ll see you at dinner, Callaway.”

  He lets me go as I turn around and walk back to my table with my heart strumming in my chest.

  Eli…

  His name is humming in my head as I feel my cheeks blushing.

  Maybe this tournament isn’t so bad after all.

  Maybe I don’t mind staying a little bit longer…

  Chapter Five

  Eli

  My knee is bouncing up and down impatiently as I stare at Carrie’s empty chair. Everyone is sitting in the hall, except for her.

  I recognize the three old men she was golfing with, so I know she’s supposed to be sitting right there, but she’s not.

  This is killing me. Where the hell is she?

  Everyone is sitting at the tables of eight, the band is playing dinner music, and the servers are starting to circle around, about to take orders.

  But she’s not here. I haven’t seen her since the cocktail party, which went horribly wrong. All of this is going so wrong.

  I had prepared for a day of golfing and trying to impress Mr. Brown and his son, not to meet the girl of my dreams. She came out of nowhere and shook me to my core.

  This girl is deep under my skin already. I need to calm down, but I can’t. I can’t get any of this obsessive need under control.

  I’ve always been so cool and calm around women. It’s always been so easy. But once I meet the girl I know I have to have, it all goes to shit. I come unravelled. What the hell is that about?

  Maybe it’s because this one means something. I know I can’t lose her and it’s putting me on edge.

  “Didn’t you, Eli?” Nolan says as I’m staring at her empty chair like a little pupp
y staring out the window and longing for his master to return.

  “What?” I ask in a panic as I turn back around.

  “Princeton,” Nolan says, urging me on with his eyes.

  I just stare blankly.

  He rolls his eyes. “I told Mr. Brown that you went to Princeton.”

  “Oh, yeah. I did.”

  Nolan elaborates when I don’t. “He was the only one of us Bowen kids to go to college.”

  “He’s the smart one?” Mr. Brown says, not looking too enthused. “Oh, great.”

  I know I should keep my attention at the table, but I can’t help but look over my shoulder at her empty seat. The waiter for their table is already talking to the woman in the purple dress and scribbling something down on his notepad. Where is she?

  I don’t know how I’m going to react if she doesn’t show up tonight. An image of me grabbing the tie of the old man next to her seat and forcing him to give me her address flashes into my head. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that…

  “I’m a Princetonian myself,” Mr. Brown says with a nostalgic smile on his face. “In fact, I have a humorous story about my first time entering Nassau Hall. Listen closely to this, Eli. You’ll love it. I walked in and—”

  His smile fades when I stand up and walk away from the table.

  Carrie has entered the hall and I’m being drawn to her with an irresistible pull. My heart freezes in my chest, but then it unlocks and starts pounding viciously, vibrating through me as I take in the gorgeous view in front of me.

  She’s standing in the entrance of the hall like a goddess in a long tight black dress that has no business being in front of all these men. She belongs in my room where only my lustful eyes can feast on her beauty.

  Her blonde hair is pulled back tight and wrapped in a bun. My hands shake with every step as I imagine sinking my fingers into it and pulling it out, letting her wavy blonde hair fall free all around her stunning face.

  “Callaway,” she says with a grin when she sees me barreling down on her with stalled breaths and tingling skin. My adrenaline is through the roof, but I still can’t manage to find any words. This temptress steals my tongue every time I see her. She breaks my brain. “You look… pretty damn good.”