by L. P. Dover
“Do you want to come shopping with the girls today?” my mother asks, already knowing the answer by the look on her face.
And by girls, she means her sisters and her aunts. As much as I love them all, I need my space. “I think I’ll stay here,” I reply, laughing. “There’s only so much I can handle of your side of the family.”
She snorts. “Tell me about it. Your father’s already hating life and it’s our first day of vacation.” We both glance over at my father who is at the hostess stand, paying the bill with my brother, Bryan, beside him. They could easily pass for brothers with their light brown hair, same athletic build, and golden-brown eyes. A group of my uncles and male cousins are standing off to the side, waiting on them.
My father waves at us and leaves with the group of men, but my brother stays behind and walks toward us. He’s thirty years old, just two years older than me. His wife had to work and wasn’t able to join us. I think she knew it was going to be a crazy fest and used the excuse of work to get out of coming. Smart girl.
When he gets to the table, our mother kisses his cheek and tells him to have a good day before walking off to join the women for their shopping adventures.
Bryan takes her seat and shakes his head. “It’s like a damn circus. How the hell are we coerced into coming to this shit every year?”
He chuckles and I laugh with him. “They’re our family. We can’t trade them in.” I nod toward our father who leads the group of men into the lobby. “Where are the guys going?”
Bryan glances back at them and laughs. “Patriots Point.” He turns his attention to me. “I’m not about to go anywhere publicly with Uncle Earl. He’s embarrassing enough as it is. I’m already dealing with that shit Jennings blathered to the media.”
If he only knew that Greyson was here. I want to tell him, but decide against it. Then again, Greyson deserves to get his ass kicked for what he said to the media about my brother. It was all over every single social media outlet … Bryan Nelson Fakes Injury to Avoid Defeat. The media had a field day with it. Bryan had broken his wrist after slipping on some rocks while hiking with a group of his buddies in the Grand Tetons. The world didn’t want to hear that though. All that gets put in the media these days is drama, not the truth.
I finish the last of my orange juice. “So what do you want to do today?”
Bryan smiles at something over my shoulder. When I look out the windows, it’s the perfect view of the ninth hole, right by the shoreline. “Seriously? You want to golf?”
He stands and stretches his arms above his head. “I think I’m ready. The wrist hasn’t been giving me much trouble.”
It’s been a while since my brother and I have been able to enjoy time on the course together. When we were younger, our father used to take us golfing a minimum of three times a week. Any day we weren’t on the course, we had to practice our swings in the back yard.
Bryan walks around to my side of the table. “Come on, Leah. You know you want to get out there.” And I do. I miss the tranquility of it all. Golfing has always been a way of relaxing for me, especially after a long week of working at the hospital.
“Fine,” I say, getting to my feet. “It just so happens I brought my golf clubs. They’re in the pro shop. I just need to change clothes really fast.”
He winks. “Perfect. I’ll meet you there in fifteen.” We’re staying at one of the best golf resorts in Charleston. I knew one way or another I’d want to play a few rounds of golf, even if it is just by myself.
I quickly run up to my room and change out of my sundress into a white golf skirt and sleeveless pink polo shirt. Once my hair is braided and out of the way, I’m ready to go. When I get down to the pro shop, Bryan is outside in a cart with our clubs strapped to the back.
“That was fast,” I call out.
He shrugs. “I had them all ready to go before I even asked you to golf. I figured you’d say yes so I made us a tee time earlier this morning.”
Laughing, I hop in. “Smart.”
The first hole is close by, and luckily, no one is there. We can get right to teeing off. The fairways are plush, and the greens are immaculate. A beautiful course. The wind is strong, but we’re used to playing in various weather conditions and geographical locations. My family and I traveled the world when my dad played in tournaments. What I love about playing golf in Charleston is the ocean.
Bryan walks up to his tee box and stretches. I’m curious to see how he does with his wrist. When he broke it, the doctor said it was one of the worst breaks he’d ever seen. Once his ball is teed up, he gets into place and drives the hell out of it. I watch it sail down the fairway, straight to the green.
“Oh my God, Bryan, that was amazing,” I squeal.
He turns to me and brushes off his shoulders. “I’ve been practicing.”
“I can see that.” He gets in the cart and drives me down to the forward set of tees. “The PGA Tour starts soon. I’m not missing it.”
This is good news and I know our father will be ecstatic. I hug him hard. “And I will be there to support you,” I say to him.
We play the first couple of holes rather quickly and soon catch up to two men on the fourth hole. It’s a par five hole and they’re right in the middle of the fairway. We have to wait to hit until they get at a safe distance away. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the salty sea air. If I didn’t love my job at my Charlotte hospital, I’d move to the beach in a heartbeat.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Bryan growls.
Heart racing, my eyes snap open. “What?” I gasp.
He points toward the fairway. “Look who it is.”
There’s only one person it could be to earn such a hated look from my brother. And of course, when I focus on the guy about to hit his ball, I recognize his stance. Greyson Jennings has his own style when it comes to golf. I hate the guy, but he’s one of the best. You can’t help but admire how talented he is.
Bryan fumes and clenches the steering wheel. “Of all places he could be, why in the hell is he here?” I’ve been wondering the same thing. Greyson never answered when I asked him. It wouldn’t surprise me if he did it on purpose. The only way he could’ve found out would be through my social media.
Bryan hops out of the cart and reaches for his driver. Eyes wide, I can feel my heart pounding harder. “Bryan, what are you doing?”
He tees up his ball and smiles. “Just having a little fun, sis. If I knock him out, he deserves it.”
This is going to be a disaster. I just know it. The sound of his driver connecting with the ball is so loud it echoes in my ears. I watch it sail through the air, right in the direction toward Greyson. He doesn’t even yell fore, and I’m too shocked to even speak. The ball starts to drop from the sky and when it lands, it’s only about three feet away from Greyson and his best friend, Eli. He jerks around and throws his arms up in the air. Bryan bursts out laughing and flips them both off.
Greyson and Eli jump in their cart and head toward us. This is not what I want. “Just great,” I grumble. “Now look what you did.”
Bryan comes over to me and leans against the cart. “The fucker deserved it. It’s time he knows I’m back in the game.”
The last thing I want is to get in the middle of a testosterone match. I don’t care about seeing who has the bigger balls. When Greyson gets closer, his snarl turns into a smile when he notices me. Definitely not what I want. Bryan steps forward, driver in hand.
“Sorry about that,” my brother taunts, “I didn’t exactly hit what I was aiming for.”
Greyson bursts out laughing and steps out of the cart. “You never do. You obviously don’t know how to handle your shaft.”
Here we go. Groaning, I smack a hand to my forehead. “Really? This is what I’m going to have to put up with today?”
Greyson smirks at me, his gaze roaming over my bare legs before settling back on my eyes. “It’s good to see you again, Leah. I didn’t know you played golf.”
&nb
sp; Busted. Bryan’s going to be pissed I didn’t tell him. His shoulders tense but he doesn’t look at me. Instead, he moves to the front of the cart to block Greyson from looking at me. “How about we play teams? My sister and I against you and your caddy.”
The day just got worse. I’m going to kill my brother. Then again, maybe we can teach Greyson a lesson.
“Bryan, no,” I snap. “I suck at golf. We’ll lose.”
His eyes meet mine for the briefest of moments. Even though he can’t read my mind, we have a connection. Bryan stands up straighter and turns back to Greyson. “No worries, sis. I’ll play good enough for us both.”
“What are we playing for?” Greyson asks, moving to the side so he can see me. “Money? A date?”
I roll my eyes. “You can forget that.” I hop out of the cart and join my brother. “How about a thousand dollars?”
Greyson and Eli look at each other and I can see the outright arrogance on their faces. That’s their downfall. Greyson holds out a hand to my brother. “Deal. A thousand dollars.”
Bryan shakes his hand, the muscles in both of their forearms clenching. “Deal,” Bryan agrees.
Greyson tips his hat at me and smiles. “I’m happy you’ll be playing with me.”
I grab my driver out of my bag. “I’d rather play with myself.” He finds it hilarious, but I see it as a jab. The guy is an insufferable tool.
Since Bryan already drove his ball to hit Greyson, it ends up being my turn. I tee up my ball and swing. It slices to the right, completely out of the fairway and into the rough. Greyson and Eli chuckle under their breath as they drive away while Bryan glares at me.
“Please tell me you did that on purpose?”
My lips pull up into a smile. “Of course, I did. Think about how much fun it’s going to be when we kick his ass.”
Bryan grins wide. “Let’s show him what we can do.”
Hole after hole, we’re neck and neck with only one stroke between us. It’s a close match, but I’m holding my own, especially for a female in a mostly male dominated sport. It all comes down to the eighteenth hole. It’s a par three with water all around the green. We all managed to get across the water, and now, it’s time to putt. It’s all down to me. If I can birdie my putt, my brother and I will win. If I don’t, we’re screwed. I can’t let Bryan down. He needs this win, and Greyson needs to be taken down a notch.
Taking a deep breath, I look over at the hole and then down at my ball. It’s about an eight-foot-long putt. I breathe in and out and close my eyes. Come on, Leah, you can do this. I open my eyes and tap the ball. It rolls across the green … and right into the hole.
Bryan yells and scoops me up into his arms. “Hell fucking yeah. You did it!”
He swings me around and I laugh. Greyson and Eli both seem impressed. Greyson walks over and pulls out a wad of cash from his wallet. Bryan sets me down and Greyson hands him the money. “Good job. It’s about time you won at something. I hate it had to be because of your sister.”
Bryan narrows his gaze. “But at least she kicked your ass, cocksucker. You got beat out by a girl. Wait till everyone finds out about this.”
Greyson shrugs and Bryan walks over to the cart. Before I can turn, he lightly grabs my arm. “I’m impressed. Guess it’s not a surprise since your father’s a legend. He taught you well.”
“Yes, he did.”
His eyes search mine. “Go out with me tomorrow. I think we could have some fun.”
I snort. “I can do that without you.” My smile grows wider. “Besides, I’ll be busy spending that thousand dollars.”
Greyson chuckles. “You do that. Maybe next time.”
I walk backwards toward the cart. “Not gonna happen.”
Three
Greyson
“How many times are you going to pump your shoulders until you’re ready?”
Eli stands in the full-length mirror and pushes his shoulders up and down, back and forth, while he straightens his shirt. I do this too but not to the extent he does. Each pop or flex and his shirt rides up because he insists on wearing a size smaller than what he really wears. He tells me it’s because women like to see his muscles. I think it’s because he likes to see them. When I first met Eli in college, he was this scrawny, dweeby kid working at the golf course. On the day we met, the group I was with were heading out and we needed caddies. No one picked Eli, so I did. My stupid ass friends laughed, but I won in the end. He not only became my best friend, but he’s the best caddy on the circuit and he’s loyal as fuck. Of course, my fame went to his head but only in the sense that he bettered himself. His words, not mine.
“You wish you looked this good.” He flexes in the mirror and I swear he makes a kissy face, but I can’t be certain. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I ignore his statement and remind him, “You know you have to wear a jacket to this meeting.”
We are meeting with a couple of my sponsors this evening. Normally, I would take my business manager, but since Eli and I are technically on vacation and the sponsors called, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Nor would it be very smart. If someone wants to pay me millions to wear their clothes or put their name on my bag, it’s going to happen.
He nods. “Just making sure I’m all set for later.”
Later . . . When Eli hits the hotel bar and picks up a girl for the night. He’ll settle down, someday. At least, that is what I tell his mom when she asks me what happened to her sweet, innocent boy. I happened—well money, fame, and being tied to me.
As soon as Eli’s ready, we’re out the door and heading down the stairs toward the lobby. It’s my preferred method of getting around the hotel because you never know who you’re going to run into. Word has spread since our little golf game the other day with Leah and the jackass, and more women are starting to hang out at the bar. Eli tells me the women are there for him, and I let him believe that.
Thankfully, when we get outside, our car is waiting for us. The black limo is meant to entice me to sign on the dotted line. They could’ve sent Mopeds and I would’ve been happy. For the most part, I’m simple. I like nice things but I’m not out wearing Louis Vuitton shoes. I still like my Adidas. You won’t find me wearing a Gucci belt because the one I have from Nike is perfect. Eli often has to remind me that I have a bank account that many would die for. I call it retirement. Golf is hard on the body. My back aches all the time, my hips are sore, and my shoulder feels like it’s going to rip off some days. I love the game and don’t want to stop anytime soon.
The drive to the restaurant is fifteen minutes, tops. A total waste of money with the limo, but the air-conditioned ride is a nice one.
“Right this way, Mr. Jennings.” The doorman holds the door open to one of the nicest restaurants in Charleston—The Fig Tree. When my manager told me this is where I was meeting these sponsors, I balked. I don’t like their food. Not in the sense that I’m out eating fancy meals every night. I love barbecue, fried chicken, and buttermilk biscuits. What I don’t like are foods I can’t pronounce, have trees growing out of the top of them because someone told the chef in culinary school that putting twigs in food is a good thing, and I absolutely will never understand why these fancy ass restaurants do not give you sizable portions. It’s almost like they’re telling their customers they all need to lose some weight. When I go out to eat, I want to eat. I want to sit and enjoy my meal, have a good conversation, and maybe order dessert. I don’t want stuffy, overpriced food that leaves me wondering what’s on my plate.
Eli is now in business mode. He approaches the podium and tells the host who we are there to meet. We’re led to our table where the representative for Boisterous Headphones stands and reaches his hand out to shake mine. “Mr. Jennings, we’re so happy you could take some time while on vacation to join us.”
I shake his hand. “No problem. Happy to be here.”
He then turns to Eli. “And you must be Eli Cunningham.”
Introductions are had and we t
ake our seats. Within seconds, my water glass is filled, and Eli is ordering a cocktail. I don’t drink during business meetings. I like to keep my wits about me and my head clear.
We make small talk until our food comes and once my steak is put down in front of me, the company gets down to business. They want me to shoot a couple commercials, wear their headphones when I’m out, post a couple images on social media with them on, and they’ll pay me two million for the year.
Sign. Me. Up!
After dinner, when all the handshakes and pats on the back are done, Eli and I take our leave. Overall, the dinner was painless. In the limo, I make a call to my manager to let her know she should expect some paperwork in the next few days and to go ahead and arrange a few paparazzi shots so these headphone guys are happy right off the bat.
“I’m going to head up,” I tell Eli when we get back to the hotel. I’m not tired, but I don’t really feel like chatting it up with people in the bar. As soon as I get to my floor, my phone dings with a text from Eli telling me Leah is in the bar, and just like that my mood has changed. I head back down and take a seat in the corner so I can watch her. My obsession with her makes me a stalker, but I can’t help it. She’s fucking gorgeous and doesn’t even have to try.
Tonight, she’s wearing a yellow sundress, which accents her tanned skin. Her back is showing and each time she moves, her shoulder blades pop and for some reason I find that to be the sexiest fucking thing ever. When the waitress comes to my table, I order a scotch on the rocks and ask her to make sure Leah has a fresh drink. That’s when she drops the bomb that the man sitting next to Leah has been buying her drinks all night long.
Nope, this isn’t going to work for me. Only, there isn’t anything I can do without looking like an ass because there’s someone on the other side of Leah, so I’m forced to wait, and I really hate waiting when I get an idea. Instead, I watch them like a hawk and constantly motion for the waitress to come over. I pepper her with questions about the guy Leah’s with and she tells me they didn’t come in together and it looks like he’s trying to pick her up.