9. Fairway Feelings
Chapter nine
Fairway Feelings
Brody
“Well, shit. We’re in for it, aren’t we?”
I look up from my desk to see Mason in the doorway. He studies me through narrow eyes, hands in his pockets. Great, here we go. When Mason gets that look, it means I’m about to get grilled like a steak at a summer barbecue.
“What are you talking about?” I close my laptop and lean back in my chair, not that I was working anyway, my brain’s too busy replaying every damn moment with Chloe. My upcoming dinner date has been on my mind nonstop.
In fact, I haven’t been able to properly focus on anything that isn’t her, which, frankly, is becoming a problem. A big one.
Mason saunters into my office, laughing as he shakes his head. “I’ve known you long enough, Brody, and I’m very familiar with that look on your face.”
“This is my face.” I don’t so much as crack a smile, holding his gaze as proof that there’s absolutely nothing going on here.
Absolutely nothing… except for the fact that I can’t stop thinking about Chloe.
How her lips felt against mine, what she tasted like…
how her touch lingered, leaving a mark that refuses to fade. When I’ll get to feel that again .
“Objection, your honor,” he raises his voice, speaking to the imaginary judge in the room. “I call bullshit.”
Mason Steele, a grown adult of thirty-four years, project manager at Stirling Tech, prolific visionary, hops over to show he’s switching sides in his make-believe courtroom drama.
He’s the judge now and brings down his air gavel while yelling, “Sustained.”
“You’ve lost it, I’m more convinced than ever.” I bite back my laughter.
Mason leans over my desk to bear down on me. “Defendant, please answer the question.”
“The question of my friend’s sanity? I’d have to say it’s non-existent,” I reply without hesitation.
He whirls round, dramatically gesturing to the bottles of whiskey and gin on my loaded bar cart.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I’d like to call to your attention the defendant’s blatant disrespect for the order of this court. Of the truth. Of justice.” He shakes his clenched fists over his head.
“Mason, stop.” I’m only half-amused. “Some of us have work to do.” Not me, apparently, but someone else.
Thankfully, he gives it a rest and turns back into my friend of over twenty years. Our friendship is as strong as ever, despite him staying behind in Bluepeak after I left. Meeting back up in our college years later certainly helped, and him agreeing to work for my company when I asked.
“You didn’t rise to the top of your game to be stuck in the office on a beautiful day like this,” Mason’s mischievous grin tells me he has a plan, and he wants me in on it .
“Fuck it, what are we doing?” I get up from my desk, ready to leave. No hesitation. I could use a break. The surprised look on his face is almost as satisfying as escaping this place.
“That was easier than I was expecting.” He shrugs, taking the lead out of my office.
Standing propped against the receptionist desk is his golf bag. I should’ve known it’d be golf. It’s his answer to everything.
“Deal,” I say with a firm nod, swinging the bag onto my shoulder. “But only if you’re my caddy.”
“Easy tiger,” he chuckles, falling in step beside me. “I’m desperate for some guy time, but not that desperate.”
Luckily, his high spirits give me the perfect excuse to hide my strange giddy mood. He doesn’t need to know it’s not his stupid jokes that have me smiling all the time, but the fact I’ve been daydreaming about a certain someone.
We’re still shooting the shit when we walk out onto the sprawling green behind Stirling Tech Headquarters.
A breathtaking panorama greets us, complete with Crystal Heart Lake nestled right at the center of it all.
I get why Chloe goes feral every time the topic of development comes up, this place is a hidden paradise.
The crisp scent of pine carried in the breeze, the vibrant wildflowers on the undulating terrain, all set against the majestic mountains enclosing Bluepeak.
Damn, she has a point, but still. I wish she could see what I see. Development is exactly what the town needs. More people should get to enjoy this.
“Balls?” Mason grins, holding out a handful of golf balls and clearly proud of his joke .
I take them, shaking my head. “Lame.”
“Obvious, but necessary,” he shrugs, placing the tee he pulled from his pocket. “Like fart and shit jokes, all ball jokes are a sacred tradition for anyone lucky enough to be packing a pair of balls.”
“Yeah, maybe if you’re twelve.” I nudge him aside and line up my shot. “Also, boss always plays first. You know that.”
He stands corrected, gesturing for me to go ahead. “By all means, your highness.”
I laugh softly, getting ready to swing into nothing but open space. I can’t wait to have the actual golf course finished.
“Before you do,” he cuts in, stepping right in front of me. “First shot’s gonna cost.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I said… being your boss means I go first.”
But he’s not backing down. “I’ll move if you tell me what’s with that goofy smile on your face.”
My brows furrow, and I start swiping randomly at my face in a bid to get whatever bug or something off it. This sends Mason into another fit of laughter.
“I’m talking about that stupid grin you can’t seem to get rid of.”
Shit. So, he’s been on to me this whole time. I should’ve known better. Mason’s always been good at sniffing out secrets.
“I’m about to put something else on your face if you don’t move,” I warn, pulling my golf club back and faking a swing.
He dives to the side, scrambling to find a safer spot in the grass.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” he says, brushing grass off his pants, but not the faint stains on his knees. “ Forgot you could actually crack a joke now and then.”
A satisfying thwack echoes, cutting through the peaceful sounds of nature. We both turn to watch as my ball sails across the green.
“Show off.” Mason jabs an elbow into my ribs right as the ball splashes into the lake with a muted plop. A family of loons takes off into the air, their calls filling the space like a symphony.
“Me? Never.” I scoff, brushing off imaginary dirt from my shoulder.
He stands back, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. I can feel his stare dissecting me, like he’s peeling away the bullshit to get to the truth.
And what truth is that, exactly? That despite a shit ton of dates with beautiful women, none of them have ever made me feel the way Chloe does? Or that kissing her in the storage room hit me harder than anything else in ages?
A strange twist churns in my gut, and I think I know exactly what it means.
Danger zone. Chloe Adams is nothing more than a hurdle, a complication in my path toward turning Bluepeak into Stirling Tech’s next big thing.
That’s it. What I’m feeling for her? A stupid crush.
An infatuation that’ll fade before all this is over.
Right?
Besides, there’s no point in overthinking the dinner I’m having with her on Tuesday. It’s strictly business. Nothing more. Focus on the business.
“Something’s going on with you, and I’m going to figure it out before we run out of balls,” Mason warns, wagging a finger at me. “I know you, man. You don’t get all moody over nothing.”
I wave him off, gearing up to hit another shot. “Quit haggling and set up the tee already, would you?”
“It’s my turn.” Mason pushes me out of the way with exaggerated annoyance.
He pulls a golf ball from his pocket and places it down slowly. Then, he straightens up, lifts his head to sniff the air, sticks his finger in his mouth, and pops it out like he’s some sort of wind-measuring expert. Oh, for the love of, really? Now he’s gauging the wind? What’s next?
He does a ridiculous little shimmy as he steps up to the tee, butt out, tongue out, before lining up the shot.
He doesn’t give a fuck about my turn.
“You get to swing once you tell me what’s going on with you,” he says with a grin.
Of course. This isn’t golf; it’s an interrogation.
“Mason…”
“Them’s the rules, boss,” he interrupts, shaking his head slowly. He steps into his stance again, his focus back on the green ahead. He pulls the club back, then pauses dramatically, adding, “Take your time. I’ve got all day.”
I roll my eyes so hard, I’m pretty sure they’ll stay stuck in the back of my head. This man and his theatrics.
The broken motion of his swing results in a dud. He spikes a clump of grass and dirt that goes flying, while the ball simply bounces off to the side. Oh yeah, Karma working her magic. I snort with laughter, mostly because of the dumbass look of confusion on his face when it happens.
“That’s what you get for messing with me. Now step aside, asshole.”
He holds me off with an outstretched arm. “I meant what I said, Brody.”
I know this. I also know my friend’s uncanny stamina when it comes to not dropping a topic. He’s like a dog with a bone when he’s fixated on something. The man won’t let go. Normally, this works in my favor, like when it pertains to his job. This time, not so much.
I’m still trying to figure Chloe out and the effect she’s having on me. I’m not ready to divulge the details, and I sure as hell don’t want them scrutinized. Especially not by a guy with his track record for relationship disasters.
“It’s nothing,” I say with a defeated sigh. Like a wise man once said, the only way out is through. “You’re going to be disappointed, but I’ve come across something... intriguing, that’s all.”
His eyes light up. Great, I’ve fed the monster.