18. Jameson
Chapter eighteen
Jameson
Alexis and I dated for two years, and, honestly, I always thought we were happy. I thought we were in love. I enjoyed our time together. We had fun. We had amazing sex. That’s why, when she suggested she move in after dating for only six months, I thought, why not? She was always over at my house anyway. Might as well give her a key.
The relationship my parents have has always seemed like the ideal. It’s what I always wanted, at least before Alexis messed with my head. I wanted happy. I wanted content. I wanted Friday nights watching TV together while joking around and commiserating about our jobs.
Turns out, you can’t just jump straight in with nothing but fun times and good sex to act as your foundation. Sure, it’s a start, but pretty early on, that has to develop into trust, support, and love.
As luck would have it, Alexis was terrible at all three of those things. And the part that really gets me is that I should’ve known. I should’ve seen the signs—I should’ve listened when my family and friends blatantly pointed out the signs .
Like when my sister pointed out that Alexis always traveled with me to the fancy PR or charity events I had around the country but she would never travel with me for work. Never walked the courses while I played, claiming I needed the focus. Then, if I pushed her on it, she would distract me with sex, and I’d go without her.
Or, as my dad often mentioned, we didn’t actually act like we were in a relationship. When we were together, we were usually in bed, and when we were apart, well, we didn’t really talk much. Sure, we would text sometimes, call each other here and there, and even both got off while on FaceTime together after a couple of my bigger tournament wins, but when I was gone, we didn’t talk regularly. Early on, I tried calling her while I was away, but she’d always decline my call and shoot me a quick text about how busy she was working. Working a remote marketing job that I now question if it even actually existed.
Which is why I’m shocked that, three weeks after getting her number, Bryn is still the first person I text in the morning and the last one I talk to at night. She’s been traveling for work for an extended time, so I haven’t been able to take her out again. Now, she’s coming back to Wild Bluffs this afternoon, and I’m like a puppy sitting by the door, waiting for her to get home.
After our date, I sat in the back of my Uber to my hotel rocking a halfie from a kiss . A fucking kiss and I was at half-mast and also completely unsure what to do next. The date had been—shit, it had been better than I ever imagined. I’d just been on the best date of my life. Never once did I feel like I was arm candy or like she was using my name or my fame to get ahead. In fact, it had been clear she was going out of her way not to.
But, sitting there in the back of that car, my insecurities had started to worm their way in. Because here’s the problem, I never thought Alexis was using me either. Sure, my family and friends noticed, but not right away. In the beginning, she seemed genuine, and everyone liked her. It’s not like she was walking around, shouting “I’m dating this guy for his money! I’m actually going to use his connections to meet other famous athletes and then fuck them on our kitchen table!” I’m pretty sure she even offered to pay on our first date. I hadn’t let her, of course, but she had offered.
So I sat there on my way home from the date, staring out the car window, torn between liking Bryn so much that a simple goodnight kiss made me horny and wanting to have nothing to do with another relationship ever again. I typed out a text asking her to fly back with me the next day and quickly deleted it. The next one I drafted thanked her for the date and suggested we get together at some nonspecific time in the future. It also got deleted. About three more failed attempts later, I had one composed that essentially told her I’d had a momentary lapse in judgment when I asked her to call it a date and to lose my number. At which point, I had given up and called my sister.
Apparently, she had already gotten wind of the fact that I flew to LA with JT, no doubt from the man himself, and was literally shrieking with glee when I told her I’d been on a date with Bryn. Her joy quickly turned to annoyance, though, when I explained my predicament. Her exact words when I asked her what I should do were “Sack the fuck up and stop thinking that every woman is out to take advantage of you just because Alexis was.”
It was hard to disagree with her assessment, so as I made my way into my hotel that night, I listened to her advice and sent Bryn a text telling her just how much fun I had with her. Her response had been equally as enthusiastic.
Now I’m parked in front of Bryn’s sister’s house, waiting for Bryn to get back so we can go out for dinner. To be fair to me, she said she was going to get home five minutes ago. I hadn’t wanted to look too eager, so I arrived two minutes ago—literally the longest I could convince myself to wait to see her.
Apparently, there was a tractor slowing down traffic on the highway outside of town, causing her to arrive later than anticipated. Bryn flies commercial, so she had to make the two-hour drive from the commercial airport. The 120 minutes since she messaged me that her plane had landed and she was on her way have felt like the longest of my life. Even longer than the time I had to wait out a rain delay to finish the last two holes of the Masters and claim my first Green Jacket.
Noticing Bryn’s car pull into the driveway, I climb out of my truck, shoving my hands in my jeans pockets and strolling toward her parked Tesla.
She climbs out of the car, and I can’t help but blatantly check out her long legs and perfect round ass as she bends over to grab her suitcase out of the back seat.
“Here, let me take that in for you.”
She whirls, pulling out a headphone I hadn’t noticed. “Shit, Jameo. What are you doing lurking out here?”
I love that she calls me Jameo.
I extend my hand, offering to pull her suitcase in for her. She rolls her eyes. “I got it. I’m fully capable of carrying my own suitcase.”
Shrugging, I put my hand back in my pocket, unsure if giving her a hug is appropriate at this point in the night. She’s not particularly putting off hugging vibes at the moment.
“Okay. Though I can also carry a suitcase. Just for the record.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re very strong. We all know. No need to flash your arm porn around.”
As she makes her way inside, I follow like the helpless puppy I’ve already established I am.
While she’s setting down her suitcase to love on the actual dog inside the house, I look around. It’s a fairly modern-looking home, a mixture of grays and blacks.
Bryn grins up at me from where she is squatting on the floor, her black work pants covered in dog hair. “This is Jack.”
I come closer, letting the dog sniff my hand before I pet his neck a couple times. “Hiya, Jack.” Looking over at Bryn, I ask, “How old is he?”
“Almost eight,” she says. “I got him in college. I don’t take him when I travel, so I end up leaving him here or with my parents a lot.”
“Makes sense why he’s so excited to see you, then. I understand the feeling myself.” I feel my cheeks heat up with the admission.
She stands up, turning around with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Ah, Jameo, did you miss me?”
The dog’s tail wags vigorously, and I nod at it. “If I had a tail, it would be doing exactly the same thing.”
Bryn’s chuckle reverberates through my soul as she moves deeper into the house. “Are you okay to hang out here for a few minutes? I need to shower and change real quick to get the airplane off me.”
I look around the living room, taking in the two gray couches that face the large flat-screen TV on the wall. “Of course. Sorry, I should’ve asked if you would need a few minutes once you got home to get ready.”
“Not a problem. I was excited to see you too. Plus, I promise I’ll be quick in there.” She hands me a remote for the TV and starts to walk toward the stairs to the second floor. She stops, quickly turning around and giving me a tight hug. “It’s good to see you. I’m looking forward to tonight.”
She tries to pull away, but I hold on to her, not ready for the contact to be over. “Same.”
I finally let her go, knowing from our many conversations the past few weeks that she’s a bit of a germaphobe who most definitely wants to get the airplane off her. I really should’ve thought of that before I showed up right as she was getting home.
As she walks up the stairs, I call out, “Let me know if you need any help in there.”
I listen to her laugh in response as I flop down on the couch. The TV has just switched on when I hear a door behind me open.
“What does she need help with?”
I whip my head around, surprised to find that we aren’t alone in the house, though I don’t know why I made that assumption. “Oh, uhm,” I fumble out.
Kelsey just stares at me, a semi-bored look on her face.
“She’s just taking a quick shower before we head out for dinner,” I say.
She snickers in amusement as she sits down on the other couch. “Oh, and you thought she might need help with that, huh? Very chivalrous of you to offer.”
I clear my throat. “Just, uh, just trying to…” I trail off, noticing her almost silent laughter. “Dang. You Harper sisters sure know how to keep a guy on his toes.”
“We do appreciate a good verbal spar for sure. Plus, Bryn essentially uses this place as an Airbnb. The least I can get out of it is the opportunity to embarrass her dates every once in a while.”
I look at her, feeling the scowl pull on my face. “Dates, huh?” I hadn’t actually meant to ask it, but now I can’t take it back, mainly because I really want to know the answer.
“Oh no, I’m not having that conversation with you. Though”—she looks up the stairs toward Bryn’s room—“I will say you have absolutely nothing to worry about.”
I nod and turn my attention back to the TV. “Anything you want to watch?”
“Nah, I’m fine with whatever.”
I put on the news, unsure what else to watch with a woman who is basically a complete stranger.
“I heard you’re going to start playing in PGA events again next weekend.” She’s back to looking at me intently.
I’m somewhat surprised Bryn mentioned it to her, not that it’s a secret. My publicist made the announcement last week, and I told Bryn the night before the news broke, just so she wouldn’t be surprised. I had, instead, been the one who had been surprised by her response. She was totally unfazed, suggesting I send her the dates for the events I plan to attend, and she’ll see if she can end up in any of the same cities for work while I’m there.
It was easy. Normal. Unfortunately, with the way the Tour schedule works with the important events only being open to golfers with high enough standings, I need to get back in some tournaments to be in the top 50. If I get enough points, I will have a guaranteed spot and won’t have to spend every weekend of the year traveling. It will require a hard last few months of the year, but it’s doable. If I play like I was a year and a half ago—winning over a quarter of the tournaments I played in, and placing in the top 10 in all but one—I’ll have that guaranteed spot.
I’m not sure what Kelsey is looking for, so I stick with a simple, “I am.”
She raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re ready to be back?”
The balls on the Harper sisters. “I do. I’ve been playing really well the last few weeks.”
She nods. “That’s what I hear.”
I don’t love that Bryn appears to be passing all my news straight to her sister, but I guess I can’t blame her. Now that I’m out of my pit of despair and back to communicating with my family and friends on a regular basis, I’ve talked to both my sister and JT about Bryn.
Kelsey continues, “In small towns, nothing is a secret. Sure, at clubs like Wild Bluffs, they make sure everyone knows to keep your information out of the press and to toe the official no-comment party line, but that doesn’t ever actually translate to town gossip. The town has never been more knowledgeable about your golf game. You could say we’re all invested now.”
She must be able to see the confusion on my face, because she continues, “Bryn hasn’t been back to Wild Bluffs since you announced your return, and I would hate for her to find out something like that from town. Which she will the minute you guys get to dinner.”
Ahh. So Kelsey didn’t hear it from Bryn. I suppose it’s nice that she’s trying to help me out. “Bryn was the first person I told after confirming everything with my team.”
“Really?” she asks, raising one eyebrow. “She didn’t mention it to me.”
Luckily, I don’t have to respond, as we both turn at the sound of Bryn’s feet coming down the stairs, Jack following after her.
I stand up and take her in. She’s in light jeans with a dark gray sweater that hugs her full tits perfectly. “Damn. You look great.” I look at my watch. “And done in less than fifteen minutes. Very impressive.”
She smiles and grabs my hand, pulling me out the door. “Yes, I’m very impressive all around. You’ll see. I’m also starving and was unaware I left you down here with ninja-mode Kelsey.” She shoots a glare over her shoulder at her sister, who wiggles her fingers in farewell.
We take my pickup the few minutes to Main Street, and when we pull up in front of the restaurant, she turns to look at me fully instead of getting out of the vehicle. “I heard Kelsey warning you about this before, but I feel like I need to give you one last chance to back out. As soon as we go in there and people see us together, the rumors will start. By tomorrow morning, the town will all know we are dating, and half of them will have already picked out our wedding colors.” She blushes as she says the last part, and I’m thrown back to our last date when she made her “taking it slow” speech that was equal parts unnecessary, awkward, and hilarious.
“Oh. Well, I mean, I think it’s kinda late to be worried about us being in public together after California. I don’t think any pictures will end up coming out from that, but we did decide to be casually official, right? It’ll be okay if the press gets a hold of this?”
She shrugs. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking about the press. Paparazzi are truly nothing compared to small-town gossip. I know you’re a big, famous golfer and all, but in this case, this is about me, not you. It has been…a while since I went on a date in Wild Bluffs, so I’m sure the tongues will be wagging.” She looks over at my slightly shocked expression. “If it makes you feel better, the fact that you’re a professional athlete will definitely add to the drama level.”
“I’m not—” I start, then decide better of what I was going to say. “I mean, okay. Anything specific I need to be prepared for?”
She taps a finger to her chin, highlighting the small dimple there. “I would like to say your media training should have prepared you for this, but I’m honestly not sure. Just don’t give more information than necessary. And, whatever you do, do not, under any circumstances, tell a lie. Those people can sniff out lies like hunting dogs after a rabbit.”
Why am I more nervous about this than my first ever press conference? Maybe I should’ve called Erica for some talking points. Oh well, it’ll be worth it. “Got it,” I say, pushing open the door. Though, honestly, I’m not sure I do got it.