23. Carrie
TWENTY-THREE
CARRIE
My heart hammered for a long time after that first swing. The truth was I wasn’t that good at golf. I was mostly inconsistent, with flashes of brilliance interspersed between long periods of mediocrity. But from spending time with Mr. Wentworth and his buddies, I knew that there were just a few key moments that really mattered. Make a shot under pressure, and they’d forever think of you as someone worthy of their time. Miss—and you’d never recover your reputation. You’d be known as the one who choked under pressure, who wasn’t deserving of respect.
It wasn’t logical. But I’d stopped trying to figure out old men and golf a long time ago. I just accepted the truths as I had witnessed them.
Standing in front of Cole and the two older men, I knew one thing: That first drive had mattered. I’d felt three sets of eyes on me, judging. It was a first impression on steroids. If I was going to survive in this retreat, I had to make it count.
Besides, I wanted to shut Cole up.
The look on his face had set every nerve ending in my body on fire. I’d hardly been able to contain my glee. Mr. Big Shot was simmering with barely contained outrage, and I wanted to cackle in his face.
Petty? Yes.
Fun? Absolutely.
And when I sat down next to him and felt his gaze sweep over my side and down to my legs, it hadn’t just been competitiveness that had coursed through my veins.
The rest of the round was all over the place, with none of the four of us being particularly skilled at the game. Cole was a terrible putter, which gave me immense joy. I loved the way he gritted his teeth when he missed a shot, and how his fists clenched when I sank one.
And that time he shot the ball right in the middle of the lake with a fountain spraying water in a gigantic arc?
Well. Let’s just say he didn’t appreciate me doubling over to laugh about it.
And that smoldering, dangerous look he’d shot me when I’d wiped my eyes and marked another point for me on our unofficial scorecard for our wager might have gotten me a little hotter than the late afternoon sun soaking through the fabric of my top.
But I ignored that. Any attraction I felt was simply out of place, and it would pass. It had to.
Even though he looked good when he lined up for a shot. And I sometimes stole an extra glance at the way his hands gripped the cart’s steering wheel, all tendons and knuckles and rough skin.
After this retreat, I’d tell him about Evie. The spelling bee would be over, and I wouldn’t risk throwing Evie off with this big revelation. The time would be right. I’d waited long enough.
Once Cole knew about my— our —daughter, everything would change, so there was no use in indulging pointless fantasies. The long-dormant embers that had first flared to bring us together were throwing out the last gasp of heat they possessed. Whatever lust I felt was a dying, desperate thing. That was all. It would be over soon.
“Well, I have to say, Carrie, I’m impressed,” Chuck said as we pulled up in front of the clubhouse.
I wiped the sweat from my brow below my visor and flashed him a smile. “That was fun.”
“We trounced you,” Ted pointed out. And of course they had—I wasn’t stupid enough to try to win a game of golf against the chairman and vice chairman of the board. I’d learned that lesson with Mr. Wentworth too.
“You did,” I admitted. “But I won the unofficial competition Cole and I had against each other.” I waved my scorecard for emphasis, smiling.
“Keep gloating,” Cole warned, but his lips tugged into one of those rare, delighted smiles that sometimes flashed over his face. He went from brooding and magnetic to utterly irresistible.
But resisting was imperative. I shrugged, nonchalant, like his smiles had no effect on me. “I intend to gloat until at least Q1 next year.”
Chuck guffawed. “I like her,” he said, pointing at me. “Keep her around, son.”
I smiled, even though something inside me died at those words. He wouldn’t keep me around. Our days were numbered—they had to be.
Knowing that was my cue to exit, I smiled and made my excuses, grabbed my purse, and walked toward the main resort building. The sound of jogging footsteps behind me alerted me to my boss’s approach.
“You could have warned me you were a shark,” he said, slowing to walk beside me.
I shot him a glance. “You could have been less condescending.”
He tilted his head in acquiescence.
“Your dad seems nice,” I said, when the silence stretched a bit too long. “I’m glad you ended up reconnecting with him.” I added hastily, “Not that that’s any of my business?—”
“No, it is,” Cole said. “After our…conversation”—he cleared his throat—“I worked up the guts to reach out to him. You gave me the push I needed to do it.”
I felt his gaze on the side of my face, and every speck of self-preservation inside me forced me to keep my eyes forward. “Now you’re just flattering me.”
He snorted. “I don’t flatter people for no reason, Carrie.”
I loved the way he said my name. I wished I didn’t, because it made me remember how it felt to be in his arms. It made me yearn for the feel of his palms sweeping down my sides, for that intense, bright, burning connection we’d shared so long ago for so short a time .
The past seven years had been lonely. I’d been treading water, trying to keep Evie and myself afloat with nothing but sheer will. Those years had calcified my determination and my independence, had given me the gift of a wonderful daughter.
But I’d been alone.
And now I stood in the sunshine at a beautiful resort, with the man who’d featured in all my naughtiest dreams walking beside me, and I felt my loneliness so keenly my bones ached.
“If you don’t mind me asking,” I started, tearing my thoughts away from where they’d wandered, “how did your first meeting with your father go? Was it hard?”
Cole huffed. “Yeah, it was hard. He was skeptical at first. I guess I’m not the first person to approach him as a long-lost son.”
“Rich people problems,” I mumbled.
Laughing, Cole tilted his head to agree. “But after I sent through the adoption documents and the photo of my birth mother holding me in the hospital, he agreed to meet with me. That’s when I found out that my birth mother had passed, and he’d poured all his grief and energy into his business.”
“And he offered you a job?”
Cole grinned. “It wasn’t that easy. At the time, he was the director of the company. But yeah. He’d always wanted to keep it in the family, but he never remarried. So I think he wanted to give me a chance, even if it ended up blowing up in his face.”
“Which it didn’t.”
“No,” he said, something strange in his voice. “It didn’t.”
We walked in silence, with the sound of the wind in the palm trees and the twittering of birds around us. In the distance, the surf crashed against the beach in a steady rhythm.
“What about you?” Cole asked. “How did the past seven years treat you? Did you ever get your mom’s stuff back?”
A lance of sadness pierced my breastbone, but I hid the hurt as best I could. “No,” I told him. “Never got any of it back. And the past seven years probably weren’t as kind to me as they were to you.”
“No?”
“I didn’t end up with a wealthy family and a meteoric career ascension.”
He laughed, the sound buttery and warm. I wanted to live in that laugh, wrap it all around me every day.
Silly desires from my silly mind.
He wasn’t just my hot boss. He wasn’t just a wealthy, attractive man that I felt an undeniable connection to.
He was my child’s father. He didn’t know it yet, but he had the power to blow up my entire life.
“And did your ex come crawling back to you?” he asked, flicking me a quick glance.
“My ex?”
“The one you broke up with right before…” He let the words dangle, but we both knew what he meant.
“He reached out,” I admitted, “but I wasn’t interested. There hasn’t been much time for dating these past few years.”
“No?” His tone was carefully neutral.
We were approaching the vast back patio of the resort. A few bistro tables were set out in front of huge, double-height French doors, with a handful of guests sipping drinks in the late afternoon sunshine.
Before me, two paths opened up. I could continue indulging my attraction to my boss and make my own life more difficult as a result. Or I could give him a kernel of truth and prepare myself for the eventual end of this…whatever this was between us. Camaraderie. Flirtation. Chemistry.
I chose option two, and I explained, “No, not much time for dating when you’re a single mom. Tends to scare off most eligible bachelors and attract the ones that you need to avoid.”
My boss’s steps stumbled on the corner of a raised tile. He caught himself, then looked over at me. “Single mom?—?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I have a daughter.”
“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Congratulations. That’s—wow.”
His steps were stiff, the distance between us increasing. Good. It was best to start setting better boundaries between us, to make sure we both knew where we stood.
We would never be together. Whatever existed between us was the remnant of one night of sizzling chemistry. Nothing more.
“She’s great,” I said, and I meant it. “I always wanted kids, you know? Not—I mean, if I’d had the choice, I would’ve had a husband and a white picket fence, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything.”
“And the father…?”
We were approaching the doors, a gust of cold from the air conditioning inside raising goosebumps on my arms. I could blurt it out right now. I could tell him he was the father. Rip the Band-Aid off.
Maybe it was cowardice that stayed my tongue, the desire to bask in his presence for just a little bit longer. So all I said was, “He’s never been in the picture.”
We stepped inside and faced each other. Cole’s eyes were dark as they met mine, searching. Evie’s eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he finally said.
“It was for the best,” I told him, and I meant it. I jabbed a thumb over my shoulder. “I should check in to my room and get organized. I still have a bunch of work to do before the rest of the team gets here tomorrow.”
“Sure,” Cole said, taking a step back. Then he glanced behind me.
“Baby!” a voice cried out a moment before his gorgeous, tall, blonde fiancée stepped around me and wrapped her long, graceful arms around his neck. “You made it.” She kissed him on the lips, a little peck of greeting that looked as natural as breathing.
I watched Cole’s hands circle her waist. “Just played golf with your dad,” he told her.
“That explains the outfit,” she said, tugging at the collar of his golf shirt he’d changed into while I was raiding the pro shop. She turned to look at me, head tilting. “And did your assistant play too?”
I smiled, secretly gritting my teeth at not being spoken to directly when I was standing right here. “They needed a fourth, and I was volunteered for the job by Mr. Christianson’s father.”
“Oh. How fun.” Her smile was sharp .
“It was a beautiful afternoon,” I answered. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a lot of work to do. Goodbye.” I nodded, spun around, and hurried toward the front of the building, where hopefully an employee would be able to officially check me in and show me to my room.
Letting out a deep breath, I ignored the gurgling, burning acid in my stomach.
He wasn’t mine. He would never be mine.
It was silly to feel heartbroken about a future that was never meant to happen, so I shoved those feelings deep down into the darkest part of my heart, and I focused on getting myself to my room.
It was about time I called my daughter, anyway. Her smiling face would cure me of these feelings. She’d remind me of what really mattered, not what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.