25. JT
Chapter twenty-five
JT
“Outside of about twenty minutes of putting, I don’t know if I’ve ever golfed with a woman except you,” I say.
After a full day yesterday spent in bed and in each other’s arms, Lila suggested we come out and play golf to get out of the house for a bit. I wasn’t a huge fan of the suggestion, mostly because leaving the cocoon of our little house felt unsafe—like everything that had happened the last day and a half could be exposed as a dream in the harsh light of day. It also might be because I can’t stand it when I’m not touching Lila. I don’t think I went more than five minutes yesterday without touching at least some part of her body. Even as we lounged in the living room, talking about our pirate book, reading out loud some of our favorite lines, she was either in my lap or snuggled against my side. Unless we were testing out some of the spicier passages, that is.
This utter infatuation is a completely new feeling for me, and when I realized I may be entering into clinger status, I agreed to play eighteen with her. I also desperately need to spend time working on my game before my tournament back this weekend.
Lila is standing on the tee box of WBCC’s second hole. Her dark hair is pulled into a high ponytail that my fist is begging to have wrapped around it, and she has on a black golf skirt that hugs the muscular curves of her ass as she takes a practice swing. I watch with fascination as she brings her club back around, executing an all-but-perfect-looking swing.
Every fiber of my being wants me to find something wrong with her form so I can step up behind her and “show her the right way to do it,” but leave it to Lila Walker to have such a technically perfect swing that I can’t find something to correct.
Actually, now that I think of it, her swing doesn’t have to be bad for me to help her with it. She might call me out on my true motives, but I’m beginning to realize just how much fun verbally sparring with her really is.
“That can’t possibly be true,” she says, turning around to face me as she stands with her weight on the driver in her right hand.
“Well, I assure you I’ve never been golfing with my mom.” I hold up a finger for some reason and choose to overlook the slightly pitying crease that pulls at the corner of her eyes. “I’ve also never taken a date golfing.” I hold up a second finger. “So yeah…it literally might’ve been since the last time you tagged along that I actually played golf with anyone of the female persuasion.”
“Ew. Don’t say ‘female persuasion.’”
I laugh and pull her into me, resting my chin on her head as I wrap my arms around her waist.
“And, what about in college, didn’t you have to golf with the girls’ team then?”
I scoff. “No. We were two fully separate teams.” She tilts her head up, butting my chin to let me know what she thought of my slightly scornful tone. “Not that they weren’t great, it’s just not how it worked.”
“And you, a professional golfer, have never once taken someone out on a date to the golf course?” she asks, suspicion lacing her tone. “Was your twenty minutes of putting at Putt-Putt? It feels like a natural way for you to go about picking up women.”
I lean down and kiss the top of her head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Pipsqueak, but I don’t usually have to put that level of work into picking up women. And I’ve never wanted to spend much time with them outside of the bedroom.”
“You're such a pig,” she laughs, shoving me away.
I let her think she’s escaped before grabbing her arm and pulling her back into a tight hug. “I want to deny it, but I probably am. But in the nicest way. I’ve never led anyone on or gotten into a situation where the woman I was with thought we were going to turn into anything more than a fun night or two.”
“How Jameo got painted as the womanizer while you walk around with a reputation for being the golden boy of golf is beyond me.”
At the mention of her brother, I flinch slightly. I know I’m trying to give Jameson the benefit of the doubt, but I’m terrified how this is going to impact my friendship.
“Speaking of Jameo,” I say, and Lila buries her face in my chest, groaning.
“Do we have to speak of him?”
“I mean, I’d rather not, but also, yes. It feels like the responsible thing to do.”
“Okay. Well…since you brought it up…why don’t you share your thoughts first?” she suggests.
I twist my baseball cap backward, and Lila chuckles at my outward sign of nerves. She twirls one of the curls at the base of my neck around her fingers.
“You don’t look terrible with your hat like that,” she says, pressing up on her toes to skim her lips across mine.
Thank goodness we don’t have to worry about anyone needing to play this hole right now. Most of the club members prefer to start their rounds early—unlike me and Lila, who are just getting started.
“Was that a compliment?” I tease, tightening my arms around her to lock my mouth against hers. We make out for a few minutes, my body hardening under her featherlight touch as she explores my chest and arms. When my length presses against her hip, I pull back.
“Okay, probably inappropriate to fuck you on the tee box.”
“Wildly inappropriate, JT.” Lila smirks. “Everyone knows the back nine is the only proper place to fuck someone on a golf course.”
“Is that why the pace of play is always slower on the second half?” I tease.
“Well, that and the fact that regular people have had multiple beers, not enough water, and hours out in the sun by the time they get there.”
“And then some poor schmucks choose to lose even more fluids?” I ask. “Risky.”
“I don’t think they’d classify themselves as poor schmucks.”
“I know I won’t if that’s what is in store for me this afternoon.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes.
“Anyway,” Lila says, heading back to her teed-up ball. “Tell me what you’re thinking about how we handle my brother.”
She executes a beautiful backswing, her toned legs shifting and muscles flexing as she hits the ball, and the drive is straight down the fairway. It doesn’t have the same length as the women on the ladies’ tour, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on how good she is. How good she looks in golf clothes doesn’t hurt either.
I think about the question of how to handle her brother. My primary thought is that we just don’t tell him, but I’m worried that will offend Lila…and it’s maybe a bit na?ve.
“Well, we both agree we are ending this when he comes back and we aren’t roommates anymore, right?”
“Right,” she says, swinging her golf bag on her shoulders as we start walking down the fairway to her ball. It’s a bit awkward to walk next to someone when you’re both wearing golf bags that stick out to either side of you, but we stagger a bit to make it work.
“So, I don’t love the idea of telling him something that might be weird for us all when it won’t even be an issue by the time he’s back.”
“Makes sense.” Lila shifts her hand, placing it on the heads of her clubs to keep them from rattling as we walk.
I continue, voicing my concerns with not telling him. “That said, I'm worried about the gossip in Wild Bluffs getting back to him. He'd be mad we didn’t tell him. I mean, shit, even the staff just casually mentioning we went golfing together while he was away would be a shocking revelation for him.”
Lila chuckles lightly. “True, and I’m beginning to learn there is no such thing as a secret in Wild Bluffs. And, while Jameo might not be as connected to the local gossip, Bryn sure is.”
“Exactly. So”—I blow out a deep breath—“I’m not sure what to do.”
We reach Lila’s ball, and I help her figure out the yardage to the green so she can choose the appropriate club. She hits one of her hybrids, and the ball lands about twenty yards off the front of the green.
She slides the club back into her bag, and we make our way toward my ball. If I were golfing in a tournament or with one of my buddies, I wouldn’t be walking with her to each of her shots, but it feels kinda intimate spending this time with her.
“I’m leaning toward not telling him and trying to keep it a secret, but I also know I’m one hundred percent not going to be able to keep it a secret…and the only people I know in this town are Bryn’s sisters.”
“They seem like people who can keep secrets…don’t they?” I ask, unable to contain the hint of worry in my voice.
“Kelsey most certainly can. Izzy, I have my doubts. I think we have to assume whatever she knows, Becca also knows, for sure. But I do trust her. She could likely be persuaded not to outright tell Bryn or Jameson anything. We would certainly have to keep it from the town at large. No PDA both in town and on the course…” She trails off, looking around. “Well, I mean, at least in the public spaces on the course. I’d think the back nine is still safe.” She winks at me, and I have the urge to tackle her and show her just how unwilling I am to wait another seven holes to publicly display my affection.
“Okay. That seems like a fairly solid plan,” I say instead. “No PDA in town or in the public areas of the golf course, which includes any holes people can see from the clubhouse or restaurant. We do everything we can to keep this from getting to Jameo, ever, in his entire life. The Harper sisters are safe to talk to if and only if they swear a vow of secrecy.” I’m not sure why I’m spending so much time defining these rules, but it does make it all seem safer. “Our house is obviously fair game, though we should probably make sure we are careful in the living room where people could see us. So no sex against the living room windows.”
“As those are mostly still covered with plywood, I think we will be safe. I don’t think people can see in, and I’m definitely not going to risk getting a splinter in my ass.”
Over eight hundred houses in and around Wild Bluffs had hail damage from the storm with over a thousand windows needing fully replaced, so we are still working with a lot of plywood-covered doors and windows out here. The golf course offered us rooms with northern-facing windows in the hotel portion of the club, but we both declined, assuring them we’re fine in the house.
“I forgot about the plywood. That is handy.” I waggle my eyebrows at her. “Lots of living room sexcapades, then.”
“You know when you say things like that it makes me want to punch you in the face, right?”
“Punch me in the face or sit on my face?”
“Punch. Definitely punch. Though I’ll never say no to the other option.”
“Now, then,” I say, and I drop my bag. I stalk toward her like she’s my prey, but she squeaks out a yell and runs away from me. I snag the back of her bag, pulling her small frame to a halt. “You said you’ll never say no. Ride my face, Pipsqueak.”
“JT Johnson, that is back nine behavior. Get it together, man,” she chides, but I can see the fire that is lighting up her eyes.
Fuck, this is going to be the best month of my life.