Chapter 36
My eyes were locked on the ball sitting on the tee on the eighteenth hole.
I readjusted my stance just slightly, taking three half-millimeter steps forward, then flexed my fingers around the club to fix my grip.
I blew out a slow breath, keeping my left arm straight and rotating my hips as I reached the top of my backswing before throwing all I could into the downswing.
As soon as the club made contact, I knew and let out a loud growl. “You motherfucker!”
I watched the ball sail rogue, going too far to the right and landing in the fucking bunker in the goddamn rough. I tossed my club, knowing exactly what that meant, knowing there was no way I’d come back from that shot.
“I…I won! Holy shit!” Chad laughed maniacally. “I actually beat you!”
As he continued to celebrate his first and only win against me in a decade by hopping around like a goddamn unhinged jackrabbit, I laced my fingers behind my head and attempted to walk it off.
I was usually a good sport and could take losing, but the sting of being defeated in a game of golf to someone who used to answer to Chainz and was known at our frequented course as Mulligan was almost too much to bear.
It hurt my soul.
I picked up the driver I’d thrown, mumbling obscenities as I walked to the cart and aggressively stuffed it back into my bag. “Are you fucking finished yet?” I spat.
Chad grinned as we got into the cart and headed back to the clubhouse. “I told you I was never going to let you forget the day when I finally beat you, and I meant it. I’ll be bringing this up for years to come.”
“Yeah, yeah. Mark it down in your calendar and remember this feeling. Because it will never happen again.”
I listened to a few more jibing remarks from Chad on the walk through the parking lot to our cars before finally pulling out of the golf course parking lot and heading home.
My head wasn’t in the game today. Hell, it wasn’t just today.
My head hadn’t been in anything the last few weeks, not since I finally allowed myself to acknowledge my feelings for Morgan.
They—she was all I could think about. At work.
With my friends. Family dinner. I was in a constant state of distraction.
After my crash out over the paper clips and the acknowledgment that followed, I didn’t reach out to ask her to meet up despite that craving for her I’d become conditioned to.
I was trying to give myself the space to sort through the slew of thoughts in my head.
We still saw each other on the nights out with everyone else, and things were normal—we’d find something to banter about or pretend to be ignoring each other in front of the others.
But I’d find myself staring at her as if I could see into her mind and what she was thinking, trying to sense if there was any reciprocation to what I was feeling.
But there was nothing. Nothing gave me any clue as to what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.
When she finally messaged me last Friday, I folded faster than a damn lawn chair. She was like a drug, an addiction I couldn’t seem to get enough of. And I denied myself my fix, so by the time she reached out, I was fiending. I was at her place within five minutes.
Yeah, I could man the hell up and tell Morgan how I felt, but this was uncharted territory for me.
And I couldn’t talk to my friends about it and get their advice because they would be shocked that I felt this way about someone at all and would interrogate me about who it was, and I couldn’t tell them.
They had no idea Morgan and I had been shaking sheets for nearly two years.
Jesus Christ.
Every time I thought about how long this had been going on, the more baffled I became at how we’d managed to keep it a secret.
Our friends would lose their minds if they knew.
Hell, it was so far-fetched that they probably wouldn’t even believe it.
They’d taken notice of our decline in bickering but bought the story that we were taking a semi-timeout on our open loathing for one another in support of Lucas’s and Callie’s future nuptials and not wanting it to ruin their moment.
Needless to say, I had to figure this out on my own.
And all I’d come up with so far was that I couldn’t tell Morgan.
Not yet. I needed to feel out the situation.
I needed to gauge if there was anything there on her end.
Because I’d be damned if the first time I ever felt this way about anyone was met with straight rebuff, which was what it was leaning toward right now.
Morgan had never given me any inclination that she felt anything for me other than annoyance and displeasure—outside of the bedroom, that is.
If this was all based on how I made her feel during sex, I’d be golden.
Unfortunately for me, that wasn’t the case.
So, for now, I was trying to act as if nothing had changed.
If there came a point where I felt like telling her would garner more than her laughing in my face and handing me a one-way ticket to Rejectionville, then I would.
And if that time never came, I’d let it go and forget it ever happened.
The latter would be easy.
I was staring at Morgan. Again. It was as if I had no control over the way my eyes would linger on her lately.
She’d come over after we left the bar from Saturday night out with the others, but she wasn’t staying the night because I had an early tee time with Lucas and Gabe in the morning.
So, I was lying in bed, watching her get dressed.
But I wasn’t simply admiring her soft skin and perfect curves as she slid her clothes on.
I was studying, trying to see through the veil she had in front of her eyes so I could see what was hidden behind them.
Not being able to gauge her was driving me crazy.
Because the more time I spent with her and the more moments we shared, the more I could feel myself falling.
This is why I never had any desire to do the whole feelings and attachment thing.
I’d seen how it affected people around me, the way one person could consume them, distract them, leave them obsessing.
It was exactly what was happening to me now.
I wanted to spend more time with her. I was constantly thinking about her, even when we weren’t together.
And questions I didn’t know I’d ever know the answers to plagued my thoughts.
Was there a possibility this was more than just sex for her?
Was there a chance that her feelings regarding me had shifted the way mine had?
Did she still look at me as nothing more than the arrogant asshole she used to, or had she seen different sides of me the way I had her that made her change her mind?
Because I’d come to realize that, beneath the surface, there was so much more to Morgan Hayes than I ever cared to look at before. And I wanted to keep looking. I wanted to dive beneath the waves and drown in every little thing that woman was.
And that terrified me as much as it thrilled me. I didn’t know what to make of any of it because it was like an untrodden landscape. I just knew I wanted more. To see her more. To have her more.
“What are you doing tomorrow night?” I asked as I slipped out of bed and grabbed my gym shorts, pulling them on.
Morgan looked at me as she fixed her shirt into place. “Nothing…why?”
“Do you want to come over after I get back from family dinner tomorrow?”
She smirked teasingly. “It’s been a while since we had two-in-a-row-nighter.”
“Yeah, well, something tells me I’ll be looking for a release.” More like I knew I was going to be craving her presence.
“Yeah,” she said, buttoning her jeans. “I’ll come over.”
I smiled. I was nearly thirty years old, and I fucking smiled like a schoolboy at the mere knowledge I was going to see her tomorrow.
“Okay, sounds like a plan,” I replied as nonchalantly as possible, following her out of my room and down the hall toward the door.
“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back. ”
“Okay.” She looked at me as she opened the door and smiled. “Bye.”
Then she was gone.
And I was so far gone and so fucked.
When I went to bed that night, my dreams were plagued with Morgan, which was really nothing new, but since acknowledging my feelings for her, those dreams took on new meaning.
By the time my alarm went off in the morning, I was feeling restless and already wishing it was later that night just so I could see her.
But I needed to focus. I had a game to win today.
Because I still needed a comeback after my devastating loss to Chad, which he still hadn’t shut up about.
The number of messages he sent me to remind me that he’d beaten me made me think he had nothing better to do with his time, and I started leaving him on read.
I met Lucas and Gabe at eight that morning for our tee time at the Bayport Country Club.
This time of morning was better because it was early August, and the sweltering heat could be intense.
That, and the area was flooded with tourists and summer stayers during that time, and we didn’t want to be held up on the course.
Our game started off as usual, and I was ahead a good few strokes by the time we reached the halfway mark at the ninth hole.
“So, I forgot to tell you last night. I saw Chad on Friday when I had court in Charleston,” Gabe said as we watched Lucas set himself up in the tee box. “He said he beat you in a golf game.”
Lucas stopped mid-backswing, letting out a surprised laugh as he looked back at me. “What?”
Count your fucking days, Chad. “I had an off day,” I snapped.
Gabe chuckled. “So, it’s true? I thought he was bullshitting me.”
“Yes, it’s true. He won by two little strokes because, again, I had an off day.”
“Wow…” Lucas smirked.
I narrowed my eyes. “Shut up and take your shot.” He laughed as he turned back to focus on the ball in front of him.
Gabe looked at me with a grin. “Losing isn’t the end of the world.”
“It’s not losing that pisses me off. It’s losing to Chad.”
Lucas came back to the cart after making his shot, slipping his club into his bag. “It was bound to happen eventually.”
“No. Don’t say that.”
They both laughed.
Gabe reached for his club in his bag for his shot but paused when his phone started ringing in his pocket; he pulled it out, looked at the screen, and then slid his thumb across it to answer before holding it up to his ear. “Hey, Ma. What’s—”
He went dead still and silent.
His eyes darted between me and Lucas, our brows furrowing in sudden concern, and when I watched the color slowly drain from his face, I got a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.
“Okay. Alright. I’ll be right there.”
I swore I saw his hand imperceptibly tremble when he lowered the phone from his ear. “What is it?” I asked.
He let out a breath, looking between the two of us again. “It…it’s Blake…”