Chapter 42 – Remington
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Cesar’s nipples
Remington
“Are you excited about the tournament?” Mindy asks as we put away our laptops and stow them in the storage closet of my family’s private jet.
We spent most of the flight working. I wasn’t lying when I told her things gear up in January.
In addition to the end of quarter and end of year finance reports, we’ve also been busy reviewing the marketing campaigns Phoenix and his team have come up with for the new year.
Mindy is simply invaluable to me. She has a sharp eye and isn’t afraid to share her opinions. She even caught an error on one of the spreadsheets I’d somehow overlooked.
“I am. I’ve never met Chandler Wharton before, so it will be cool to get to play with him.”
The pilot’s voice interrupts the soft background music over the sound system. “Attention guests and crew. We’ll be descending into Florida in about twenty minutes. Please finalize any activities now and prepare for landing. And as always, thank you for flying Hale Air.”
Mindy lifts an eyebrow at me. “Hale Air?”
I chuckle. “That’s one of Captain Dubois’s little jokes. She thinks she’s funny.”
“She has a great personality. I guess I expected a pilot to be more solemn or something.”
Taking down our small suitcases, I set them on the cabin floor. “Don’t let that fool you. Eliora Dubois is a bona fide badass. She was a highly-decorated Air Force captain before retiring.” I lift the handle of Mindy’s suitcase and slide it toward her. “You can go change first if you want.”
“Thanks,” she replies, heading off with her hot-pink case dragging behind her. Her larger matching suitcase is stored below. She told me earlier the entire set was a Christmas gift from her aunt since luggage was one of the things she no longer owned after leaving her idiot husband.
Well, ex-husband now since her divorce went through a couple weeks ago.
Mindy returns a few minutes later looking like a goddamn dream in a short white skirt, teal polo, and pristine white sneakers with her red hair pulled up into a thick ponytail at the crown of her head.
“This is okay for the golf course, right?” she asks, startling me from thoughts of wrapping those locks around my fist while I pull her head back to give my mouth access to her neck.
I clear the gravel from my throat. “Yep, looks great.”
By the time the plane descends, I’ve also changed into a navy collared shirt, khaki golf shorts, and a blue Ping cap. “So you’re just playing a practice round today?” she asks from the seat beside me.
“Yes, Chandler, Auburn, and Cesar are meeting us there.” I cast her a sidelong look. “You don’t have to come today if you don’t want to. We have some work to do this evening, so Antonio can drive you to the hotel if you want to just relax during the day.”
She shakes her head, bouncing her ponytail around her shoulders. “No, I’d like to come watch you. I’ll bring my laptop and check emails or whatever.”
As soon as the plane touches down, I turn on my phone, surprised to see multiple texts from Auburn and Cesar. Checking the first one, my heart sinks.
“What’s wrong?” Antonio asks, on high alert across from me.
“There’s a snowstorm in the Northeast, and Bouvier’s plane can’t take off,” I answer miserably. “They’re predicting it won’t be until tomorrow.”
“But the tournament starts tomorrow,” Mindy frets.
I blow out an aggrieved sigh and flip through Cesar’s messages. “Yeah, I know. Cesar is trying to find a replacement player at the last minute.”
“What about Simmons?” Antonio asks, unbuckling his seat belt.
“He tore his Achilles playing pickleball,” I reply. “Just had surgery a couple weeks ago.”
“No, the other Simmons.”
I shake my head. “He’s in Italy for his anniversary.”
While the crew unloads our baggage and places it into the sleek black SUV I rented from a private company, I scroll through the contacts in my phone, texting no fewer than fifteen people who could possibly fill in for the fashion tycoon.
The majority of them are still on extended holiday vacations at various places in the world, none of which happen to be Florida. “Shit, this is a nightmare,” I mumble as the SUV rumbles out of the hangar.
“What about Antonio?” Mindy suggests, and my driver lets out a bellowing laugh from the driver’s seat.
“Oh, lass, he’d do better to get a chimpanzee to fill in. I’m a terrible golfer.”
“He is,” I agree. “I’ve tried to teach him, but he’s hopeless. He shot a 149 the last time I got him on the links.”
Mindy covers her mouth with her hand but is unable to hide her giggle. “That is bad. Maybe we can stop by the zoo on the way and check out their chimp selection.”
He winks at her in the rearview, not the least bit offended by her teasing, and I smile a little at the interaction. Antonio is quite taken by Mindy, not in a sexual way… more like a fatherly vibe, though he’s not quite old enough to be her father.
I message and call more guys I know, even those who aren’t the best golfers because I’m feeling desperate at this point. Absolutely no one is available.
Cesar and Chandler meet us at the front door to the country club when we arrive. I put my disappointment on the backburner for now and introduce myself to the famous golfer.
“So pleased to meet you. I’ve been watching your career since you were in college. I’m a huge fan.”
He grins an easy smile and shakes my hand.
“I’m a fan of yours, as well. Actually, my sister is.
She loves Hale’s products. She’s going to freak out when I tell her I met the infamous Remington Hale.
” From the gleeful look on his face, I can tell he’s going to happily rub that in his sister’s face for the foreseeable future.
“Get me her info, and I’ll send her our entire spring line. Production should be finalized next week.”
Mindy pulls out her ever-present notebook and takes down Chandler’s sister’s name and address.
“This is Mindy Espinoza, my executive assistant,” I tell him and Cesar. Both men give her a quick appraisal and shake her hand, though Chandler’s greeting lingers long enough to have deep furrows forming in my forehead.
He’s blond, tall, and wiry, with a mustache that should be douchey, but it seems all the ladies love it. Beneath his stupid facial hair, he flashes a grin that radiates half All-American boy and half I can get any woman I want.
“Okay,” I say gruffly, interrupting his appraisal of my… employee. “Have either of you had any luck finding anyone to replace Bouvier?”
“I haven’t,” Cesar says, looking as miserable as I feel. “Chandler has a call in to Sandra Dearling though. Sandra’s still in college, but she’s the number one player in the SEC right now.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard of her,” I muse. “When do you—”
I’m cut off when Chandler’s phone rings, and he holds up a finger to us as he answers. “Sandra, hey. Did you get my message? Oh… Well, damn…” His face falls, along with my stomach. “Alright, I guess I’ll see you in a little bit. Thanks for calling me back.”
Hanging up, he faces us with defeat on his face. “Turns out, Sandra’s already playing in this tournament. She’s on Ryan O’Neill’s team.”
“Hate that guy,” Cesar mutters. “Anyone else have any ideas? We have to forfeit if we don’t have a fourth.”
Mindy raises her hand like she’s waiting for the teacher to call on her in class. “Um, women can be on your team?” Now she has everyone’s attention.
“Of course,” I answer instantly. “Do you play?”
Her nose wrinkles. “It’s been years, but I really don’t know if I’m good enough to play in this tournament.”
“It’s fine,” Chandler says smoothly. “We basically just need a warm body.” The wink he gives her makes me want to slap that mustache right off his face.
Cesar nods eagerly. “Right. Don’t even worry about your score. We just don’t want to have to forfeit. And it’s for a good cause. The, uh…” He glances around at all of us, his voice hopeful when he asks, “The wetlands?”
“It’s for Boys & Girls Clubs of America, you nimrod,” I correct none too gently.
“Right,” he says, snapping his fingers. “Well, I was close.”
For fuck’s sake. Turning to Mindy, I lower my voice and take a step closer to her. “Would you mind playing with us? I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
She gnaws on her thumbnail. “I don’t have any clubs or anything.”
Chandler inserts himself into the conversation, roving his gaze up and down Mindy’s body. I’m about to pull a Three Stooges move and poke him in the eyeballs when he says, “There’s a female golf pro who’s about your height. Want me to see if you can borrow her clubs?”
“I guess. I really don’t want to screw this up for you guys.”
Squeezing her arm, I say, “Hey, we came all this way, and it would be a shame if we didn’t even get the chance to hit the links. It will be fine.” I attempt to infuse some confidence into my tone. I’ve pretty much given up on my hopes of winning this thing, but I still damn well want to play.
Fifteen minutes later, we’re all at the driving range. Jackie, the golf pro, was happy to loan her brand-new set of Callaways and even offered to be Mindy’s caddy tomorrow.
“Okay,” I say as Mindy steps up to the ball. “Now, you’re going to want to hold your club—” She grips it, and my eyebrows lift. “Exactly like that. And your feet need to be—” She adjusts, and I no longer have any visible eyebrows because they’re now in my hairline. “Okay, that’s… perfect.”
Everyone holds their breath as Mindy pulls into a flawless backswing and then brings her club forward, hitting the ball squarely with a resounding thwack.
Jackie whistles through her teeth as the ball flies high and really fucking far. “Damn, woman. That had to be at least 250 yards.”
“Not gonna lie,” Cesar mutters, leaning sideways into my space. “That made my nipples hard.” I choke on my own saliva and shove him with my shoulder.
Mindy turns around, teeth biting her bottom lip, which, in turn, makes my nipples hard. “Sorry, I’m a little rusty.”