Chapter Thirteen
Max
Bumper and I shoot the shit for a few minutes, while Sutton’s eyes do their best impression of lasers. She glares at me until I finally turn toward her. “Sutton Hart, this is Bumper Garrison. We went to LSU together.”
“How do you do, ma’am?” Bumper inclines his head. “You can call me Bobby. Nobody calls me bumper anymore.”
“I do.” I shrug, giving him a little jab in the ribs with my elbow. “Just doing my part to keep you humble.”
Sutton snorts and I focus on her. “Something you want to share with the class, Ms. Hart?”
She shakes her head, those amber eyes going dramatically wide. “No, I just figured, well…” She shrugs. “You’re probably the last person to keep anyone humble.”
Bumper whistles, then claps me on the back. “Shit, Cruz, I like this one. See you out on the course.” He turns away from me, his full attention on Sutton. Over his shoulder, she gives me one last glare and I think about all the ways I’d like to punish her when she comes back to the club.
If she comes back to the club.
The not knowing part has my head in a tailspin, questioning every word, every glance… hell, every touch. Did she play me? Had I been right to be wary of her?
Even more so than the not knowing is the guilt. It ate at me all night long. I tossed and turned—and damn near called her a handful of times before talking myself out of it.
If she truly doesn’t know it was me last night, she deserves to know.
I owe her honesty, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve fucked up.
Royally. The woman has my brain all jumbled up and I’ve never been so on edge.
It feels like the sky is pregnant, like that calm before a summer storm, when one moment it's sunny, then you blink and the skies open up in a downpour.
Skipping out before she could watch my scene unfold or begin the membership application process last night, could mean any number of things.
None of them good.
Maybe I overstepped, took things too far and scared her off.
Or perhaps she figured out it was me beneath that mask, after all, and lost her shit over my sin of omission.
By the time I pulled myself out of bed today I was a wreck.
Had I been right all along, and she’d discovered my secret, then set out to sabotage me? Like, once she’d collected enough information about my double life, she’d hurried home to call the tabloids and smear my name through the mud. Wouldn’t I have heard something by now? Is she playing a long game?
But that doesn’t explain why she allowed me to touch her.
Or why she came so beautifully for me.
Or why, even now, she’s acting like her usual self, with that smart mouth and looks that tell me she loathes how much she wants me—or at least pretends to loathe that fact.
I scrub my hand down my face because what the fuck. Women are confusing.
With one quick glance my way to make sure I’m watching, Sutton hops into the front passenger seat of the golf cart and Bumper settles in behind the wheel.
His kid and her assistant climb into the backseat.
It irks me that I didn’t get here early enough to adjust the match-ups and put us in a foursome together.
I hop into the driver’s seat, nearly bumping into Gray as he’s about to do the same.
“What the hell, bro?” he says, stepping quickly out of the way. “I thought I was driving?”
“Get in.” I motion to the front seat beside me then glance back at the women he brought to close out our foursome. “You two comin’?”
They hurry and climb into the back seat as Grays slides in beside me.
“This going to be a problem?”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Ignoring him, I watch Sutton pull out onto the cart path and head for the first hole. I pull out of the lineup, cutting off the cart that had been positioned between mine and Sutton’s.
“Like hell you don’t,” Grayson murmurs under his breath.
“Apex Athletics?” One of the tournament organizers approaches the cart. She scans her clipboard as she says, “Mr. Cruz, correct, and Mr. Cross?’ She points behind us. “You’re supposed to be in the fourth spot, back—”
“Can you switch up the tee times?” Grayson asks before I have the chance to. “Pretty please?”
He may give me shit about my obsession with Sutton, but he’ll always have my back.
“Um, sure, I guess so.”
She hands the scoresheet to Gray and motions for us to go ahead.
“Pull up to the starting line, and wait your turn.” She continues going over the rules, but I’ve participated in enough charity golf tourneys to know the deal.
Quickly thanking her, I pull ahead, ignoring the usual etiquette and pulling right up to Sutton’s cart.
She looks back at me over her shoulder and shakes her head, but I catch the slightest tilt of her lips, so I ease my foot onto the gas and gently bump into her cart, just to remind her how much she pretends to dislike me.
I can’t help myself; I love when she’s pissy.
Everyone else in the cart looks back at me, but Sutton’s eyes remain forward. When the starter whistle blows, she takes off.
And I closely follow.
“Aren’t we supposed to wait our turn?” one of the girls in the back asks.
“Normally, yes, but Max is in love.”
Silence follows that statement and I don’t have to look at the two women in the backseat to realize they hoped this foursome might go further than a round of charity golf.
But Sutton was more on point than she realized. I am spoken for.
She just hasn’t accepted the fact that she’s the lucky lady yet.
Coming up to the turn, I’m seven over par, which isn’t my best score by a longshot, but I’ve been distracted.
At least my ball hasn’t landed in the drink like the brunette in our foursome.
I was under the impression Gray paired us up with these two because they could actually play, but now I’m thinking he just liked the way they looked.
Fair enough, but I imagine that’s Sasha who’s been blowing up his phone all morning, and by the looks of things, she’s not happy about something. I haven’t been posting pics or anything, but at a tourney of this size, anyone else could have.
Gray grunts and I look over at him as I crack open a cold beer. “All good?”
He scowls at his cell, then opens the little glove box and tosses the device inside. Shooting me a glare, he snaps, “Don’t ask.”
Laughing, I raise my hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Another grunt is the response I get, but then he narrows his eyes at something past me. “You gonna step in?” He jerks his head toward the eighth hole and I follow his gaze as Bumper positions himself behind Sutton, wrapping his arms around her to help her with her swing.
Again
My jaw clenches, but I shake my head. “The dude’s a golf pro.”
Gray snorts. “He’s also recently divorced.”
My teeth grind.
“Good looking guy. Successful. On the rebound.”
I bite back a grunt. “I can’t just walk onto the tee box and interfere. I’ll look like an idiot.”
Gray says nothing, just turns and walks to the back of the cart to grab his flask out of his golf bag, leaving me to watch as Bumper gets up close and personal with my girl.
Garrison finally steps back and she swings, knocking the ball with a newfound confidence I haven’t seen in the first seven holes. I follow the ball as it soars through the air and lands in the fairway, a straight, beautiful shot. I whistle loudly and all eyes swivel toward me.
“You know we’re not on the same team as them, right?” one of the girls whispers, and they both giggle.
“Nice shot,” I say to Sutton as she strides back toward us.
She grins, then looks at Garrison. “I have a good teacher.”
Oh hell no.
They climb into the cart, and off they go.
Biting back a growl of frustration, I grab my ball and my 9-iron, then stride onto the tee box, lining myself up for the shot. It’s a par 3 with a hundred-forty-five-yard stretch. A straight shot down the fairway. Should be easy enough.
I swing the iron a few times, then lift it back behind my head and get ready to drive the ball home—
Familiar laughter carries to me on the breeze and I look up ahead as I swing, losing concentration because what could Bumper have possibly said that was so funny?
The crack of the club against the ball reminds me of what I’m doing and I snap back to it as my ball careens far and wide, arcing to the left.
It smacks into the roof of Sutton’s golf cart with a loud, hollow thwack, then bounces off, nearly hitting Bumper in the head as he climbs out.
Gray snorts. “Nicely done.”
Bumper throws his hands up in the air. I wince and offer up a wave, then laugh when I realize my ball bounced off their cart and landed on the green. If I’m lucky, that’ll be one stroke to the hole, bringing my score down to six over par.
“Guess that’s one way to get her attention.”
Shaking my head, I swipe Gray’s flask from him and take a sip. “I have her attention.”
“Do you?” He cocks one eyebrow, but doesn’t prod me further.
“You gonna tee off?”
Gray chuckles, then leans against the cart. “Think I’ll wait until the team in front of us is off the green.”
Rolling my eyes, I find a spot that gives me a decent view of Sutton, then watch as Bumper once again steps up behind her to help her swing.
“This fucking guy.”