Chapter Fifteen
Max
Shortly after the Garrisons left, Sutton’s cousin, Gray, and the girls decided they were over the game, leaving us to finish the round on foot.
Which is fine by me; I could use the time to blow off some steam.
We both have miserable scores, but I stopped counting and I’m really just here so she can play through.
I walk beside Sutton to the final hole, both golf bags slung over my shoulders because even though my stubborn girl insisted she could carry her own golf bag, she was unable to pry it from my shoulder.
I’ll take my small victories where I can get them.
She hasn’t said a word to me since the others left, but she side-eyes me as we walk and I know her well enough to know that something’s on her mind.
“Out with it,” I say as we reach the eighteenth hole.
Sutton sighs. “Okay, listen, I don’t like men who act like boys, and I really don’t appreciate caveman behavior.”
I cock an eyebrow.
She takes off her sunglasses, so I do the same, instantly locked in those gorgeous amber eyes of hers.
“But I appreciate what you did for me back there.”
My eyebrows creep slowly up my forehead.
Is this a Sutton Hart thank you?
Sutton’s eyes narrow like she’s reading my thoughts. “So… I guess what I’m trying to say is thank you.”
My lips quirk up into a smirk. “That looked painful. You good?”
“Oh my god.” She rolls her eyes, then motions for me to drop her bag so she can grab a club. “You’re insufferable.”
“Perhaps.”
She selects a club and strides for the tee box, her mini-skort doing incredible things for her ass.
Normally, I’d try to be less of a caveman, but I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her plump rear end and those smooth legs all damn day.
And now that Bumper Garrison isn’t blocking the view or pissing me right the hell off, I drink in my fill.
She lines up for the shot, pulling the club back over her shoulders—
“You need any help with that swing?” I call out.
Thwack!
She shanks the ball and it flies toward the clubhouse.
I grimace, watching it hurtle toward the restaurant’s patio filled with people, but it lands in a duck pond just to the side of the terrace with a splash that sends three mallards flying, drawing the attention of the nearby diners.
Who break out into a round of applause.
When my eyes return to Sutton, she’s staring daggers at me, hands on her hips.
“Close one,” I say, pretending to swipe sweat off my forehead.
Trying to hide my smile, I grab our bags and follow her as she stalks off toward the clubhouse.
By the time we’ve checked-in with tournament organizers, dropped our clubs off in the locker room, and returned to the restaurant, the place is packed with Sunday brunchers. We spot Anderson, Gray, and the two girls he brought along for the game sitting around a table in the back corner.
Only one empty chair remains.
Sutton shakes her head as she looks over at me. “Looks like you’re going to have to wait for a table.”
She strides off toward our group and I follow closely behind.
I’m not that easy to get rid of; she should know that by now.
She plops down into the last remaining chair, and I scan the room for another option, then just squat between her and her cousin.
“Max,” Sutton says. “Be serious.”
“Hm? About what?”
“You can’t sit like that for the entire meal.”
I look around, then down at my lap and pat my thighs. “I have strong legs.”
Sutton’s chest rises on a deep breath, then she waves a dismissive hand at me. “Suit yourself.”
Across the table, one of the women leans toward Gray and whispers, “Is that her?”
Gray snorts. “The one and only.”
Beside me, Sutton shifts in her seat, then swivels her head toward me. “Care to explain?”
I flash her a smile and her lips twitch. “Gray told them I’m in love with you.”
She sighs. “Oh, for Pete’s sake.” Sutton pushes her seat back and stands. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a drink.”
I start to rise to my feet but she shoots me a glare. “Alone.”
Forcing a pout, I wait for her to reach the bar before settling into her vacated seat.
One of the women whispers to her friend, then looks at me. “I don’t think she likes you.”
Gray and Anderson both snort, and I take the latter’s response as a really good sign.
Grinning, I stretch my arms and lean back in the chair. “She’ll come around.”