Chapter 6
Lou: Round two. Let’s see if they learned anything from last time.
Chuck: Judging by that awkward eye contact? Nope.
Lou: I don’t know. He’s standing a little closer this time.
Chuck: Yeah, but she’s gripping her drink like it’s a weapon.
“Such a fan of your game, Mr. Morrison,” the gentleman says as he hands me his favorite golf glove. “I really appreciate you taking the time to sign my glove.”
“It’s my pleasure, truly.” Sel leans into me, handing me a black Sharpie. I pop off the cap and sign Clint Morrison on the top of his glove. When I hand it back to him he holds his hand out, and I grasp it and give it a firm shake. “You play at the Mossy Oaks Golf Club…?”
My words linger before he replies, “William, and yes, yes I do.”
“Well, if you catch me at the course, join me for a tee time.”
His shock is evident as he exclaims, “Really?”
“Of course! I look forward to it. You and your lovely wife have a good rest of your day,” I reply, nodding my head as he gives my hand one more shake.
“I really didn’t think I would garner so much attention. Is it just me or have people been staring?” I may have formed it as a question, but it feels more like a statement to me.
“What do you mean, fool?” Sel bumps her shoulder into me.
“That was the sixth person to stop me since being back. Besides, the entire time we were in the coffee shop it felt like there were eyes on me.”
She raises one eyebrow at me. “I know you aren’t still focused on that coffee shop. It was days ago.”
“Yeah, well, it was the best damn coffee I’ve had, and now I wonder if I should go back.”
“Hello, did you forget who you are in all of your”—she waves her hands around my entire body, making a scene of it—“you-ness?”
I stare at her blankly before I roll my eyes, pushing her away from me. “That isn’t even a word, Sel.”
“Did it come out of my mouth?” She tilts her head my way. “Then it’s a word.”
“You didn’t even let me answer.”
“No point in it. Facts are facts. So again, have you forgotten who you are? You are a professional golfer, a famous one. Your face has been in more magazines than I can count, and you’re back home. People are going to notice you.”
It brings me such a deep sense of pride realizing my cousin sees me in such a light.
I’ve never been approached at home, no more than a simple hello.
But so much of my career has changed in the years since I left.
I was a great pro golfer here but it was still states based.
It wasn’t until I went overseas when my career really picked up.
“Maybe you’re right.”
“Let’s go out later,” she says, and I laugh, hard.
“Go out?” My confusion is evident from my tone and the way my face is screwed up. “I’m not some kid anymore, Selene.”
“That’s too damn bad. There is this really cute bar, and they have dancing happening tonight.
I think we should go.” Sel notices I’m giving her the stank eye and doubles down.
“Please, Clint. It’s been way too long, and honestly, you need a wingwoman!
You know what? We’re going. Let’s go to Lakeshore Shoppes before everything closes. You need something to wear.”
“My clothes are fine.”
“They are just fine. And plain. How are you going to find a woman in that?” Selene waves her arm up and down my body, and I consider her for a moment.
There’s one woman I want, and I hope she’s still here in Cypress Lake.
Paloma never seemed to mind my frequent polos, but maybe switching it up wouldn’t be so bad.
My cousin continues, “You know what? Hush!” Before I can say anything further she drags me to her car, one I need to fold myself into like I’m fresh laundry because it’s so small, but I make it work.
“Besides, we can check out the music store next to it, see if they have the elusive Biggie vinyl.” This causes me to raise my brows in interest.
“Fine. But I’m going to complain about it.” As soon as my cousin belts out a laugh, I join in with her.
We’ve had to have gone through five stores at this point; I have more things piled in my arms than I have in my entire life. This isn’t even counting the few bags I have sitting behind me. Lakeshore Shoppes has a little bit of everything for everyone.
“Tell me what you think of the shirt at least?” Sel asks. I take in my appearance, having set the clothes down, and stare at my reflection. “Clinton Anton Morrison. You can’t wear golf attire tonight. Be serious.”
“Really now, Selly, my full government name?” I laugh.
She only calls me by my full name when she means business.
I’ve gone by Clint since high school, which feels further away than I realized.
Selene may be my cousin but she’s always felt more like a sister.
She was the baby of the family until I came along, and well, we grew up more like brother and sister than anything else.
Nonetheless, she’s right. I can’t wear golf clothes when I’m going out.
The white of the T-shirt is crisp and brightens up the warmth of my skin, and it has a texture to it that gives it a discreet pattern.
I’m finding the longer I wear it the more I love it.
She paired it with a tan belt and dark olive green pants.
“I’m not mad at these options, but can we be done now?” Exhaustion bleeds through my voice, and it matches the pinched expression as my cousin rolls her eyes.
“Okay okay, but at least you look good now.”
“Now?” Pressing my hand to my heart, I jest, “I’m wounded! Ya boy has always looked good.” I lick my thumb and forefinger and spread them across my brows. This earns me a deep belly laugh.
“Come on, you fool. I still want to check out the record store.” When we check out, we head right next door to the small mom-and-pop shop. There’s a Biggie album that has been sold out for years, but Sel and I hold out hope that maybe one of us will find it.
Flipping through the record sleeves, Sel stands across from me on the other side of the aisle. I lean in her direction, my voice low, and say, “I can’t believe this place is still here.”
“Right! It’s a gem. I hope it never closes,” she says, and I nod in agreement and flip through a few more. “This might not be Biggie, but you can never go wrong with Kem or Sade.”
“Let me see.” She holds up both records and purses her lips.
Selene tucks the records under her arm and gives me a soft smile. “This is what makes me happy.”
“Your next repeat song?” I chuckle, trying to hold it in as she swats at me. She and I both know once she finds a song she loves, it goes on repeat for the next four months.
She rolls her eyes but says in an even, serious tone, “No. You being back home. So we can pretend to find this damn Biggie vinyl. I missed you, cousin.”
I nod my head toward the cashier. “I missed you too, Sel. I’m glad to be back.”
“Let’s get back to the house before we have to head back out,” she says, getting us back on track and further away from a nap.
The glow of the green neon sign draws my eyes up to the name of the bar, Shaken Tropes.
The sign hangs above a door of one of the older buildings in town.
When I was little this area was where all the family businesses thrived, and though most of these are new businesses, I’m glad to see the entire neighborhood has been revitalized rather than gentrified like so many around the country.
Grabbing the door, I pull and hold it open for Selly to walk in ahead of me.
I scan the dimly lit area, taking note of the small table where readers enjoy their current reads.
Small table lamps give the room a moody glow, allowing each table a cozy feel for those who may want a bit more light while they delve into their books.
It’s a great idea, and honestly, I feel drawn in—wanting to find a booth to enjoy these matchmaking book services Selene told me about over coffee.
“This is the place I was telling you about. The vibes are immaculate. Don’t you think so?” Selene asks, but I’m too consumed with taking everything in to bother answering her.
I’m not sure what the bar was before but the layout is incredible.
They have spaces for small tables with plush chairs for readers and a dance floor surrounded by bookshelves, kind of like a library.
My gaze follows the line of bookcases deeper toward the back, where I assume the office area is.
I find myself drawn back to the bar, watching the bartender mix up something blue.
“And all the drinks match the themes found within the romance books. It is the cutest thing. I met one of the owners earlier, who, by the way, is stunning. She is definitely your type.”
“Oh, and what is my type, hm?” I hum, narrowing my eyes. “I don’t need you as a wingwoman that bad, Sel.”
“You say that now. Let’s grab a booth so we can grab a few bites to eat and then get your old ass on the dance floor.” She snickers.
“Hey! You’re almost three years older than me.
” Bumping her with my shoulder, she finally sits.
As I am about to take my own seat, I pat my pockets and realize I must have left my wallet in the car.
Without giving her a chance to say she will cover the bill, I turn on my heel.
“I’ll be right back. Forgot my wallet in the car. ”
I make it through the crowd easily, still taking in my surroundings.
A joyous laugh cuts through the music, and my head snaps in the direction it came from.
I would know that laugh anywhere. Without much thought my body turns in the direction of the sound which is all too familiar.
It may have been several years since I heard it, but I know it all the same.
The woman with the infectious laugh is sexy as fuck, and her hands move quickly as she talks with customers.
Her thick thighs meet a round, plump ass and a narrow waist. Her hair stops an inch or so above her shoulders and is colored in a vibrant magenta.
But when my eyes follow the line toward her face, she’s turned away from me.
I want to take a moment to consider if it’s really her or not, but I can’t stop myself as I move closer.
When she turns, her deep brown eyes widen as they land on me, and I can do nothing but take her in, as if the magnetic pull anchors us to one another.
Even though the anger from seven years ago sits in the back of my mind, she’s still the woman my entire body burns for.