18. Beau #2
“Hi, Ethan,” I say, trying to set the apologetic tone. “I’m sorry I missed your call. I—”
“Why are you in the bathroom?”
“I…” Why does he care about my location when we obviously have bigger things to deal with? “I just got out of the shower.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Your hair is dry.”
“Oh…yeah.” Shit. Horrible excuse. “I didn’t get my hair wet. Too much maintenance.”
I hear Shelby snicker, but I can’t tell if it’s through the bathroom door or just over the phone. “Well, if you’d like to put a shirt on, don’t let me stop you.”
More snickers. Oh, she’s going to pay for this. “Nope. I’m good. We can talk.”
“Whatever you say,” Ethan says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you remember what this tournament was supposed to be for both of you?”
Though we both know the answer, neither of us offer it up.
“In case you both forgot, let me remind you. A goodwill PR tournament. A golfer coming back from injury better than ever. Another golfer ready to show the world he’s not just hot takes on a microphone.
Two players who grew up together, fell in love with the game together, and are now coming together to win the big prize.
Did you two do any of those things yesterday? ”
Well…we did come together, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“No,” we both say in defeat before I add on, “But, there’s still a lot of tournament to play.”
Judging by Ethan’s exasperated look, my humor is clearly unwanted. “How the hell you two didn’t get kicked out yesterday, I’ll never know. But, I must say, you both did a good job of early damage control.”
“We know we screwed up,” I say. “And I’m sorry. Truly. I let my temper and outside factors affect my play and it clearly boiled over. I promise, it won’t happen again.”
“Same,” Shelby says. My eyes shift to her little corner of my phone screen. “I acted unprofessionally. That’s not who I am. I’ll do better.”
It’s not the apology I wanted last night, but for Shelby, that’s pretty damn close.
“We’re going to have to do more cleanup when you two get back to Nashville, but for the next three days, I need you to be on your best behavior. Is that clear?”
“Yes.”
We say it at the same time, which makes Ethan’s eyebrows raise. “Why does one of you sound like you have an echo?”
I look over to see that the bathroom door isn’t quite as closed as I thought it was.
“Sorry. Bad acoustics.” I say, shutting it behind me. “Now, what were you saying?”
I can tell Ethan doesn’t believe anything coming out of my mouth, but he can only fight on one hill today. “Just behave. Play good golf. And if anyone asks about yesterday, what’s the company line going to be?”
“That we’re sorry for our actions,” Shelby says. “That we’ve cleared the air with all parties involved, and we apologize for the distraction we caused at the tournament.”
“And that we’re also sorry for the example we set,” I add. “That those actions aren’t who we are, but we thank the tournament for giving us a second chance.”
“Well at least you both read your emails,” he says. “I’d say good luck the rest of the weekend, but really, just don’t kill each other.”
His joke is appreciated as we all hang up the call. I quickly scroll through my messages, making sure I didn’t miss anything important since I haven’t even looked at it since arriving in Shelby’s room last night. Because after that? My phone was the last thing I was worried about.
A few messages from Lauren and Phil. More than I can read from Gabi and Maddox, as well as my parents who also came to watch the tournament.
Ten missed calls from reporters—none of them being Courtney—likely wanting a comment.
I do find it funny that one of them is from Michael.
Like I’m going to give that man anything now knowing what he did to Shelby.
I shut the phone off and pocket it, making my way back out into the bedroom where Shelby is unfortunately now dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed.
“We need to talk.”
I should’ve seen this coming a mile away. “What about, Belle?”
I take a seat in the cuck chair—you know, the one every hotel has, and you can’t tell me it’s anything but that—and slide it over so I’m just a few feet away from Shelby.
“What happened last night. It—”
“Was great. Fantastic. Ten out of ten, would recommend.”
“Can never happen again.”
Yup. Called it. But that doesn’t mean I have to like it. Or not try and talk her out of it.
“I disagree on that last one.”
“Beau, be serious,” Shelby says, tilting her head for emphasis. “I don’t like you. Why would you want to sleep with someone who doesn’t like you?”
“I think you like me more than you think,” I say, bringing my foot up to rest on my knee. “I think you definitely like my tongue and my co—”
“Just shut up!” I’ve always loved flustering Shelby, but doing it over sex is adding a little something extra to it. “It happened. We can’t take it back. But we can never talk about it again. And absolutely never do it again.”
I don’t respond to her for a few seconds, trying to think of my best move here.
I don’t want to just argue with her on default.
This situation isn’t calling for that. No, what Shelby is wanting right now is to regain control.
She didn’t have it last night. This is her way of reasserting her dominance.
Which is great. Love that for her. But what she doesn’t realize is that I’m not giving up on this.
Only, now I need to make sure that when—not if—this happens again, it’s because she asks for it.
“Fine.”
That takes her aback. “Well. Good. I’m glad you see—”
“I wasn’t done,” I say as I stand up and walk toward her, leaning down to where she’s sitting on the bed so we’re eye-to-eye.
“It’s fine if you think that. I understand this being your initial reaction.
” I pause to lean closer, which allows me to see her breath hitch when my mouth moves right next to her ear.
“But this isn’t going to be the last time.
Because you’re going to go out and shoot the best round of your life today.
No one is going to know where your game came from.
And then you’re going to have to go through the press conference knowing that what was different today was how you started the morning by coming on my face.
And then you’re going to squirm because you’re going to want it again.
Because when a golfer finds something that’s working, they don’t change anything.
They keep doing it. So I’m going to see you again tonight, Belle. I guarantee it.”
She takes a second to try and straighten her shoulders. I have a feeling it’s a front. “Bold of you to assume I’m going to play that well. Or that any part of you will have had anything to do with it.”
She’s right. I am. But it’s also a risk I’m willing to take for the reward that could happen.
“Just make sure you think of me when you’re playing today.” I let my fingers trail down her arm, and I swear I can feel the goosebumps forming. “I bet it’ll help your game if you pretend my dick is pressing into your back as you line up your shot.”
Her eyes narrow like they normally do when I say something like this to her, but it’s the big gulp she takes that’s different.
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t, Belle,” I say, kissing her cheek. “Now go out and play the best damn round of golf you’ve ever played. I’ll be here waiting.”