Seth shifted. “Are you comfortable with that?” he asked me.
“I’ll do whatever it takes to help Damien,” I said, perhaps skirting a little too close to the truth. Seth didn’t know this was a fake deal or that I was being paid for it. “A round of golf sounds like it’ll be fun. The course is pretty.”
“Except we’re not going to be playing out there,” Damien said. “We’ll be in hell. Screaming souls, the works.”
“Melodramatic.” Seth got up, straightening his suit jacket. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He paused before exiting, casting a sneaky smile over his shoulder. “I’d pick up those panties before room service gets to them, if I were you.”
21
Damien
The next morning…
Spending the day pottering around on a fucking golf course with Mortimer was about as appetizing as a lava enema. Having Hazel with me made things a smidge less unpleasant—she’d dressed in a cute white skirt, a preppy collared shirt, and tennis shoes, her caramel hair up in a high ponytail. No makeup save for a splash of mascara.
Gorgeous. Perfect. Dangerous as fuck.
I liked her dressed down, dressed up, and in nothing. I just liked her.
I placed my hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the golf clubhouse, where all the old dudes would hang around after a few rounds and tell fishing stories. Most of them weren’t even related to fish—who bagged the biggest deal, whose wife had signed the tightest pre-nup, whose mistress was the hottest. The kind of bullshit that turned the brain to mush.
“You OK?” Hazel asked, leaning into me so that her arm brushed my side. She’d woken up worrying about her father, but her mood had lightened significantly after she’d given him a quick call.
“If you’re not careful, I’m going to take you to the bathroom and have my way with you,” I said, pressing my nose into her hair and inhaling.
“Didn’t you get enough this morning?” Hazel’s smile was in her voice.
I squeezed her closer and pressed a kiss to her temple, allowing myself a moment of weakness. Of emotion. Besides, I could pass the affection off as part of the act. We were in public, and engaged couples were supposed to be nauseatingly all over each other.
“You’d better get as much as you can before the weekend ends,” I said, into her ear.
Hazel stepped away from me, turning and walking backward so she could spear me with a glare. “I’m the one who suggested that in the first place. Do you think I’m going to forget?”
“No, but I know you’ll fall for me if you’re not careful. Remember, that was the one rule. Don’t. Fall. For—”
“You’ll fall for me before I fall for you,” Hazel said, lifting her chin. “Bet.”
I sniggered, and she flipped me off, proudly.
Christ, I liked that about her. A woman who was both shy but confident, mature but young-at-heart, and caring. The women I’d dated, albeit in a very short-term way, had all been attractive, but there’d been something missing. Not enough sass or just a disconnect.
With Hazel it was like… Fuck, you’re an idiot. Stop getting sentimental. I viewed her through a nostalgic lens, that was all. Because she’d been my first real crush in high school. Not a chick I’d wanted to bone and forget, but one who’d gotten under my skin.
“Thank God.” Seth appeared on the path in front of the clubhouse, dressed like he’d just left a frat party, popped collar and all. “I was beginning to think the worst.”
“That we’d died in a vicious animal attack?”
“Huh?”
I shrugged. “I can’t think of anything worse than that.”
Hazel snapped her fingers and pointed at me. “Alien abduction. Death by alien abduction.”
“Anal probed to death?” I raised an eyebrow. “Inventive.”
“Did you two put a different kind of sugar in your cereal this morning?” Seth asked, looking first at Hazel then at me.
“It’s the whole engagement thing,” I said, waving a hand. “Has us giddy.” I joined Hazel again, wrapping a protective arm around her waist. “Where’s the dickhead?”
“You’re going to need to be more specific,” Seth said.
“Really?”
My brother rolled his eyes. “He’s starting out the morning with a gin and tonic. He said to bring out his golf cart and park it in front of the club. Keep it running.”
“You do that,” I said. “We’re going to rent out some clubs and a cart.”
“Dad wouldn’t like that.”
“And I couldn’t give two shits.” I led Hazel away, and we chatted while we rented out the clubs and the cart from a pimply teenager who’d lucked out and gotten a summer job at the club. It was the perfect day for golfing—clear blue skies, not a hint of wind, but not too hot, either. Mild enough that we wouldn’t sweat ourselves off the shiny seat of the cart.
I helped Hazel into the cart, the diamond on my grandmother’s engagement ring sparkling on her finger, then circled to the driver’s side and got in.
“You ready for this?” I asked, sliding a hand up her tan thigh and resting it just below the hem of her skirt.
“You say that like there’s something to be ready for. It’s a golf cart.” She popped on her cap, pulling her ponytail through the gap at the back.
“Famous last words.” I slammed my foot down on the accelerator, and we took off down the neat pathway, spitting up gravel.
Hazel shrieked and grabbed the side bar.
I checked on her but found she was all smiles, hanging on for dear life, her hand holding down the cute pink, peaked cap.
Mortimer’s cart had cruised onto the course already and headed for the teeing area at hole one.
My competitive streak rose, and I raced to catch up with him because it would annoy the shit out of him, and there really wasn’t anything he could do about it. He wanted me to play nice and to find a woman to marry? Well,
