“Am I supposed to carry your bag or something?” I asked, and Mr. Clermont smiled.
“No. We’ll make Beck carry the bags.”
Beck rolled his eyes, but he already had a golf bag over each shoulder. They looked heavy, and I knew I probably should have offered to help him, but I didn’t. I grinned and walked back to the cart to wait on them.
Mr. Clermont started walking toward the tee box before calling over his shoulder. “Let’s go, Josie.”
I scrambled to follow him. I didn’t realize I would be needed on the course. I had no earthly idea what the hell I was doing, but I didn’t want him to think I was a complete and total idiot. He was the owner, and I would never get moved into any other position if he thought I wasn’t capable.
Heck, he probably wouldn’t even want me serving food.
Beck stood the bags up next to each other before he pulled a golf club out of one of the bags and handed it to his father.
“This is a driver.” His dad was clearly talking to me, but he was looking out to where he was about to hit. “If you’re going to work on a golf course, you should at least know the basics.”
I watched as Beck stuck something in the ground and placed the ball on top. He made his way back over to where I stood and watched his father. His dad was still talking to me about golf, but I barely heard a thing he said.
Beck’s fingers slid against mine. His fingertips ran small circles around mine where they hung between us, the touch tender and far too familiar, and I jerked my hand away before his father could see.
The way Beck grinned at my reaction told me he’d planned on torturing me the entire day. Let’s be honest, I had a feeling he planned on torturing me forever.
His dad swung the driver, and the loud whack pulled my attention back to him. He was watching the ball even though I could barely see it, and Beck walked back to the bags to pull out his own golf club. His fingers grazed my lower back as he passed, a touch that was practically undetectable, but I could barely catch my breath.
I watched Beck as he took his turn, not having a single clue where his ball went. I was too busy watching every part of him. The way his shorts hugged his ass, the way his biceps shifted and bunched with his every movement. He was mesmerizing without even trying.
“So, Josie, Jack said you’ve been doing well in the restaurant. He said you’ve quickly become one of the most popular servers.”
I jerked my gaze away from Beck’s ass to look up at Mr. Clermont.
“Thank you.” I smiled, red tainting my cheeks. “I’m really enjoying the job. Everyone has been so nice.”
He nodded his head and climbed back into the cart. I attempted to lift his bag to carry to the cart, but it was much heavier than I expected. I tried to put it over my shoulder as I had seen Beck do earlier, but he snatched it out of my hand before I could.
Beck placed both bags on his shoulders, then motioned for me to walk ahead of him. I could feel him staring at me as I walked, and I would be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that didn’t like it.
Beck’s attention was dangerous, but it was also thrilling.
And even though I knew I should, a part of me didn’t want it to end.
We climbed into the cart, and this time the drive to the next hole was much less eventful. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I was finally getting the hang of it.
Mr. Clermont didn’t speak this time as he grabbed his driver and headed toward his ball. He seemed to be concentrating more than he was earlier. He was doing something. Looking down the line of where he’d swing.
“I’m already winning.” Beck grinned as he leaned closer to me. “He’s a bit competitive.”
“Like father, like son,” I murmured.
A few carts passed by us, and each of them seemed glued to whatever he was doing. I knew that he was a powerful man, but they seemed to want to know his every move. They watched him as if they were waiting for him to make a mistake, as if they were waiting for him to fall.
I stepped away from Beck as they passed, not wanting to give them any reason to think anything more.
I didn’t need any of these men to think anything of me. I wanted to stay completely off any of their radars.
Beck waited until they passed before he stepped closer to me again. He wasn’t allowing me any space.
“Your ass looks really nice in those shorts,” he whispered the words against the back of my neck, and his dad could have turned around at any moment to see him. I pushed my elbow into his stomach to get him to back up, but he wasn’t having any of it. He pushed harder against me, his front pressing into my back, and the feel of his breath against my skin caused goose bumps to break out over my skin.
“Back up, Beckham,” I whispered to him as he ran his nose along the base of my hairline.
“I don’t think you want me to.” His chest pushed against me as he breathed in and out. The rhythm the same pace as the push and pull of my lungs along with the throbbing between my legs.
His dad was lining up his shot, his attention completely on his golf game, and I knew he couldn’t hear Beck’s words. But I felt like he was broadcasting them for everyone. It felt like he was screaming, and there was nothing I could do to ignore him.
His dad swung his club, and Beck moved from behind me in a flash. I
