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I’m at the golf course, steadily moving toward the clubhouse. I don’t want to be filled with anticipation at seeing Sasha, but I can’t wait. This woman is driving me absolutely insane, and I’ve only known her for a day. I can’t imagine what she’s going to do to me after a full week.
I grin at this thought. She might be driving me temporarily insane, but no woman’s ever held my attention for more than a few days. A week is just long enough to realize this is simply hormones that will fade, as they always do.
Still, in this moment I can’t wait to see her. How will she act? She was as affected as I was during our kiss. She might’ve run away, but that’s because she was scared. Kisses like the one we shared don’t happen every day. It was powerful, and I want more. Good idea or bad, it doesn’t matter. At this point it’s out of our hands.
The clubhouse is surrounded by beautiful flowers and lush greenery. I glance around, wondering if she’s inside or out. Like a beacon, it doesn’t take long to find her. She’s standing near the entrance, wearing a short skirt that showcases her toned thighs and curvy calves. Her shirt hugs her chest and emphasizes the narrowing of her waist, and once again my mouth begins watering. Damn, my reaction to her is so unusual I don’t know how to process it.
“Good morning, Sasha,” I say, my voice low and seductive. I don’t need to try when it comes to her, my body simply goes into predator mode. My voice lowers, my muscles hum, and my eyes burn. If it didn’t freak me out so much, I might find it interesting. I wonder if this is how animals in the wild feel.
“Hello, Callan.” I’m shocked at the bubbly excitement in her voice. I wasn’t sure how she’d act today, if she’d be reserved and put distance between us. I like that she’s not. I move a bit closer, and see her quickly side-step me. She might be bubbly, but she’s avoiding my touch. Interesting.
“Since you’re staying close to here, I’m not sure what else I can show you,” she tells me. It’s odd but again I’m not thinking about why I’m in this town, I want to be with her.
“I always learn a lot more about a place when I’m with a local. A lot can be said for a golf course. It can draw people to a place. Do you know there’s a tiny town on the coast in Oregon called Bandon that has a world-class golf course people travel from all over the US to play?”
“I’ve never heard of it,” she says.
“Most people never will. There’s not much to the town at all, but the golf course is exclusive.”
“I like golf,” she says. “But it’s not something I necessarily want to travel all over to play. I just play at this course.”
This shocks me. I don’t take her as a golf-playing type of woman. “Are you any good?” I ask with a cocky smile.
She laughs. This woman laughs more than anyone I’ve ever met. “I’m decent,” she says with a poker face. There are so many layers to this woman it’s crazy.
“Want to make a friendly wager?” There’s nothing I like more than a great bet.
“I could be persuaded.”
I throw my head back and laugh. Damn, I’m having fun. This is so unusual for me. It’s not that I don’t enjoy life, it’s that I rarely loosen my tie to set my spirit free. I can see myself doing that with Sasha. She’s far too dangerous for me to hang around with for long.
“Okay, winner gets to choose one activity of their choice where the other can’t argue.” She gives me a suspicious look.
“What sort of activity and how long will it last?” she asks. Good, she’s not a woman to go into something blindly.
“It will be appropriate and can last eight hours,” I tell her. I have no idea what I’ll plan, but it will be something spectacular. I’m sure I’ll win this.
She gives me such a sweet, innocent smile I start to doubt myself the slightest bit, something else I’m not used to. She holds out her hand to shake on the deal and I hesitate for only a moment. I’m a good golfer, but her confidence is making me rethink this bet. I don’t normally enter a competition without knowing for certain what the results will be.
“You’re on. Let’s do this.” She walks me into the clubhouse where she greets Charlie, the man behind the counter. He takes my credit card and hands us the keys to a golf cart where clubs are already loaded. It seems Sasha has everything planned.
As we begin our drive to the first hole, I can’t help but look over at her, driving with confidence, her very presence captivating, drawing me further into her spell. My mind drifts to the damn box. Is there some magic happening here? I shake my head. What a ridiculous thought.
Within three holes I know I’m in trouble. This bright, bubbly woman is more than good. She could play a professional circuit. With a bit of training she could win championships. I’m good, but she might be better. I’m not at all used to this. I’m in the lead but barely, and I’m well aware this game can turn fast as we both get warmed up.
I hear laughter and look over at the hole next to ours. Sasha leans closer, her perfume drifting over me in the light breeze. I inhale and count the hours until I can strip her clothes away. It will happen, it’s just a matter of when. I’m not a patient man, but for this woman I can practice the concept.
“See that man over there?” Sasha whispers as she nods toward a distinguished man in a crisp blue polo shirt.
“Yes.”
“That’s Dr. Stephens. He’s incredible. He grew up here, then went to Harvard Medical School, did a residency in Boston, became one of the most sought after pediatric surgeons in the country, and then moved back home to practice medicine right here at home. He does a lot of charity work, and even goes to Africa every year for a month to do pro-bono surgeries. These are the kind of people we have living in Seaville. Our entire community adores him.”
I have to admit I’m impressed. “It takes a remarkable person to give up the kind of money he could make in a large city to practice medicine in a small town.” We watch as the man in question expertly sinks his putt.
“City life isn’t for everyone, and how much money can we actually spend in a lifetime? Do we really need tens of millions of dollars, let alone hundreds of millions or more? No. I think when we get to that point, it’s a status thing. Sure, prices continually go up, and inflation is horrific, and don’t even get me started on the thievery of taxes, but even if I buy everything to my heart’s content I couldn’t spend a million dollars a year.”
There’s no way I’m admitting I’ve spent a million dollars a year on items. She’d be horrified if she knew the cost of a couple of my vehicles alone. I’ve slowed down my spending though, so I see her point. A lot of the items are simply status symbols, but for who? We only spend five-thousand-dollars on a suit because someone tells us that outrageously expensive suits makes us look more successful. I do this. Why? What do I need to prove? This woman is making me question myself, and I don’t like it.
