Page 41 of The Sweet Spot

“And you were smiling. You never smile when a camera’s not in front of you.”

“Wait, what?”

“Oh, babe, I love you with all my heart, but you’ve got resting bitch face. I thought you knew?”

Too many questions are being volleyed my way at once. I can’t think.

“Calm down. I didn’t have sex with him.”

Jess narrows her eyes.

“Interesting.”

“What?”

“You didn’t deny a make-out session. You just got very specific with sex.”

My stomach drops.

“That's not—”

“Oh my God.” She grabs my shoulders. “You did something with him.”

She wraps her arm around my shoulder, pulling me in so she can direct my view back to the man who made me come so hard this morning that I saw stars.

“Tell me everything. Start with the kiss on the cart and end with the throw down of the—”

“We aren't together,” JB says, cutting Jess's rant off. I don't know if I'm thankful he did it, or concerned that he heard any of our conversation.

Either way, my cheeks are heating. Flaming, really.

Max is standing next to him, looking bored out of his damn mind.

“What do you mean?” Jess asks with a teasing lilt in her voice. One I don't think either of the guys picks up on. “I'd say you and Whit are very much together after yesterday.” She fans herself, not even hiding the innuendo. Brat.

“Oh, don't you worry.” JB shrugs her off and heads over to me. His arm slinks around my waist and his hand rests on my hip. His fingers graze the sliver of exposed skin at my side, and I shiver, the pulse heading straight to my core.

Why can’t this man do something to give me the ick so I can move on from this tournament without thinking about him?

“Whit and I are very much together.” He pulls me closer. I shrug him off with a curled lip. Jess might know our dirty little secret, but that doesn’t mean Max needs to know too. “We’re forever teammates now.” That only makes me feel marginally better. “But I was referring to our little foursome. That one-point lead means we’re playing against Austin Adams, one of the guys from the Minnows, our triple-A team.”

“Great. Looking forward to beating another Fish. Where is he?”

Max points over to the golf carts where Millie Sutton is going through her golf bag. There’s a guy next to her whose thighs are wider than my waist.

“How old is he?”

Max leans in. “Eighteen, but don't let the age fool you. Kid's got a real swing.”

“And thighs,” Jess adds, giving me a visual in case I couldn't see it for myself. The man is nearly busting out of his golf pants. “He plants like a tree.”

“It's what makes him one of our best future bats,” JB adds. “Just need to get his defense up and we've got ourselves a new third basemen.”

I narrow my eyes, sizing him up. “His partner's Millie Sutton,” I say. “She's solid from the fairway. Struggles a little with distance off the tee, but she's consistent.” I pause. “Which means we’ve got to stay consistent. Anything else will hand them this victory.”

“We won't. We're going to win this.” JB knocks his shoulder against mine, and when I glance over at him, the tension there immediately disappears.

“Ready?” I ask.