Page 61 of The Sweet Spot

I take in a sharp breath. Why is reading that turning me on so much? Spanking... yes, please. I rub my thighs together, thankful that I'm wearing shorts today, because it means the fabric is bunched closer to my core. Maybe just a few strokes and I'll be good.

“Here's your drink.”

Shit.

I toss the phone into my lap so fast I nearly drop it onto the floor and close my eyes.

Please, please be face down.

I cannot have my father see JB's texts about spanking and restraints.

“Everything okay?” he asks, tossing my phone onto the cushion next to my thigh.

It must’ve locked when it fell. There’s no way he wouldn’t ask me what the hell is going on if it didn’t.

Either that, or he’s just as embarrassed and doesn’t want to mention what he saw.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Taking my time, I open my eyes and drag my gaze to my father.

Can he see how red my cheeks are?

“T-Thanks, Dad.” It’s all I manage to get out as I take the water, my hands a little shaky.

He doesn’t say anything or seem that bothered by my reaction. Instead, he just drops down into the recliner next to me and props his feet up on the ottoman.

Maybe that’s a good sign, and he didn’t actually see anything... I hope.

“Pre-game's on,” he says happily as he grabs the remote and turns the TV on. “Gonna get a good look at Grayson’s warmup.”

“Mm-hmm.” I open the bottle and take a sip of my water.

My phone is burning a small rectangle of shame into my thigh, so I slide it under the cushion, and refuse to look at it. There’s no way I can reply to JB without visibly reacting right now.

“Good crowd tonight,” Dad says, pointing at the TV with his beer. “Cincy always brings it.”

“Mm-hmm.”

The second the camera pans to JB stretching, my father glances over.

“Well, look who it is,” he says with a little sarcasm in his voice. Okay, my father isn’t an idiot, and JB and I weren’t exactly subtle toward the end of the tournament, but does he have to call me out like this?

I don’t acknowledge that look with any kind of confirmation. I just give him a tight, non-committal smile, pretending that I’m not dying to touch JB’s exceptional ass.

“Yeah, it’s JB,” I state just as a broadcast graphic flashes across the screen with the words 'Earlier Today.’

JB’s face fills the screen as he smiles at Sienna with his hat on backwards, and a little tuft of his dark hair poking through the hole. Why is that so attractive?

“JB, you had quite the weekend,” Sienna says. “How does it feel to be the first Catfish ProAm winner ever?”

“It feels incredible.” JB grins, leaning into the mic. “I played some of the best golf of my life, but it was nothing in comparison to my partner, Whit. She’s the only reason I now have a cool Catfish trophy in my living room.”

Sienna laughs in that fake reporter way. “And how was it playing with Whit Marlow? Is she as intense as everyone makes out?”

“Intense?” I pipe out, sitting up a little straighter and looking at my dad with surprise. “I'm not that intense, am I?”

My dad chooses to drink a beer instead of answering.