Page 25 of Sundown Somewhere

“Dude, she just gave you blue balls,” our new stoner friend comments, reaching behind him and grabbing the brightly colored golf balls from the color-coded baskets.

“She’s done worse,” Hux responds, completely deadpan.

The comment catches me off guard. Not because it’s not true—I have done worse. A lot worse. The long list of scars Hux could rattle off from our misadventures comes to mind. Or the four different occasions that required stitches. To say nothing of my poor aim with the potato gun that hit him square in the package, making him almost hurl.

All worse than a little stunted arousal. Of which I’m sure he’s never had on my part anyway.

Exactly why that answer has me thrown. Because it’s not his standard “we’re just friends” defense. Not that this kid needs to know all that isn’t between Hux and me, but those three words are so automatic out of him, they seem pre-programmed. Like I could push a button and he would recite them.

Not today though.

Wide-eyed, and now a little afraid of me, the kid hands us the balls, score sheets, and mini pencils, silently pointing the way to the start of the course.

Somerset Island Golf Club is known for its pristine course, rivaling only Augusta National in the state of Georgia. One thing Somerset has that Augusta doesn’t, though, is a smaller, fun-sized version of the course, designed to challenge even the best mini golf player. Sure, there are the standards like the windmill, the castle, and even an alligator, but the brilliant minds behind this course also include multiple water features, a sand trap, and an underground tunnel.

“Ready to make this interesting?” Hux asks, the teasing lilt in his voice making me shiver.

“How interesting?”

“It’s time for us to raise some hell.” He winks.

“While playing mini golf?” I question, wanting to see where he’s taking this.

“Every stroke over par is a truth. No pleading the fifth.”

“For both of us? Of just the loser of the hole?”

“Both of us.” He shrugs, apparently having not thought about that part. “But, every hole in one, shooter gets to dare the other to do something.”

“And if we both get a hole in one?”

“Then I guess we’re both doing a dare…”

Hux waggles his eyebrows, an impish smile spreading across his lips. The one that makes him look so damn kissable. The only way that is happening is on a dare though. Because that ship sailed long ago.

“You’re on,” I challenge, ready to raise some hell, as he put it. Then again, it’s still fairly innocent; this is mini golf. We’re in public and there’s apparently a princess party in the vicinity, so we do have to behave ourselves. We’re also not sixteen anymore.

Either way, I’m here for it.

I look at the first hole, then to the small sign next to it. Hole one, Par four/two. Okay, easy enough. The long green is flat, with a ninety-degree angle at the far end, making it look like a hook. The curve is sloped though, so I just have to give the ball enough to get it down the green and up and over.

Whacking it the best I can, I get it close, but not quite. My bright green ball bounces off the wooden rail, and in the end, it takes me three tries to get it in the hole. Not my best work, but I’m still under par, so I’m fine.

Annoyingly, it takes Hux two.

“Alright, first truth⁠—”

“No! I was under par!” I object.

“Doll, that was a par two; you took three.”

“It was four!”

I point at the sign, where it very clearly says four. If he’s looking to get me riled up to take my mind off things, it’s working. Indignation rises in me, and I start to argue with him, but he cuts me off.

“That first number is the kids’ par.”

What?!