Page 58 of Off the Post

Leanne reaches behind her for a packet of materials on the table and holds them out for me. “We’re so glad you could join us. I can’t tell you how grateful we all are that you’ve offered your time to participate and raise money for these kids today.”

I think I may have seen Leanne during my brief visit with Ali in her office a few weeks ago. But instead of business attire, today she’s wearing a bright pink golf shirt with a white sport skirt, and her hair’s pulled back into a ponytail. I try to keep my attention focused on Leanne while she speaks, but my eyes involuntarily drift to Ali, who has at last fully turned around to face me.

A bright pink blush colors her cheeks and her sky-blue eyes sparkle bright in the sunlight.

She has her hair pulled back off her face into a sporty ponytail. The T-shirt sporting the LTLFK logo does nothing to hide her gorgeous curves, and her tanned legs look fucking phenomenal in the short golf skirt she has on.

I remind myself of the agreement we came to the night we slept together: We are keeping it casual and professional in public. No flirtatious banter or fuck-me eyes. It’s important we remain discreet around others, especially her brother.

But fuck, this is going to be harder than defending the net against the best team in the league. All I want right now is to lift her in my arms, kiss the hell out of her, and cart her off somewhere private where I can do unspeakable things to that body.

I clear my throat, remembering I need to be polite and courteous and play nice with others. “You can call me Wolf. Everybody else does.”

I accept the packet she’s handed me and my gaze flicks to Ali, who has stepped up to the table.

“Good morning, Soren,” she says, offering me her hand to shake. “Good to see you again.”

Her touch sends mystifying electric charges up my arm. I run my thumb over her knuckles with a gentle caress, and her eyelashes flutter slightly. Then I let go of her hand before I do something stupid.

“Guten Morgen, Ali.” Her eyes light up even more. She’s said she loves to hear me say her name with my German accent, so I throw it on extra thick. “Gut to see you, too. And I’m looking forward to meeting my new friend.”

Ali’s blush deepens and she quickly glances away, her fingers caressing her eyebrow in a move I now know to be a nervous tic.

Leanne jumps in, her assessing gaze bouncing between Ali and me. I know Ali hasn’t said anything to anyone, but the look in Leanne’s eyes suggests she may be onto us anyway.

“In your packet is all the information you need about scoring and the rules of play, Wolf. As you know, this is not a typical golf game. It’s a Best Ball tournament, which means you and your teammate will tee off and then use and count the best shots until a hole is made. Then you’ll use that score. Do you have any questions for us?”

“Um, yeah. I guess. What about the boy I’m supposed to be teamed up with? Nicolas.”

“Oh yes, I believe that’s…” Leanne is interrupted by a young, chipper voice behind me. I swing around and my eyes drop to the boy in question.

“Nicolas!” he shouts, but it comes out sounding like Nicawas.

The little boy stands about four feet tall and is covered in Vikings gear from head to toe. Over his head, he wears a hockey helmet painted with the Vikings emblem on each side and on his shoulder is the strap of a small golf bag, which holds a few child-sized clubs.

While I can’t see much of him under the helmet and from my height, I know from the excitement in his voice that he’s beaming.

I take a knee so I’m eye level with the little guy. Underneath the helmet guard, a lopsided grin shows off his missing front teeth and his eyes, while wide-set, are a shade of bright blue that rivals the sky.

“Hey there, Nicolas. I hear you’re going to be my golfing buddy today, eh?”

He bounces on his toes with excitement that is palpable. “Yeah. You’re da Woff. I’m Nicowas.”

I take the hand he politely sticks out and give it a firm shake. “Can I call you Little Wolf, since we’re partners?”

The light in his expression could rival a sunrise. He turns his head to smile in wonder and amazement at his mother, who stands next to him, holding a bag filled with what appears to be snacks and medical supplies.

“Mama, you hear dat? Woff wants to call me widdle woff.”

She nods her head at her young son. “I think that would be a perfect nickname for you.” Then she shifts her gaze to me, and I can see all her thoughts and emotions in the crinkle of her eyes.

Gratitude and a deep love for her son.

A pang of sorrow hits me because I know with certainty that it would be the same look Günther would have for his children were he alive now.

“Wolf, you have no idea how long Nicolas has waited to meet you. He’s your number one fan.”

She introduces herself as Melanie, and I stand up and shake her hand, glancing between the two of them and then looking at Nicolas when I speak.