AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You look...like a golfer,” I tell him approvingly as we place our clubs into the cart. His bag is pristine. His clubs gleaming. “I take it you don’t play often.”
“Your bag is pink. Your shorts are pink.” He lifts his eyebrows. “And you’re judging me?”
“Men dominated this sport for too long. It’s my right as a card-carrying member of this country club to rub their noses in the fact I’m a woman.”
He slides his sunglasses to the tip of his nose as if blatantly checking me out. I stand taller in my pink shorts and white top, making sure to pull my shoulders back and push my breasts forward.
A smile crests his lips before he pushes his sunglasses back up. Men. So weak.
“I don’t play often,” he says, “but I did once play a celebrity tournament with Bill Murray.”
That tracks.
We set out to play our nine holes. Barrett’s swing is atrocious, but his ball consistently lands about one hundred yards farther than mine, forcing me to play catch-up during all nine holes. His short game sucks, so I recoup by sinking putt after putt.
“I’m better at mini golf,” he grumbles, stuffing his putter in his bag. At least he quit swearing.
“I’ve never seen anyone eight-putt before,” I tell him sweetly, smiling as I recall his multiple lip-outs and putts that rolled waaaay past the hole.
“You try catching a fifty-yard pass with two defenders breathing down your neck, Kitty Cat, and then we’ll talk.”
It’s easy to forget that the man beneath the butter yellow polo and beige golf pants is a powerful and incredible athlete. Or he was anyway, before he blew out his shoulder.
We climb onto the cart, and I reluctantly agree to let him drive. He’s thoroughly ruffled when he learns that the cart has a speed limit and it’s not a high one.
“I imagine it was hard for you to give up football. ” I say.
“Players don’t last forever. We know that. Hell, an NFL career for most of us lasts around the time mine did anyway.” He shrugs as if he took the injury and the subsequent loss in stride, but he couldn’t have. He loved to play. He’s told me that several times.
“You didn’t want a career like Tom Brady or Peyton Manning?”
His jaw ticks as he squints out into the distance. The sun catches the red in his hair, highlighting the fiery strands interspersed with the golden brown. Rather than answer me, he asks, “Are we eating here?”
“Fine. Don’t open up. But you might want to write about it in your side of the column so that readers can peek at the real man beneath...whatever this is.” I wave a hand in his general direction.
He floors the golf cart, which doesn’t make it go that much faster, but I still grab the oh-shit bar attached to the roof just in case.
At the restaurant in the country club, Barrett lets out a sound of disapproval.
“What’s the matter, Fox? Don’t see any hostesses you’d like to take home?”
His eyes wander over my face as his lips tilt beneath a thin layer of scruff. His slow perusal causes my heart to pitter-patter in an irritating way. Blue eyes twinkle like there’s a secret he’s not telling me.
Which is ridiculous. Beneath that asshole exterior, he’s an asshole on the inside, too. The whole world knows it, and he goes out of his way to prove it.
Except for that moment when I confessed about North and I breaking up. Then Barrett was really decent... Kind of. In between offering to have sex with me or make out with me. The memory makes me warm. He was oddly comforting in that moment. Something I can’t quite reconcile with who I know him to be.
By the time we’re being led to the dining room I’ve spotted some familiar faces ringing a table in the center.
“Catarina!” A grin splits my mother’s face as she stands.
The two other ladies at the table—Sherrie and Bette—wave. I wave back.
“What a happy coincidence.” My mother tilts her head in the direction of my date-for-hire. “You must be the football guy she told us about. I’m Celia, Catarina’s mother.”
“Damn, I guess,” he says, his charm cranked to stun. He takes her hand and tugs her closer, examining her ring finger before placing a kiss on her knuckles. “Married. Good for you.”
My mom, bless her heart, doesn’t realize he’s flirting with her. “I’m sorry to say Catarina’s father isn’t here. He would have liked to meet you.”
