17. Seventeen

17

SEVENTEEN

“ I ’m ready.”

I emerged from my bedroom in the outfit I’d purchased from the downstairs shop. The clerk had assured me that it was what everybody was wearing on the stylish golf courses these days. Sure, it was just a lesson, but I didn’t want to embarrass Zach, who seemed out of sorts ever since his meeting with his father the previous day.

Sure, there had been sex and flirting. The sparkle in his eye was gone, though.

Zach looked up from his phone. He was waiting for me by the door. His eyebrows migrated toward his hairline as he regarded me, his expression unreadable.

It was enough to slow me. “Did I get it wrong?” I looked down at the black skirt and white shoes—and man, were those hard to walk in—and baby blue Stone Casino shirt. “Is this not right?” I was suddenly terrified I’d gotten it wrong.

A low chuckle emerged from Zach’s mouth as he shook his head. “That’s exactly right,” he assured me, his eyes roaming my legs, a hungry look taking over. “How would you feel about foregoing the golf lesson and playing a different game with me?”

I raised a finger and wagged it. “Um … no. You said this was important.”

“And yet other things strike me as more important right now,” he noted. “Fancy that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on.” My shoes made weird noises on the floor, and they weren’t all that easy to walk in. “Who wears these by choice?” I glared down at the shoes.

He snickered and headed toward me, his phone going into his back pocket. “You don’t put them on until you’re out at the course.” His hand landed on my waist. “Do you have a regular pair of sneakers?”

I was suspicious. “Yeah, but the girl at the shop downstairs said that I had to wear actual golf shoes.”

“Wait … you just bought this? From here?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t have to buy new clothes.”

“I’m pretty sure that I can’t show up to whatever ritzy golf course you have in mind in my track shorts and the only tank top I own with a built-in bra.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed. “I vote for no bra.”

I pinned him with a serious look. “You need to focus.”

“That sounds like zero fun.” To my surprise, he gave me a quick kiss. We were careful not to let affection overtake our sensibilities when it came to what we were doing. The lines were already blurred—although neither of us wanted to admit it—and the only time we touched one another was when we were playing a particular game. Still, he hadn’t even thought about it before touching me. It had been instinctive.

“You said that I had to at least look the part,” I reminded him. “Don’t you think that means being able to grip a club?” Something horrible occurred to me. “What if I miss the ball?”

He laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t teach you to be good in a single lesson.”

“Oh, and here I thought you liked it when I was bad,” I teased.

His eyes went dark. “Get in that bedroom right now.”

“No.” I did a little dance, causing my skirt to flare up. It had a built-in bottom—like something you would find in a bathing suit—so I wasn’t worried about flashing my underwear. Given how uncoordinated I was, that was a good thing on the golf course. “It’s lesson time.” I wasn’t good at flirting but playing games with Zach over the last week had given me more confidence. “If you’re a good boy I’ll give you a different lesson when we get back.”

“What sort of lesson? And be specific.”

I burst out laughing. “Get your head out of the gutter.” I left him in the living room and went to my bedroom. When I returned, I had a pair of simple sneakers with me. I decided now was as good of a time as any to get to the nitty gritty on our latest endeavor. “Can I ask you something about this golf tournament?”

“Sure.” He dropped down to the floor and surprised me when he removed my golf cleats. Wait … are they cleats? Are they sneakers? Are they moccasins? I didn’t know.

“Why is it so important to your mother?”

He snagged my sneaker from me and tugged it on my foot. It was a weird situation—him on his knees between my legs—and memories of things we’d done in similar configurations made my cheeks flush.

It was as if he knew what I was thinking because he pressed his lips to the inside of my knee. “The offer still stands to stay here,” he said in a growly voice.

I gave him a significant look. “I don’t want to embarrass you at this tournament. We’re going for the lesson.”

The sigh he let loose was long and drawn out. “Baby, you’re not going to embarrass me. I am worried, however, that my family will embarrass me in front of you.”

“I’ve met your family,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, and they’re awful.”

“I happen to like your sisters.”

“They won’t be there.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s a couples tournament. You have to be engaged or married to secure an invite. It’s never been a concern before because … well … you know.”

I smirked. “No showgirls allowed on the golf course?”

“Not so much.”

Something occurred to me. “Is this all couples or just … um…” I couldn’t finish out the question because I was afraid of somehow sticking my foot into my mouth.

Zach was an intuitive guy, something I never really gave him credit for when we were growing up. He tied my second shoe, gave my calf a solid squeeze, and then stood with my golf shoes in his hand. “There are couples of many colors and types who participate in the event,” he assured me. “My mother isn’t racist, and she absolutely loves her gay couples. Like … well and truly. She thinks they give her street cred or something.”

I considered it. “I guess I can see that,” I said finally. I liked his mother better than his father, although that wasn’t saying much. “How come your mother never stood up for your sisters with your father?”

Zach clearly wasn’t expecting the question because he did a double take. “Wow, it’s weird out here in left field,” he drawled.

I laughed and shrugged. “I just mean … your sisters aren’t idiots. They’re smart. They’re good workers. Why does all the pressure get put on your shoulders?”

He pointed toward his crotch.

“Ah, the penis factor.” I bobbed my head. “I get that—I do—but I’m seriously confused how all of this works. Why can’t your father simply not be a jackass?”

“I’ve asked myself that question a million times. I’ve never come up with an acceptable answer.” He shoved my shoes in his golf bag. It didn’t look as if it was used all that often.

“Are you actually an acceptable teacher for this little endeavor?” I was honestly curious.

He laughed as if I’d asked the funniest thing in the world. “I can hold my own. I’m not great—Opal is the best golfer in the family—but my father can’t stand to lose, so it’s good that I’m worse than him.”

“It’s just so weird.”

He slung the bag over his shoulder and motioned toward the door. “It is definitely weird.”

We didn’t hold hands for the walk, although we did shoot one another mischievous smiles in the elevator. When we got to the main casino floor, my brother caught sight of us.

“Ah, you’re going golfing.” Rex looked delighted as he rubbed his hands together like an Austin Powers villain. “This is going to be epic.”

It wasn’t an overt dig at me, but I wasn’t an idiot. “I bet I’m a natural,” I said before thinking about what was going to escape from my mouth.

Rex burst out laughing. “Remember when you were going to be a cheerleader but couldn’t do a cartwheel?”

I was the only one in the building who could get away with pinching Rex—he was head of security after all—but I was vicious when grabbing his flank and twisting. “Remember when you thought that thirty seconds was something to strive for with a woman?” I growled.

“Ow! Livvie!” Rex jerked away from me, his nostrils flaring. “You’re mean now that you’re married,” he complained as he rubbed his side. “You need to feed her some cake to soften her up or something,” he said to Zach. “It’s going to be a long eleven months if she’s going to continue being this mean.”

“I happen to like her mean.” Zach winked at me. “She’s going to need that mean streak to put up with the people at the tournament. Those society wenches are going to be all over her.”

“Yeah.” Rex straightened, his hand moving over his jaw. “I’ve been thinking about that. I don’t particularly like the idea of my sister being thrown to the wolves.”

“I don’t like it either,” Zach agreed. “Do you have an idea for getting us out of it?”

Rex worked his jaw. “No.”

“Just make sure you sell the idea that Livvie has never been on a golf course when you see my dad later,” Zach insisted. “Maybe if you stress how uncoordinated she is, he’ll change his mind.”

Rex bobbed his head. “I’m on it. I’ll tell him about the time she tripped over her own feet walking up the stairs to get her diploma.”

I split my glare between the both of them. “You guys suck. I’m not that bad.”

Rex looked smug. Zach at least had the grace to loom sympathetic.

“It’s going to be an interesting day,” Zach said finally. “We should probably get going, though. The course gets really hot after noon, so I would rather get this over with now.”

“I’m ready.” I beamed at him and tried to strike what I thought looked like a golf pose. Instead, I looked as if I was holding an invisible penis. “I’ve got this.”

Zach didn’t look convinced. “Yeah, it’s going to be a long day.”

I’D NEVER BEEN TO CANYON GATE Country Club, which meant I was surprised at the lush scenery that somehow didn’t manage to seem out of place in a desert. Sure, there were sandy spits with palm trees here and there, but there was grass, too. My favorite part were the water features. It seemed everywhere I turned there was a little waterfall.

“I love this,” I breathed as I changed back into my golf shoes.

Surprise registered on Zach’s face as he cast me a sidelong look. “We haven’t even hit the course yet.”

“It’s beautiful, though. I mean … when do you get to see stuff like this? We live in a desert.”

“Huh,” he said.

“That sounds like a loaded ‘huh.’”

He smirked. “It’s not. I just … you make me see my privilege sometimes, and it’s not a comfortable view.”

I turned to study his pensive features. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I know. It’s just … you’re so excited about a water feature, and I can’t remember the last time I even noticed it. My father used to bring me here when I was a kid. Not to golf or spend time with me,” he hastily added. “I played with the other members’ kids. I remember it being fun. Somewhere along the way I forgot the fun, though.”

“You do realize you can be a responsible adult and still have a good laugh, right?” I challenged.

His answer was automatic. “Of course.”

I frowned. “You don’t have to be your father, Zach. In fact, I would be disappointed if you turned into him.”

“I don’t want to be him,” he admitted. “I just don’t know if I want to be anything else.”

“You mentioned feeling lost the day you found me at the Purple Zebra to ask for my hand in marriage.”

He burst out laughing. “That is such a freaking girl thing to say.”

I ignored him. “I think maybe the breathing room you needed wasn’t because you didn’t know what you wanted to be. I think you do know. You’re just not ready to accept it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you’ll figure it out.” I patted his arm. “Now, come on. Teach me how to be Tiger Woods.”

He blinked. “Tiger Woods isn’t even a good golfer now,” he said finally.

“He’s not?” That was news to me. “Well, that’s a bummer. Who is a good golfer?”

“Um … Rory McIlroy.”

I immediately started shaking my head. “That dude broke up with a professional tennis player via text message. I’m not being that guy.”

“Fair enough. I’ll come up with a list while you’re practicing your swing.”

“Good idea.”

GOLF WAS STUPID. I FIGURED THAT OUT right away. Who decided that hitting a tiny ball toward a barely bigger hole with a stick was fun? An idiot, that’s who. We were only on the third hole when I made my opinion known on the subject.

“I quit.” I threw my club across the tee area and sent Zach a look, daring him to argue with me.

“Oh, see, you have more in common with my dad than I thought,” he said from his place in the cart. He glanced up from his phone, which he seemed to be glued to. “He would’ve thrown his club after that drive, too.”

“Do you really think comparing me to your father is going to get me to keep trying?” I hissed.

“Yes.” He went back to staring at his phone.

Rather than acknowledge the fact that he might be right about my little fit—seriously, I had zero patience when it came to hitting the ball—I sidled over to him. “What has you so interested in your phone?” I demanded. “Are you watching porn or something?”

Zach made an “are you kidding me” face as he shifted his attention. “Shortypants, if I wanted porn, I would just watch you try to tee up your ball. That’s more than enough stimulation for me.”

“If you’re not looking at porn, what are you doing?”

Guilt flooded his features.

“Oh.” I don’t know why I hadn’t realized it before. “You’re in contact with someone.” I swallowed hard. “How are you going to manage that when we’re married for another eleven months?”

“Oh, give me a break,” he said. “I’m not talking with another woman.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“I’m not talking with another man either,” he said. “I’m … monitoring the internal email system.”

That was so not what I expected him to say. “And why are you doing that?”

“Because two days ago my father said he would handle the accounting irregularity I brought to him. He said he would hand it off to the executive team.”

I waited. He obviously wasn’t done.

“He hasn’t done it yet,” Zach volunteered. “Why wouldn’t he turn it over?” He sounded frustrated.

“How much is it for?” I asked.

“The first one was about a hundred grand. The new one is five times that. I brought the discrepancies to his attention, and he said he would handle it.”

“And you don’t think he is?”

“I don’t… I…” Zach trailed off, obviously trying to make sense of his feelings.

“Just break it down for me,” I suggested. “I’m outside the problem. I might be able to help you.”

“Okay.” Zach sucked in a breath. “A few weeks ago—right around the time I asked for your hand in matrimony—I noticed that the department lines I was being fed didn’t add up to the whole that was being reported.” He smirked when he brought up asking for my hand.

I nodded. “I’m guessing each of your departments balances their own books and then they send over their numbers to be reconciled with the big budget.” That was a simple way of breaking it down, but it worked.

“Yes.” Zach bobbed his head. “So, the department heads said they’d all balanced their budgets, but when I added up their numbers, it was off. I asked them to do it again, but they came back with the same numbers. I was still trying to track the source when this month’s numbers came in and they were even more off.”

“So, we’re talking close to a million dollars?”

“Well, six hundred grand.”

“That’s close to a million to us peasants,” I replied dryly.

He poked my side. “Don’t take it to a weird place.”

Because he seemed so frustrated, and because I wanted to help, I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I can look for you.” I don’t know what possessed me to make the offer, but once it was out, it felt right.

“You can?” He seemed surprised but not unhappy.

“That is technically what I do.”

“I thought you were a crusader for the downtrodden now.”

I gave him a dirty look. “If you don’t want my help?—”

He cut me off with a shake of his head. “I want your help. I mean… I’m not always great with the numbers. I want to push this, but I can’t be certain I’m right.”

“And you don’t want to admit that to anybody but me,” I realized.

He was rueful. “You can’t make fun of me because then you’ll lose that sweet, sweet d?—”

I slapped my hand over his mouth before he could finish it out. “Don’t ruin the moment,” I chided.

The sparkle was back in his eyes, and even though I couldn’t see his mouth because of my hand, I knew he was smiling. “I’ll help you any way I can,” I promised. “You have to help me first, though. I’m terrible at this.”

He nudged my hand away from his mouth. “Do you want to know why you’re terrible at it?”

“No. I just want you to fix me.”

“Ah, Livvie, you don’t need to be fixed. You’re perfect the way you are. You don’t like that you can’t control exactly where the ball is going to go, though. You don’t adjust well. If your first shot is bad, you assume the hole is over. You don’t try to regroup and make it better. You just want to move and start over.”

It was an interesting observation. “I guess I kind of do live my life that way, don’t I?”

He nodded. “Yeah, but we’re going to work on that too.”

I sighed. “Just show me how to hit the ball from the tee again. I’m convinced there’s some trick I’m missing.”

“There’s not.”

“Show me. I won’t be content until I fail on my own a million times.”

“Yes, I’ve figured that out too.” He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth. “You need to unclench.”

“I’m not exactly good at that,” I admitted.

“I have a few relaxation techniques we might be able to try at home if you’re interested.”

“I very much doubt those techniques are going to help me hit this ball.”

“Never say never.”

All I could do was sigh when he showed me his impish smile. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”