Mimosas were not Wells’s drink of choice.
The flute felt breakable in his grip. Champagne was for women.
But hell if he didn’t knock back three of those suckers without noticing.
He was too wrapped up in the stories Evelyn and Jim were telling about Josephine to pay attention to anything else. The best part was Josephine blushing and begging them to stop. Goddamn, he wanted to hear it all again, but with her sitting in his lap next time so he could tickle her, kiss those pinkening cheeks and neck.
He really needed to get a grip on his hunger for his girlfriend. At least around her parents.
Girlfriend.
Had he bullied her into it? He’d been worried about that initially—and then he remembered that his Josephine didn’t get bullied into anything. If she’d agreed to be in a relationship with Wells, that’s because she wanted to be in one with him. End of story.
Although . . . maybe later, he’d just double- and triple-check.
God willing, it wouldn’t be on the DL forever. He didn’t know how long he could manage keeping the whole thing to himself. Even before they started dating, he’d been pretty obvious about his growing feelings. Warning Calhoun away from her like a possessive beast. Escorting her all over a family-friendly resort as if she might fall victim to an ambush.
And she didn’t even know about her birthday present yet.
Would he be able to keep things professional in public? At all times?
Professionalism wasn’t exactly his strong suit. Throw in the fact that he was officially dating a woman who made him feel purposeful and alive—not to mention hornier than he’d ever been in his twenty-nine years—and the ball of yarn could unravel fast. Even now, at brunch with her jovial but watchful parents, he was having a hard time stopping himself from yanking Josephine’s chair closer so he could hold her hand.
They weren’t keeping their relationship a secret from Jim and Evelyn, but Josephine wanted to let things settle after they’d walked in on him trying to drag her back to the bedroom for round two of sex.
That’s fine. That’s her right.
He didn’t have to like it, though.
“Why are you frowning at me?” Josephine whispered to him out of the corner of her mouth.
“I’m just concentrating on the story,” he rumbled back.
That wasn’t a complete lie. Resolving to hold the shit out of her hand later, when they were alone, he crossed his arms, leaned back in his chair, and listened to Evelyn and Jim’s story, amused by the way they traded sentences.
“Every single one of Joey’s teeth has been lost in some traumatic way,” Jim said, waving his hands around. “The first one came out the second day of kindergarten.”
“The children left school that day traumatized.”
“Like they’d just returned from war. Blood on their little shirts—”
“Older and wiser. They’d seen a thing or two.”
“And the second one came out during a soccer game. A ball hit her right in the mouth. We asked if she could be brave and walk off the field and she dramatically asked for a stretcher.”
Wells laughed. A real, loud laugh that made Josephine look at him funny. “She’s gotten a lot braver since then, I guess. Run her over with a golf cart now and she doesn’t even flinch.”
“Oh, come on, I more than flinched. I howled.”
“Not long enough to stop yelling at me,” Wells pointed out.
Josephine smiled. “Yelling at you always takes priority.”
Christ. I want to kiss her and never come up for air.
“We just about died, seeing that happen on live television,” Evelyn said, fanning herself with a limp cloth napkin, which couldn’t possibly be producing enough wind to be worthwhile.
“That’s when your whole turnaround started,” Jim said, tilting his head curiously. “You birdied damn near every hole after the accident. Why is that?”
“It’s a boring story,” Josephine said quickly.
“No, it’s not,” Wells disagreed, unable to keep his expression from turning cocky. “She had my name painted on her toenails. I caught her blue-toed.”
Josephine slapped her hands over her face.
“How delightful!” Evelyn split a glance between them. “But I still don’t understand why that would spur you into such a comeback.”
Now everyone was looking at him, waiting for an explanation.
Did he have one? That he could put into words?
“Well, uh . . .” He scrubbed at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I guess I grew up needing just one person on my side, you know? Just one. I finally had that for a while—someone on my side—but that experience only taught me that people come and go. Not Josephine, though. And I guess her toes reminded me that . . .” He blew out a breath. “Having Josephine on my side is more like having a whole army. And I wanted to fight, too.”
Somewhere, ten miles away, a pin could be heard dropping.
Jim reached for his drink and took a long, healthy gulp.
Josephine stared at Wells with an unreadable expression.
Evelyn dabbed at her eyes with the cloth napkin. “Isn’t that lovely?” She whooshed a breath up toward the ceiling and refocused on Wells with glassy eyes. “You said you didn’t have anyone on your side growing up. Where were your parents?”
“Mom . . . ,” Josephine murmured.
“No, it’s okay.” Wells reached over and squeezed her knee under the table, his chest expanding to twice its size when she wove their fingers together. “When I was twelve, my parents got jobs on a cruise ship. I’d been a lot of trouble, getting kicked out of school, refusing to come home when I was told, fighting. They just needed a break, you know?” He tried to smile, but it never quite formed. “Anyway, after that, they were always traveling. The times they were home, they needed to blow off steam, I guess. They partied a lot. I started staying with my uncle . . . and one afternoon, my parents docked after a trip to Mexico and . . . I just didn’t go home. No one really addressed it. I just stopped going home.”
A wave of embarrassment caught Wells off guard. Why was he ruining this brunch—his girlfriend’s birthday brunch—by telling this sob story? The Doyles had never missed a milestone in Josephine’s life. Probably never forgot to pack her a school lunch even once. His backstory probably sounded pathetic to them. So he tried to make light of it to alleviate the heavy mood he’d caused.
“I mean, if anyone understands blowing off steam, it’s me. I’m sure you’ve seen the evidence of that on the news,” he joked, no longer sure he should be holding Josephine’s hand after reminding them he’d been in jail. Not exactly boyfriend material for their incredible daughter. But when he tried to take his hand back, she held on.
“Look what they’re missing out on,” she said for his ears alone, brushing a thumb across his knuckles. “Look what so many people have missed out on.”
Someone started singing.
Several someones.
Wells was so busy looking into Josephine’s eyes that it took him a moment to realize their table was surrounded by singing waiters and waitresses. They’d set a cupcake down in front of Josephine, a candle stuck in the center.
“That’s the sugar-free one?” Evelyn mouthed to one of the waitresses, not so discreetly.
Josephine gave Wells a playful eye roll, before continuing to watch him steadily.
When the birthday song had nearly reached its end, she leaned over and settled her mouth against his ear. “Have you ever had a birthday party, Wells?”
What was happening inside his chest?
Pressure built more and more, crushing his windpipe.
He gave a stilted shake of his head.
She didn’t let any pity show and she’d never know how grateful he was for that. “Blow the candles out with me?”
Wells barked a humorless laugh. “I don’t need to do that, belle.”
“I know.” She gathered her hair in a hand, tilting her chin toward the flame. Inviting him to join. “I want you to.”
That sealed it. Josephine wanted something—Josephine got it. Period.
With a sigh, Wells angled himself in his seat and leaned in toward the cupcake. Without counting down, they blew at the exact same time, extinguishing the flame. Somewhere deep inside him, a pothole paved itself over. Maybe the road was never going to be perfect, but it was getting better. Good enough to drive on.
“Your swing has been looking a damn sight better, son,” Jim was saying.
Wells had to run that statement back several times to process it, because he was so lost looking at the man’s daughter. Could anyone blame him? How did she always know the right thing to say? To do? Was she actually an angel?
“Thanks,” Wells said slowly, narrowing his eyes to examine his girlfriend for evidence.
“Joey, how is your swing? You been keeping in stroke?”
Now that got Wells’s attention.
He nearly got whiplash looking at Jim so fast. Then back to his girlfriend.
“Jesus Christ, Josephine,” Wells started, hot irritation licking at his skin—but only irritation at himself. “I’ve never seen you hit a golf ball.”
Jim’s spoon clattered onto his coffee saucer.
A horrified and much deserved silence passed over the table.
“Never?”
“No,” Wells said miserably. How was that even possible?
Josephine was laughing at him. “Calm down. We’ll get to it.”
“No, I don’t think you understand, this needs to happen today.”
“Rolling Greens still hasn’t opened its doors after the hurricane. And we don’t even have a tee time anywhere else,” his girlfriend sputtered. “Halfway through a day this beautiful? There aren’t going to be any spots left.”
Wells gave her a look that said oh come on. “My name has some pull, Josephine.”
“So does yours, by now, Joey-Roo.”
Joey-Roo, mouthed Wells with a smug wink.
Josephine kicked him under the table while taking a giant bite of her cupcake.
I’m going to marry this woman.
Done fucking deal. Someone direct him to the nearest ring shop.
“Call Lone Pine and see if they can slide you in, Joey. While you wait for your tee time to roll around, you can show Wells the progress on the Golden Tee.” Jim clasped his hands, wringing them eagerly. “You won’t believe how far the shop has come in just a week. Joey cleaned it up real nice, got it all set for construction to begin.” He turned his broad smile on his daughter. “Did you talk to the contractor yet, honey?”
She stopped chewing. Swallowed thickly. “Yes.”
“When?” Evelyn asked.
Wells watched her closely when she didn’t answer right away. “This morning, actually,” she finally said, sending a jolt of surprise to his gut. “I gave him the all-clear to begin working.”
Jim could barely sit still in his seat. “Putting green, drive-through window, and everything?”
Josephine nodded. “That’s right. We even discussed the idea of a consultation lounge where guests can look at drone footage of the holes and get advice on their strategy. I told him . . . to go for it.” Her laughter was light. “All the bells and whistles.”
The more Wells heard about the project, the more he started to relax. This kind of effort would take months, at least. He wouldn’t have to give up having Josephine as his caddie any time soon. Right? “What is the timeline?” he asked.
When she took a sip of water instead of answering him right away, his palms started to turn clammy. “Two to three weeks,” she said, searching his eyes. “The hurricane created such a need for rebuilding that they doubled the size of their crew. That should get us through the Masters, at the very least.”
He couldn’t be expected to speak when his throat was completely dry. “Yeah,” he managed. Two to three weeks? “The Masters.”
Something extremely worrisome was occurring to Wells.
A doubt that had been loitering in the back of his mind but with this revelation was making its way to the forefront, where it could no longer be ignored.
Could he even compete without Josephine?
When she left, who was going to talk him down off the ledge when he wanted to give up? Who was going to drop wisdom on him at the exact moment he needed it, in the perfect dose? No one, that’s who. There was no one else who had Josephine’s magic.
No one in the world.
When she left, where would that leave him? Sinking back down the leaderboard?
Would she want to maintain a relationship with someone who spent four out of every seven days on the road? Maybe she’d meet someone local. Another golfer, probably, since she worked at a pro shop. And this guy would be nice!
Dear God, he needed a distraction. Anything to keep him from begging this woman to stay with him on the tour, like a selfish prick, instead of realizing her own dreams. Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to drop the bill in the center of the table and sail away.
Wells stood, ripping his wallet out of his back pocket, credit cards spilling out. “Let’s go see that golf swing, belle. The fact that I haven’t yet is bullshit.”
“Ooh!” Evelyn patted her hair. “Now that’s some language.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Wells muttered.
Josephine hooted a laugh.
“No, no! I’m paying!” Jim half shouted.
“Yes. We insist!” Evelyn chimed in.
Wells and Jim lunged at the same time, proceeding to rip the check in half.
Evelyn buried her face in her napkin. “Lord have mercy on us all!”
“You can pay next time,” Jim blustered.
“I can pay every time!”
“Oh, like hell you will!”
Josephine burst into a laughing fit, falling back in her chair. With sparkling eyes, she looked over at him. “Are you sure you want a next time?”
“Yes, belle,” Wells growled, finally giving in to the unrelenting impulse to grab the leg of her chair and pull Josephine as close as possible, planting a firm kiss in the center of her forehead. “I want all of your next times.”
And he was dangerously close to asking her to remain his caddie indefinitely.
As in, forever. Through the Masters and beyond.
Apparently he was more selfish than he realized.
“Don’t think about the timeline,” she whispered.
“Impossible. But I’m going to try like hell for you.” Don’t kiss her mouth in front of her parents. You’ll never be able to stop. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” She brought her lips to his ears and whispered, “Happy birthdays, Wells.”
And there was nothing else to grab onto. Nothing to anchor his feet or keep him from slipping down the embankment into love. Total and complete worship of Josephine Doyle. He landed hard and didn’t even bother trying to get up.
Considering she’d just delivered her two weeks’ notice, it was a dangerous place to be.
