Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
It loosens the tension in my shoulders, and a low laugh leaves me. “I am quite a fan of it, actually. College student, remember?” I tease, but then lift my drink. “I just have plans with Chase today and I don’t want to get that guaranteed need to nap that would most definitely follow.”
In my peripheral, I catch my grandfather’s head whip my way, but Prescott continues before I turn to him.
“Ah.” He chuckles lightly, motioning to the glass in my hand, and I pass it back. “See, once you get to be my ancient age and business meetings are held over afternoon cheese and wine or whiskey and dessert, you get used to it and then you pass out by eight.” He smiles.
“You act like you’re much older than me. You’re, what, thirty?”
“Give or take a few years.” His grin spreads wider and I laugh, shaking my head.
“Well, looks like I’m up.” Prescott sets his drinks down on the back of the cart and steps up to take his shot, or whatever they call it in golf.
“So.” My grandfather steps closer. “Plans tonight, hmm?”
I squish my lips to the side, biting back a smile at how he’s trying to act casual and failing. “Yes. Tomorrow is a really important game for him, so tonight is just about…” I take a deep breath, glancing toward the tree line. “Mindset, I guess.”
“Ah, yes. I saw the announcement on the Avix Inquirer a few days ago. Rivalry game, isn’t it?” His eyes slide my way briefly.
“Yeah.” I nod, chuckling lightly. “You read the Avix Inquirer?”
“I do now.”
“It’s an Instagram account.”
“Yes, sweetheart. I am not that old.” He chuckles, passing his empty glass back to the caddy, who waits for Prescott to return and grab his drink before driving over to the next group. “Besides, I like to be aware of things in your life. And the people that are in it. Makes me feel like I’m not missing out when I’m stuck behind my desk.”
Prescott catches the tail end of the conversation and grins. “Oh, come on, old man. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if your day wasn’t work from sunup to sundown.”
“True. But one day I’ll have a little great-grandbaby to distract me. I can bring him to golf lessons and teach him how to drive the cart.”
Prescott laughs, but I shake my head.
“No way. Football practice maybe.” The words leave me before I realize it and my cheeks blaze when both men face my way. “Or, you know, dance or something.”
“Hmm” is the only sound that my grandpa makes, and he turns away.
“I saw some highlights on ESPN the other night.” Prescott meets my gaze. “They mentioned Chase a few times, and there was talk about the quarterback already being a guarantee for the draft in April. Johnson, I think his name is?”
My smile is instant, and I nod. “Mason, yeah. He’s one of Chase’s oldest friends. He and Brady, our first-string defensive end, and their other best friend have had unofficial interest from several teams for the last few seasons, so they’ve stayed on their game. But tomorrow”—I can’t help the grin that breaks across my face—“Chase gets his chance to earn his own.”
Prescott’s brows jump. “He has scouts coming?”
I nod vigorously.
“Wow.” He pauses, his interest polite and genuine. “Big day for him.”
“It is,” I say quietly. “He’s worked really hard for this.”
My grandpa hums. “You build something with hard work. But you protect it with loyalty.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t push, though the words seem to burrow deeper than I expect, catching on old wounds I didn’t realize I had. My mother didn’t choose loyalty in the end, but I wonder, in some way, if he’s not just talking about her or the business she was supposed to take over.
Pulling my phone out, I send Chase a quick message, then tuck it back away in my purse.
We make small talk as we move along the green strips, folding over the hills until the country club finally comes back into view.
Prescott lets out a low whistle, and I look just as the golf ball falls near the tall stick with the little flag sticking out. It must have gone where he wants because he turns around with wide arms and a grin. “Not bad for an afternoon’s work.”
“Not bad,” I echo, but my gaze is already shifting, tugged toward a figure emerging over a small hill.
My heart kicks.
The sun flashes across his face and then his eyes find mine, sending an instant warmth through me. He strides over, all tall and broad and confident, like he owns the damn place.
Or maybe it’s just that he owns what he’s come to collect.
Me.
Without hesitation, he crosses the grass and scoops me up, spinning me once in the air before setting me down, my laughter spilling free.