Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91286 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“Wow. I would … wow.”
He would either pass out or prematurely blow his load. But it’s best for his sake that Belinda sticks to abusing Connor.
I reach over to ruffle Archie’s hair as we pull up to the first hole. “Now, be a good caddie and don’t let me look stupid.”
“Nice birdie!” Archie exclaims as I retrieve my ball and toss it to him.
“That means one under par, right?” He’s been coaching me on the terms and scoring between holes.
“You got it.”
We close the distance to where the others wait, having shot their rounds already.
“Did I hear you say you don’t golf?” Mark calls out, doubt lacing his thick accent. Arkansas, if I had to guess.
“Beginner’s luck.” Though I’ve been averaging par or close to it on each hole. If this keeps up, I could walk away with a score in the low eighties, which, according to Archie, is unheard of for a guy who doesn’t know how to play and hates everything about the game.
“Seems like Henry’s brought in a ringer,” Jim muses beside him, equally suspicious.
“Now, why would I do that, gentlemen? He’s got no skin in it. Do you, Ronan?” Henry smiles knowingly.
“Not a dime.” Meanwhile, these rich assholes have thrown in ten thousand apiece in a private pool, winner takes all. I think that’s why they came down here—to golf, gamble, and tell tall tales about women they’ll never fuck. I haven’t heard a word about Axis Core booking their next event.
“A distraction, then. Another one of Henry’s head games.” Jim wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm. We’re halfway through the round, it’s hot as hell out here, and I won’t be surprised if we have to call an ambulance for the guy before it’s all said and done.
An ear-piercing rooster call sounds then, earning a round of winces.
“Now, that’s a distraction,” Mark says. “Dang, Henry, where’s that comin’ from?”
“The neighbor,” he grumbles. “We’re dealing with it.”
No, you’re not. I grin at the tree line. Is Sloane over there, poking Ralph to get him to sing? I wouldn’t be surprised.
I should call her. I really want to, just to hear her voice. I hated rushing out of her bed this morning. Then she sideswiped me with baby talk while I was putting on my pants. I was not expecting it—that early in the day and the relationship.
“So, Henry, we’re halfway through the game. I think we’ve given it enough time.” Mark’s mischievous gaze darts to Jim. “What’s with the shiner?”
“Why? You like it?”
He throws his arms out. “Who the hell punched you in the face? Who’d be that stupid?”
Archie bolts for the golf cart with my clubs slung over his shoulder as if to avoid a pending explosion.
“That is a very good question.” Henry stalls answering with a long, leisurely sip of his bottled water. “Ronan? You have any idea who that guy was?”
“Nope. No idea.” With a shrug, I saunter toward the carts.
17. Sloane
“Ex-army? You didn’t think to mention that?”
“Why? Is that a bad thing?” Frank hovers over the espresso maker that quit halfway through the early morning rush, turning a tiny screwdriver with his giant hands. I would have had to replace the pricey machine by now if not for him and his uncanny skills with mechanical things.
“No, it’s good. It’s great. She’ll be on time and a hard worker.” I scan the dates. Bailey must be in her mid-thirties, at least. She’s mature. Another positive.
“Hey, New Girl, more water,” Frank hollers, waving an empty pitcher.
I roll my eyes. “Her name is Lara.”
She sweeps in with a laugh. She doesn’t seem bothered.
“Did Bailey say why she left the army?”
“Nope, and I didn’t ask. She said she was looking for something fun and stress-free, and a summer contract on the water would be ideal.”
“As long as she wasn’t dishonorably discharged. “
Frank tosses the screwdriver to the counter and wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm. “I’m sure you’ll find out as soon as you get her in for an interview.”
“Who’s coming in for an interview?” Skye sweeps past on her way to the storage fridge to replenish the milk and cream before another round of customers arrives. “New tiki captain. Potential new tiki captain,” I correct. I have to meet her first. “So no one has to be subjected to Frank anymore.”
Frank waves his middle finger in the air before snagging a different tiny screwdriver and returning to his work.
“How do such meaty paws handle such delicate instruments,” I mock ponder.
Skye returns with two full cartons. “That would be amazing. Then all you’d need is one more, and you wouldn’t have to be out there every afternoon.”
“And then I could do all the work I’m supposed to do. Wouldn’t that be nice.” I sigh.
“Thought you hired Lover Boy,” Frank mutters, and I can’t tell if he’s just being Frank or if he still disapproves.