George Strait’s soothing voice floats over the speakers and I remember that movie he was in some years ago, Pure Country. I wonder what it would be like to leave my life—to head out to a ranch somewhere and disappear from everything and everyone who wants a piece of me.
And fall in love.
Real love.
Not the kind that NHL players fall into where they always wonder if their professional athlete status sealed the deal.
The kind of love that strips away all your layers until it finds your soul and sticks.
Meatball lets out a little yip as if to say, “Sue-Ann doesn’t give two shits that you play in the NHL.”
And she’s right. To Sue-Ann, that’s probably a detriment.
I slide to a stop at the curb in front of her house and jump out. Again, I admire her flowers and wonder how the hell she has time to take care of them. I know how hard she works and how many hours she puts in at the store. She arrives before I get there and stays long after I leave. If I could take some of that weight off her slender shoulders, I would. But I’m not much good to Sue outside of physical labor and basic tasks.
I punch the doorbell and wait until I hear footsteps heading toward the front door. She swings the door wide, and her face lights up with a smile when she sees me. I’ll take that as a good sign. Despite how much she tells herself I’m not good for her—too young for her, probably too immature and every other damn thing a woman uses as internal dialogue to talk herself out of a man—she can’t help the way she responds to me.
If she stopped for one damn heartbeat, she’d see that we complement each other. More importantly, we share the same values, but we have just enough that’s different to make things interesting.
“Hi,” she says, shutting and locking the door, then she gestures to her skinny jeans and t-shirt. “You said to dress casually. I hope this is okay.”
I let out a low whistle as I stare at that tight t-shirt. This is going to be a long day. At least until I can peel it off her. “Sue-Ann, you could be wearing a burlap sack, and you’d look hot as hell.”
She chuckles. “You mean the kind we used to use when we had sack races back in grade school? I used to hate those things. They were so scratchy.”
I put my hand in the small of her back until we reach the pickup and I hand her up into the seat. Meatball barks a greeting, and Sue-Ann pats her on the head. “You must be Meatball,” she says, cooing like a woman might talk to a newborn baby.
Of course, Meatball eats it up and leans into Sue’s hand, demanding that she pet harder and scratch underneath her chin just like she likes.
“I hope it’s okay that Meatball crashes our date,” I say. “I didn’t know how long we’d be gone, and I don’t have any siblings available for potty duty today.”
That’s a crock of shit. If I wanted, I could have dropped her off at my mom’s house. But I really wanted her along to soften up my new best girl with my current best girl.
“Are you kidding? I don’t get dog snuggles very often.”
Just as I swing back out onto the residential street, Meatball puts her paws on the back of the leather seat so she can lick Sue-Ann’s face, and I know right where this is headed. Unfortunately, I’m driving so I can’t stop what I know will happen next.
With a grunt and a wiggle of her seventy-pound ass, Meatball catapults herself over the seat and into Sue’s lap. A flurry of face licking, dog smiles, and tail pounding commences until Sue squeals.
“Uh… sorry. She doesn’t realize that she’s three times the size of your lap.” I grab Meatball by the collar and pull her off Sue and into the space between us.
“Is it one of those ‘if I fit, I sit’ situations? I thought those only applied to cats.”
So much for Meatball presenting as the well-behaved girl she usually is. She betrays me like Benedog Arnold and puts her front paws in Sue’s lap until she gets the scratches she wants.
“I think it applies to dogs too. And you know what’s even worse?”
She puts her arm around Meatball, pulling her in close, and I’m suddenly jealous of my own damn dog. “What?”
“My dog’s obviously a cockblocker.”
Sue’s laugh peals through the cab and my own lips tug upward. “She kind of is.”
“I want to hold your hand, but I can’t because the moment you stop petting her, she’s going to nudge you until you pet her again or throw her out the window. And I kind of like her, so please don’t do that, no matter how annoying she gets.”
Sue crosses her heart with her other hand. “I promise. So where are we going?”
I shrug. “It’s a surprise.”
“I love surprises. Actually, I’m just thrilled you planned a date, and I didn’t have to think about it.”
My eyes narrow as I grip the steering wheel. “You usually have to plan your own dates?”
“I guess maybe not plan them, but you guys are notorious for asking questions and being wishy-washy.”
“It’s because we want you to be happy. We don’t want to take you somewhere you don’t like.”
“Well, I’m pretty easy to please. And I like it when a man takes charge.”
I like it when a man takes charge.
I glance at her out of my peripheral vision as a vision flashes before my eyes of her wet mouth sucking me off right now, but she seems to have no idea what she just said. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
As Sue pets Meatball, she glances out the window and watches the town of Duluth fade into the distance. A little tremor darts through me as I consider how much I actually want to make this woman happy. How I planned this day down to the last detail, when I usually don’t give two shits about dates.
Because most of your dates have been hookups in disguise.
I shove away the unwelcome intrusion from the ghosts of the past. Cocking my head, I study the gorgeous pair of them for a moment as I sit at a stoplight. Meatball’s already fallen in love with Sue-Ann. The dog looks at her the same way she looks at Meg—like she hung the moon, invented the frisbee, and bakes dog biscuits from scratch.
She fits into my life already.
But do I fit into hers, or am I trying to pry my way in like a rusty crowbar?
Sue snuggles back into the leather and closes her eyes, humming along to the tune on the radio. When she opens them back up, she regards me carefully. “How far away is this place you’re taking me to?”
“About a half-hour or so. Hope that’s okay.”
A quick look of pleasure flashes across her face, and I already feel like her hero. What kind of asshats has she dated in the past that they didn’t care enough to take the time to make her feel special? Part of me wants to ask, but the other part doesn’t want to hear about the men in her past. There has to be some, because she is thirty-two.
I’m not ignorant, but ever since I claimed her as mine, I haven’t wanted to think about the dreaded exes. Sue’s articulate, witty, charming, and comfortable in her own skin, so I know I’m not the first man to care about her. Hell, it seems like Spencer cares about her. And she also has a feisty independence that I dig, even if that part of her is the part trying to pump the brakes when it comes to us.
We drive in companionable silence until I reach my destination, Stonehurst Falls in Biwabik. My name still can open some doors and with an agreement to appear in an online ad for them, I got them to cordon off the disc golf course for a few hours so we can play without kids demanding selfies. And Meatball can run around with her ball safely. After that, we’ll have our dinner that I ordered in advance. Stonehurst Falls will supply the food and a private dining room with a view.
Sue glances around, and her eyes widen. “I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been here. I think Emma’s sister got married here last summer.”
“Yeah, it’s a great place for events. The Caribou held a charity golf tournament here last year and I fell in love with it. There’s a lot to do and the views are stellar.”
She cl
aps her hands together. “I can’t wait. I don’t get outside enough.” Then she glances down at her arms. “As you can see from my lily-white skin.”
“Speaking of lilies, how do you keep that flowerbed in your front yard so vibrant?”
She smirks. “Automatic sprinkler system.”
“Ah. That makes sense. I was picturing you outside with your watering can at midnight. But in my fantasy, you were only wearing galoshes and gardening gloves.”
She swats me on the bicep. “Not even. That would give my neighbor, Mr. Miller, a coronary. I’ve always loved plants. Roses are my mom’s favorite flower. We always had them around the house when I was growing up. I guess they feel like home.”
I take her hand in mine and wonder how we became so comfortable already. I can’t remember the last time such a simple gesture seemed like so much. The feel of this woman’s small hand with my larger one wrapped around it dusts my chest with pleasure. “Do you see your folks a lot?”
“Not as much as I or they would like. Mom hoodwinks me into Sunday dinner every once in a while. But when you only get one day off a week, there are always so many errands to run to keep your life moving along. I tend to get bogged down in that and don’t get much of a chance to do things just for fun.” She lets go of my hand only long enough to grab my bicep and squeeze. “That’s why it’s been so nice having you around. When I have help, I don’t have to do as much myself.”
I bring her in for a one-armed hug. “I’m glad I’m helping. You’re going to miss me when I leave.”
After I let her go, I reach into the back and grab my bag and Meatball’s leash. I’m going to keep her on it until we reach our destination. You never know in a public place when someone could be afraid of dogs. She’d rather lick you to death than do anything else, but she’s still pretty big and strong. It would kill me if she jumped up and knocked down a kid or an old lady.
Once Meatball is legally restrained, I motion Sue toward the course.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sue-Ann
I trail behind Max until we reach a grassy field cordoned off by yards of white links. A Closed—Private Party sign swings from the top of it. Max completely ignores it and steps over the barrier with his trademark smirk.
He gives me a flourish of his hand. “Your course, milady.”
I stutter to a stop. “But we can’t go in there. There’s a private party.”
A chuckle cuts loose from his chest. “We are the private party.”
I hiss out an exhale. “No way. Really?”
“One thing you’ll learn about me. I never kid about frisbees. And neither does Meatball, do you, girl?”
She slobbers and gazes at Max adoringly and then back at me.
I’m already half in love with the dog.
Maybe I’m already half in love with her owner.
I shake my head and jump over the links as well, trailing after Max and Meatball as they head inside the disc golf course. I’ve never played it before, but I’m excited to try something new and step outside my comfort zone, which seems like all I’ve been doing since I met Max Monroe.
“I have a confession. I’m not very athletic. At least not like you are.”
“Well, you’re going to get initiated right because this is the longest disc golf course in the entire state. And I’m glad you’re wearing sneakers since there can be some rough terrain. It’s not just grass, but woods and rocks too. All told, it’s two miles long.”
I swallow down a lump of fear. If he can do it, so can I. How hard can it be to toss some discs around and try to get them to the target? “I’m game.”
He puts a backpack on his shoulder and retrieves a yellow tennis ball from it. “Meatball prefers balls. And we’re going to have to keep her busy or she’ll steal the discs off the course, and we won’t know who won.”
“Are you that competitive even when it’s just for fun?”
“Nah, not with you. I just like to know my score. I play all the time with my best friend Blaine and my brother. I need to know if I’m getting rusty, so they don’t kick my ass and then never let me hear the end of it.”
An easy smile overtakes my face. I want to know everything about him. “Blaine is your best friend? Isn’t he on the team?”
“We hit it off since we both joined the team the same year, and we’re both from around here. We played in Juniors at the same time but not for the same team. Blaine’s a good guy. He’s protected my ass once or twice when I’ve had my head up it. Prevented me from getting injured. He’s become like another brother.”
When we reach the first hole, I gaze up at Max. “Explain what I’m supposed to do.”
He hands me a disc and leans in. “This is your driver. See how it’s thinner? That means it’s going to go a much greater distance.”
I put my hand over my eyes and toward a copse of trees. “Where’s the hole?”
He laughs. “It’s actually a basket. And you can’t see it yet, but it’s over yonder.” He points off into the distance and even if I squint, I can’t see it. “Just aim and throw it as far as you possibly can, because just like golf, the object of the game is to get the disc into the basket with as few throws as possible. You want a low score and not a high score. Don’t step off the tee box or that’s a fault. Normally, I’d say ladies first, but I think it would be best if I showed you just this once.”
I watch Max’s powerful arms as he steps into the tee box and winds up. He steps forward a few feet to get maximum power and lets the disc fly. It goes about a hundred feet, Meatball barking after it until it hits the grass. She plops down right beside it and waits.
“Um… I think I can do that,” I say, gripping my driver disc tightly. I copy what I saw Max do and let the disc go, surprised when it goes almost as far as his does. I do a little celly dance on the balls of my feet. “Yay! I did it! Beginner’s luck!”
“Nice shot, superstar. Now we go and take our second shot and by that time, you should be able to see the basket for optimal aim.”
I trot after him as we make our way toward the discs and Meatball. “Do I go next since I’m the farthest away? Like in golf?”
“Yup. You have to keep your planted foot behind where your disc is laying so you don’t get a penalty. This time, we’ll use a different disc called a putter. Try for the basket, but just like in golf, if you don’t get it in, you want to lay it up nicely so it’s a gimme for your third shot. Make sense?”
I nod. “Totally. Just keep my foot behind the driver disc and release as close to the basket as possible.”
I wind up and throw, but my excitement causes me to overshoot the basket by about five feet. I have no idea if that’s a gimme as Max calls it.
He leans in and smacks me on the lips. “Nice. You’re a natural.”
Max releases his putter and it floats to the ground about a foot away. I tug my lower lip between my teeth. “Darn it. I’m the farthest away again.”
“You’re being too hard on yourself. I’ve been playing this since I was a kid. This is your first time. You know what happened when Meg played for the first time? She got triple what Matt and I scored. She literally almost threw her rotator cuff out of joint she had to throw so many times. You’re doing better than any rookie I’ve ever seen.”
His t-shirt hugs his muscles in all the right places, and I can’t rip my gaze away. “It must be because you’re my teacher.”
He rolls his eyes. “Thank God there’s something I can teach you that you don’t already know.”
Once I reach my putter, I turn to Max. “Can I use this same disc since it’s the putter?”
“Yup. You only need to change if you’re going to change discs, just like you would change clubs in golf.”
I pick up my putter and concentrate. For some crazy reason, I want him to be proud of me and how good I’m doing. Which is strange. But I don’t analyze it right now, I just gently toss my putter toward the basket and jump up and down when it goes in. “I got a three!”<
br />
“That’s par for this hole. You did great! I’m so proud of you!” Max grabs me around the waist and swings me around until Meatball lets out an excited bark.
After he dunks his putter too, we go on and on like that for a few more holes. I fish a rubber band out of my pocket and put my long hair in a pony so I can see better and to get it off the back of my neck.
Once we finish the fifth hole, Max slides the backpack off his shoulder, and it hits the ground with a thud.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
“Break time,” he answers, gesturing for me to follow him. He weaves his way into a wooded area, and Meatball and I trail behind until I hear the rush of water. The farther we go into the woods, the louder it becomes.
He grabs my hand and tugs me along until we come to the base of the most gorgeous waterfall gushing over a rocked embankment and into a flowing stream.
“This is how this place got its name. This is Stonehurst. Isn’t it pretty?”
I gasp and step closer. “Oh, it’s stunning. I love it. Thanks for bringing me here.”
He pulls a blanket out of the backpack and lays it out on the ground for us atop the dried foliage carpeting the forest floor. “My pleasure. I thought we could hang out here for a few minutes and watch the water while we rest up for the rest of our round.”
After I get settled, Max puts Meatball in a down stay a few yards away and offers her a bully stick to keep her occupied. He flops down on the cushy blanket beside me and pulls me in close, so I nestle in the crook of his shoulder. I can’t stop my hands from running down the length of his arm, feeling his muscles move underneath my fingertips.
“That feels good,” he says on a groan, leaning back and shutting his eyes.
“Tell me more about your family,” I say, moving my fingers to his chest. I want to let them drift lower, but I negotiated no vertical. Instead, I fist them just to keep them from breaking my own promise. What I really want is to run them along his inner thigh, feel the warmth of his skin, and see if he twitches underneath my touch.
Gamed (Minnesota Caribou Book 4) Page 12
