“I’ll break Bartow in half for this.”
“I called Rhett,” Ian said.
“What?” Aidan shouted. “What the hell for?”
“Because in case ye haven’t noticed, lad, this crap has turned deadly, and ye’re in the middle of it. Ye got no one to testify for ye now, and if ye send yer lawyers in here, someone will slip or a resident will be making the connection.” The Highlander’s burr always became more pronounced when he got excited or angry. “Ye said this is Rhett’s project too, so it also concerns him. He can send his lawyers in here, and no one will make the connection to ye. His lawyers can make the assault charge go away since it’s a bollocks deal anyway.”
Aidan knew his friend made sense, but he hated to ask Rhett for help.
Ian, who’d been close to him since college days, read his expression. “For the love of God, Aidan. Ye canna carry the world all on yer own. Ye’re not Superman, and ye canna fix everything and everybody without asking for help now and again.”
Aidan shook his head.
Ian grabbed his shoulder hard. “It’s what friends do.”
He sighed.
“Rhett’s lawyers will start their own investigation first thing in the morning. He’s chomping at the bit to come here, especially when he heard ye were playing a two-man stroke-play match tomorrow.”
Aidan scowled. “He’ll throw my concentration off if he’s here.”
“That’s what I told him.”
“And?”
Ian only shrugged. “Ye need to call the big Mick and add that insurance broker to yer list.”
“Right. Can you give me a lift home?”
~ ~ ~
Aidan hadn’t slept well, tossing and turning with worries about Big Louie and his family and about the ramifications of his golf match today. At least last night, he had convinced Frank—over a single glass of scotch—to accept a low-interest loan from Aidan’s “friend” should Aidan screw up today and lose the match. Then just before drifting off to sleep, he remembered it was his turn for breakfast, so at dawn he hightailed it to Talley’s Bakery. Frank didn’t complain, snagging what he wanted from the bakery bag on his way out the door.
“Got to make sure everything looks perfect on the course,” he said, as he closed the back door behind him.
Casey made her way into the kitchen an hour later, took one look, and said, “Donuts? Again?”
“Take another look, brat,” Aidan said indignantly. “Those are bagels. Six different kinds since I didn’t know what you liked.”
She broke into laughter. “You should have seen your face just now.”
“Why you little—”
Aidan grabbed her and spun her around until she squealed. While she was still off-balance, he hugged her close for a devouring kiss. Whether the anxiety of his situation or the worry about today’s match, he didn’t know, but like always, Casey’s kiss sent him from zero to sixty in a handful of heartbeats. Made him wild to forget everything except his girl in his arms.
Mine. All mine.
He gentled the kiss quickly—no time for this today—then nuzzled her cheek and her neck before one last brush of his lips across hers.
She patted her palms on his chest and beamed up at him. “Stop worrying. You’ll beat the pants off PJ.” With a peck on his cheek, she grabbed a bagel and headed downstairs to warm up the Jeep.
How had she known? He hadn’t said a word about being worried. Could she know him so well? No woman ever had before, but then women he dated never tried very hard, being more interested in what he could buy them. Maybe he had gravitated toward women like that because they were safer. His dates acted precisely as he expected. No surprises. He knew exactly how to deal with them.
He stared after Casey and felt an immense wave of relief that he and Casey were back together, but what now? What did their together entail? What comes next? Was he ready for a next?
Before new worries could overwhelm him, he tossed the bagels back in the bag and followed her out to the Jeep.
Aidan intended to hit a bucket of balls before PJ arrived at the course. His opponent had been told he could show up with his caddy Jimmy at noon, for an hour on the driving range and putting green before the match started at one o’clock.
Aidan intended to be done practicing before PJ ever arrived. Let the jerk wonder about Aidan’s skill. Just the image of PJ attacking Casey on the course that day was enough to set Aidan’s blood to boiling, and he couldn’t afford to conjure up that image today. He needed to be calm and focused from hole one right through eighteen. He wanted no surprises.
He didn’t get his wish.
The sheriff’s cruiser sat parked on the gravel path next to the maintenance shed when the Jeep pulled into the parking lot. Watson had Frank cornered outside. Frank’s arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression looked mutinous.
“What does that jackass want now?” Casey hissed.
“You stay here,” Aidan ordered as he exited the Jeep.
“Not a chance,” she retorted, then threw the Jeep in park and climbed out right behind him.
Aidan sprinted for the maintenance shed. “What’s going on, Frank?”
“Sheriff Watson here wants to talk to you.”
“In private,” Watson sneered.
“Take Casey to the pro shop, Frank,” Aidan said quietly.
Ignoring his niece’s squawked protest of “Not without a lawyer,” Frank led her off to the main building.
“Well?” Aidan narrowed his eyes and stepped in close to accent their difference in height.
Stupid to antagonize the sheriff, but this guy was dirty, and Aidan knew it. He’d prove it too, if it was the last thing he ever did.
Watson stood his ground and glared up at Aidan. “Some muckety-muck from Palm Beach sent lawyers to the state attorney’s office to get them to look into your assault charge, Crosse.” His lip curled. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Aidan smiled, more of a grimace probably. “I didn’t call a soul about my assault charge. Maybe someone thinks you’re dirty, Sheriff.”
Watson’s face tinted a dull red, then darkened to a shade close to purple. “You listen to me, you punk. You better watch yourself. You ain’t got no witness for your case now, so your ass is mine.”
Aidan’s right hand tightened into a fist. “And how would you know I’ve got no witness now?”
Either the menace in Aidan’s voice or the realization he had given himself away morphed Watson’s sneer into surprise before he quickly shuttered his expression.
He stabbed a finger at Aidan. “You answer my questions. I don’t answer yours. You better remember what I said. Your ass is mine, and if I get my way, you’ll be doing your time right here in my jail.” With that, Watson jumped in his cruiser and stormed off.
“Should you be poking the sheriff like that?” a timid voice asked from the interior of the shed, and a moment later, Rory stepped out into the morning sunshine.
Aidan grinned at his young friend. “Were you eavesdropping, Rory?”
He gave Aidan a sheepish look. “I came early to see if you needed me before the match.”
“Did you skip school?”
The kid looked away. “Maybe.”
“Bad idea, Rory.”
“Yeah, I knew you’d say that, but I just couldn’t miss the match.”
“All right. Just this once.”
Rory grinned.
“Actually you can help. Take three or four buckets of balls to the driving range for me.”
“Sure thing! This is so cool that you’re going to beat PJ’s ass today.”
“Hey, language!”
The boy’s grin only deepened. “Sorry.”
Aidan shook his
head. “I’m glad everyone around here is so confident of my victory.”
Rory shoved the baskets in the back of a golf cart and climbed in. “Oh, and one other thing.”
“What’s that?”
“My dad was real upset over what happened to Big Louie last night.”
“Scared upset?” Aidan would hate that anything he did made the residents more fearful of their lives in Cypress Key.
“No! Pissed off upset,” Rory replied cheerfully and drove to the driving range.
Aidan noticed Frank had left the storage closet open so he could retrieve Frank’s clubs, but his cell phone rang before he could maneuver the bag out.
When he saw the display, he groaned. “Hey, Rhett.”
“I hear you’ve been causing a boatload of trouble over on the west coast, so I called in some reinforcements.”
“Your attorneys didn’t waste any time.”
“That’s what I was calling to tell you. Your small-town sheriff has a real hard-on for you, and he’s making threats of his own.”
“Is he really?”
“Says he has friends he’s going to call in Tallahassee about the state attorney’s interference.”
“Do you think these friends exist?” Aidan wanted to know.
“My attorneys think he’s bluffing, but I called to tell you to watch your back until we can get this resolved,” Rhett ordered.
“Yeah, everybody’s been telling me that.”
“Who’s everybody?”
“Shaunessy, Ian, Frank Stuart here in town. Hell, half the town has warned me.”
A long silence made Aidan check the display to see if he had been disconnected.
“Maybe this isn’t the right venue for our resort, Aidan. We could sell the property and start fresh together somewhere else.”
“No!” Aidan blurted, a lot louder than he intended. “I want the resort here, Rhett,” he added, softening his tone.
“What’s so special about Cypress Key?”
Now Aidan waited to answer. What should he tell his partner? He owed his friend the truth. And he realized in that moment his real reason for wanting the project here was more than just him trying to prove his worth to Rhett.
“It’s the right town for me. I mean, us,” he attempted.
“Why?”
His friend wasn’t arguing. Rhett sounded like he really wanted to know. Aidan knew he did, because Rhett cared about his friends, always watched out for them.
Aidan pulled a deep breath. “I’ve never felt like I belonged anywhere. I mean, really belonged. Until now.”
Rhett didn’t answer for a fistful of heartbeats. “Okay then, Cypress Key it is.”
“Thanks.”
“You know, Aidan, I used to feel the exact same way.”
That shocked him. “You mean about Jupiter?”
“Yes, Jupiter or about Palm Beach or BDC or any of it. All temporary stopping points until I found a place where I felt like I belonged.”
Aidan never would have guessed that. His friend had always seemed so sure of himself, all the way back to their college days.
He had to know. “Where did you decide you really belonged?”
“Wherever Lily was.”
Rhett clicked off before Aidan could sputter a response.
~ ~ ~
PJ Bartow and Jimmy Batten arrived at noon on the dot, both acting cocky and strutting about while they readied PJ’s bag and ordered Rory to carry baskets of balls to the driving range and “keep them coming.”
Ian had pulled in right after Watson drove away, so he was there for the PJ-and-Jimmy show. “That’s a pair to draw to,” he muttered under his breath and tried to get Aidan to practice his putting.
“Not a chance,” Aidan told him. “PJ will see what he’s up against when he gets to the first hole.”
“Up to ye, lad.”
“Rhett called me just before you arrived.”
Ian raised his brows in question.
“He told me to watch my back, which I already knew. Sheriff Watson was here, making threats.”
“I wondered when I passed his cruiser coming in. What was the wanker after?”
“He complained about Palm Beach attorneys siccing the state attorney’s office on my case.”
“Rhett worried?”
“Only that something might happen before his lawyers straighten out this arrest setup,” Aidan told him.
“Good advice. That all he said?”
“No. He tried to get me to pull the plug on our resort. Find a new spot.”
“And?”
“I told him the truth.”
Ian waited.
“I told him I feel like I belong here—belong somewhere for the first time in my life.”
The big Scot’s lips twitched, and his smile grew steadily. “Good enough. Now let’s go beat these two wankers.”
“Rhett never mentioned the match.”
“I told him not to. Told him he’d make Prince Charming nervous.”
Aidan shoved him off the path to the cart barn.
Frank had set up the small tent he used for private golf outings—for sponsors to relax and hand out giveaways or box lunches or whatever the event called for—out in front of the tee box at the first hole. Casey and Mamie had set up shop there at two tables Rory and Frank had carried down from the snack bar. Casey would sell tickets, and Mamie would sell drinks and the sandwiches she had been up making since dawn.
Aidan just shook his head and hoped the two wouldn’t be disappointed when only a handful of folks showed up to watch. Apparently, the two women knew their Cypress Key population far better than he did.
Carloads of residents began appearing shortly after PJ’s arrival, and most folks went up to the driving range after purchasing their tickets, much to PJ’s delight. Casey couldn’t sell tickets fast enough—Rory had to come over and help her—and Mamie sold every sandwich she had, so Frank had to go get extension cords, Mamie’s hot dog roller and bun warmer, and the boxes of snacks out of storage. He practically did a jig.
The crowd made Ian nervous. “Are ye going to be okay playing in front of this crowd?”
“As okay as PJ is, I imagine. I only have to beat him,” Aidan reminded the worried Highlander.
“Ye havena played in front of crowds since ye played yer college tourneys.” His Scottish burr rang heavy.
“I’m good,” Aidan reassured him. “Keep it up though, and you’ll make me nervous.”
Ian’s eyes went wide, and Aidan roared with laughter. “You just make sure you got the distances and slopes right, and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Cocky bastard,” Ian murmured under his breath.
Only Aidan knew his attitude to be all show. He needed to have Ian remain calm because he certainly wasn’t. No match had ever meant this much before. In college, a loss just meant one less trophy to carry home for his father to ignore. A loss here, well, that didn’t even bear thinking about.
Deep breaths. Just take plenty of deep breaths.
He’d never choked in a tournament, and he didn’t intend to start today.
Ian made a last count of all the clubs—since they would play by PGA rules—and shouldered Frank’s golf bag.
Aidan clapped him on the back. “Ready to do this, princess?”
Ian glowered. “Not smart, lad. Only a fool besmirches a man’s masculinity when he’s carrying a five-iron.”
Aidan chuckled, and finally, Ian did too.
Showtime.
Chapter 21
Aidan felt fairly certain all of Cypress Key lined the tee box and fairway on the first hole where PJ and Jimmy waited. He wondered if every business in town had closed for the match. Fra
nk stood next to him, ready to officially start play.
“The ticket and food sales alone will probably pay for the mower,” Frank murmured to Aidan.
He blew out a sigh of relief, but his nerves didn’t recede since he had never worried about Frank’s mower bill being paid. He would have taken care of the bill regardless. His worry was all about giving PJ Bartow access to Casey again on a regular basis.
“Good to know,” he told Frank.
“Who’s this big galoot?” PJ called to Aidan with a nod toward Ian.
The Highlander had at least three inches and thirty pounds on PJ. Was the guy stupid, or did he have a death wish?
“This is Ian MacVicar, my caddy,” he told PJ.
Ian never gave them a nod, only gave them his laird stare. Jimmy had the smarts to pale. PJ only smirked. Idiot.
Ian wiped the driver grip down and handed it over with a grin. “Hit the ever-loving shite out of it, lad,” he urged softly. “Be done with this foolishness early.”
“Right.”
Frank made his official introductions, and the crowd judiciously clapped hard for both men. Especially since Mayor Bartow with Evelyn in tow had arrived only moments before, and residents had made space for them at the first tee.
PJ won the coin toss to drive first and played to the crowd, making his warm-up swings whistle through the air. Whoever won the preceding hole would drive first for the remaining holes. If a tie occurred, PJ would keep the honors until Aidan went ahead. If he went ahead.
Aidan refused to consider that option. Casey had evidently decided everyone who was coming was here, and she left Mamie to sell tickets to latecomers along with her hot dogs and drinks. Casey took up a spot next to her uncle on the tee and didn’t care who saw her blatantly roll her eyes at PJ’s grandstanding.
“Good luck,” she mouthed to Aidan with a wink.
PJ finally addressed the ball and hit his drive, straight down the middle of the par four 468-yard first hole.
PAR FOR CINDERELLA Page 28
