by M. Sinclair
I had to trust someone I didn’t know with my vulnerabilities.
Trust they would keep my information confidential.
Trust they wouldn’t judge me.
Honestly, it was just a really terrifying concept overall.
So yes, the media aspect was somewhat unavoidable, and when we had first arrived at Ivy Grove this morning, there had been news vans lined up outside of the club’s gates. Luckily, it didn’t seem to be getting aggressive, but the security was pretty tight and seemed heavier than normal, so clearly my dad had anticipated this.
Once we were through the gates, the environment was much more relaxed and familiar. My parents told me they’d chosen to only allow select sources into the property, so once we were inside, everything seemed a bit more normal than the chaos outside. Honestly, it made me feel a world better from the night before, and by the time we walked inside, I was feeling far more upbeat. Heck, I wasn’t even tired despite not having slept yet.
While I felt a lot of the guests—both international and local—staring, they had enough social grace to not mention the situation at hand. People around here were fantastic at that. Plus, I think people were focused on the golf aspect, the bubbly energy making me feel almost hyper as I bounced around the club house.
Ian was gone. I had to continue to remind myself of that, because there was still an edge to everything in my brain, the shifting of people in my peripheral making me still a bit. Luckily, no one tried to approach me besides my guys and Wildberry Lane family. The others clearly valued their membership here and wanted to be invited back next year. For once, I wasn’t complaining about the extreme exclusivity that this place fostered.
While this charity tournament was annual, the club was also home to three major golf tournaments throughout the year, as well as statewide and collegiate matches. It was an impressive club and even more stunning golf course, which was saying something since I honestly didn’t have an eye or care for what made courses ‘good’ or not. Still, I’d been to my fair share throughout the years, and the landscaping design of this course stood out.
That wasn’t even mentioning that the architect who had been hired to build up the clubhouse had been world-renowned. While I absolutely enjoyed the style of it, I didn’t even want to consider how much their commission had been… I knew my parents could be a bit extreme when it came so stuff like that.
Letting out a small yawn, I rolled back my shoulders and looked over the landscape of hole seventeen, where we were currently parked. The noon hour was ticking by, and my frame was comfortably cradled by my golf cart’s plush seat, exactly how I preferred it. I didn’t play golf very often, but I did enjoy watching it because it took a level of skill that I could appreciate.
Mostly because I was so damn awful at it. No amount of practice could fix the issue—trust me, I’d tried lessons for years and years—it just wasn’t in the cards for me. The sport did, however, get extra brownie points because my boys looked sexy playing it and because I never had to overthink my outfit while heading to the course.
No, seriously—an entire section of my closet was dedicated to what I deemed my ‘country club uniform.’ It consisted of a myriad of athletic skorts—you know, the cute skirts with shorts underneath—sleeveless polos in an array of bright colors, and matching shoes. Today I’d chosen to wear a skort that featured a bright pink and green pattern and a matching top, my dark sunglasses perched on top of my nose and my hair pulled back into a sleek, high ponytail that was tied off with a silk ribbon.
Luckily, despite the heat and humidity that had infused Saturday morning in an unbearable weight—which was saying something, coming from me—the outfit kept me comfortable in temperature.
My mom’s laugh echoed across the lawn, drawing my attention from my thoughts to where she sat on a golf cart with Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Ross, and Mrs. Gates. The familiar faces of the women I’d grown up around made me smile as I wondered briefly how I would ever move away from all of this. Did I have to? Probably.
I mean, even if I could stay at home forever, eventually the guys would move away… and I didn’t want to hang around while they got married and started families. I was willing to deal with a lot, but I knew I couldn’t go through that.
Now that we were done with school, I just had to figure out how I wanted to handle all of that. Did I put distance between us? Did I start dating? I didn’t like that train of thought, so I shook it from my headspace, knowing it didn’t really belong there. I had time. We were young, so I wouldn’t worry about it yet.
Haven Ross, Kingston’s mom, sat next to my own mom and talked in a low, hushed whisper, no doubt gossiping about some of the other women and their husbands, who were following a few holes behind us. I knew there was a particular family Mrs. Ross disliked, but I didn’t know them personally. I couldn’t even remember their names. Still, I trusted her opinion, and if she knew something that made her not like them, it was no doubt accurate.
I had to give her this—the woman knew everyone’s business. No, really, I meant that. She literally had information on everyone, and while usually she had a light-hearted tone to her, I did feel like there was another side to her I wasn’t understanding fully. But that was a feeling that both Ross parents inspired, and it probably had to do with their lifestyle of working in international trade. My father had mentioned how tense it could be.
Usually, though, she was just Mrs. Ross. The woman who was like a second mom to me, loved gossiping, and had impeccable fashion sense. Heck, even my own mother admitted she had the best sense of style out of anyone she’d met. It was probably one of the reasons that she always came with whenever we went shopping. Throughout high school, she’d always come when I picked out dresses for events and dances. Mind you, she had a bit of a vested interest because I almost always went to dances with the boys as a group and she loved a good picture, but her opinion was still appreciated.
And yes, we did go to dances as a group.
It wasn’t like I was going to go with anyone else—who did I really spend time with outside of them? Plus, when some guy from our class had attempted to ask me, Yates had been… unhappy. So ever since then, it had just been the five of us at every dance.
Honestly, having four different dance partners was very fun. Stratton never showed up despite me inviting him every single time, but I had stopped being disappointed by that. If he thought that would persuade me to drop our friendship, he had another thing coming. I was persistent as all get-out when it came to the people I cared about.
I knew he would give in one day—I promise you that.
This morning, all of the moms were dressed similarly to myself. Haven’s golden hair was swept back in a ponytail, and she was wearing a white polo dress with a designer scarf around her neck, perfecting the picture of elegance I’d come to expect from her.
Then there was Trinity Gates, the twins’ mom. She was essentially the exact opposite of Haven in the best way possible. Her strawberry blonde hair was a mess of curls that she didn’t bother to style, and she wore bright blue framed glasses that made her brown eyes stand out all that much more. Unlike the other moms, she wore a patterned sundress that I recognized from her trip to Sri Lanka only last year.
It didn’t matter that her dress wasn’t ‘normal’ country club attire, because with the amount of influence and money she had, the woman could wear and do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Gates Unity funded hundreds of thousands of different relief efforts across the globe—some of which would be funded by today’s event—so she was always traveling back and forth. The number of international political events that she’d been invited to blew my mind, and somehow, despite the busy schedule she and her husband kept, they never seemed frazzled. Rather the opposite, taking everything in an easy and relaxed stride.
I did love hearing about their trips, though, and seeing the photos she took inspired me to go abroad myself. Trinity had mentioned to me that she had always wanted a daughter, and while I kn
ew she obviously loved the twins, I very gladly took that position and had considered even taking her up on the idea of traveling with her to practice my photography skills.
I know, a burden I would willingly take, right?
I’d been sitting with the four of them for most of the morning, but I’d moved over to this empty cart my boys were using as they played this particular hole. Dermot, who had chosen not to play today, stood next to the cart, watching the match with interest. After last night, I’d been a little worried things would be weird between us, because obviously it had been really intense and we didn’t know each other well… but he was acting perfectly normal. In fact, I almost felt closer to him than before, and it was really nice. I kept expecting for there to be some level of discomfort between the two of us, but instead it was like we were just meant to get along.
Plus, I had to admit, the man cleaned up really well, and I was fully enjoying the view. He had looked amazing in a tux last night, but right now, with his auburn hair styled back and his jaw freshly shaved? I was having issues not staring at him. His large, muscular build was covered in a dark green polo, embroidered with what I believe was the Ross family crest, with tan athletic pants that made his butt look fantastic.
I know! I didn’t even realize I had a thing for butts, but I couldn’t lie, the man had a great one. It felt wrong not to appreciate a great ass.
“What was that?” Dermot asked, his accent thickening with slight heat as my eyes widened. I snapped my head away, looking around, as if I wasn’t the one who had just clearly said that last comment out loud.
Good job, Dahlia! Way to sound like a weirdo.
“Ever play?” I asked, nodding towards the others, attempting to distract from my very obvious awkwardness.
His amusement was clear as he decided to let me off the hook. “No. Can’t say it’s ever interested me. I have watched plenty enough, but if I’m going to play something, it’s probably going to be football or cricket. I played it through most of school.”
I liked him more because he didn’t like golf.
“High school?” I asked curiously.
“After sixth form I stopped playing so seriously, but I still managed to join in on a few matches while at Trinity,” he explained in a happy, relaxed tone. I blinked at him, wondering how much of an idiot I would sound like for asking what sixth form was and the age he’d been and how the heck he’d been… did he say he went to Trinity?!
“You went to Trinity University?” I asked curiously.
“Finished this past spring.” He nodded and then smiled. “Why?”
“I just didn’t expect that,” I said, then tilted my head. “What did you study?”
“I’m full of surprises, lass.” Dermot’s smirk was a bit hot as I blushed. He continued, though, saving me from looking like a pink-faced idiot all because he smiled. “Economics, actually. Although whether I’ll use it or not is up in the air.”
“Wow.” I put my elbow up on the seat and continued my obnoxious questioning. “So which do you like more—soccer or cricket?”
“Football,” he scowled.
“Totally soccer,” I mused. Not that I was complaining—I found soccer players totally hot. I could imagine him shirtless on the field… just saying.
Dermot’s eyes flashed dark as he continued, “What about you? Don’t play golf? I imagine you’re here more often than not.”
“I actually am terrible at it,” I said, flashing a smile. “I’m decent at tennis, but that is where my athletic talent starts and stops.”
“Dahlia is fantastic at tennis, don’t let her hustle you,” Yates stated as he walked over, putting his choice of club away in his silver, personalized golf bag. One that I may have possibly purchased for him…
What? It was a good Christmas present! For my archnemesis. Yeah, I was understanding the problem with my logic.
I couldn’t help but smile a bit at his miffed tone regarding tennis. Yates had lost to me every single time we’d played, and every single time his reaction was better than the last. My heart squeezed with a bit of affection thinking about last night, and the night before that after we’d gotten into what now felt like a stupid arguement.
Yates had always been overprotective, so it didn’t surprise me he was pushing me to open up—I just didn’t want to burden him with what I knew would devastate him. He was an ass… but he was possibly my ass. At least that was what it felt like when I was in his arms. I found it harder to stay ‘mad’ at him the more time we spent together.
I would still take pleasure in him being bitter over his awful tennis game. He was good enough at literally everything else, he could deal.
This morning, Yates was dressed in a similar outfit to Dermot and most of my guys, but he also had the addition of his sunglasses that laid on a band around his neck. I nibbled my lip, realizing that I’d also gotten him those. It was possible I had a problem…
We had a lot of Christmas and birthday celebrations to account for! I actually had a running list of things the boys brought up on a whim for ideas when either event came to pass. It was why I’d been so excited about these Ray-Bans. They had sold out in less than twenty-four hours around Christmas, so when I’d given them to him for his birthday this past spring, he’d been legitimately surprised and thrilled.
“Is it true? Are you trying to hustle me?” Dermot chuckled, offering me an arched brow.
“Never.” I offered a cheeky smile, my gaze moving past both of them to where Kingston stood talking to his father and mine. You would never guess what had happened the night before by the way they were acting, but I knew King for sure hadn’t forgotten about it. In fact, I had a feeling that this wasn’t over by a long shot.
Mr. Ross laughed at something King said, and I watched the two of them curiously, realizing just how similar they looked, but with about a twenty-something age gap. I would give Mr. Ross this—the man had aged well. I could literally see what Kingston would look like at that age, and I couldn’t lie, it was attractive. If we were even friends then…
Shaking myself from thoughts of the future, I moved my gaze to Lincoln and Sterling, who stood with Mr. Gates and Mr. Carter, seemingly having a somewhat serious conversation.
“Last one!” Kingston called out, walking around the cart and sliding next to me. I patted the bench and Dermot slid on, the twins jumping on the back as Yates stood with a foot on the cart while gripping the roof. There were probably way too many people on this thing, but who the heck was going to tell us no?
“I’m a bit sleepy,” I admitted, stretching my arms above my head as Dermot cleared his throat, sounding like he was covering a groan. I arched a brow, but he was already getting out as Kingston came to a stop, chuckling softly. Why was me being sleepy funny?
King pressed a gentle kiss to my jaw instead of my cheek or temple as he smoothed a thumb over it, a surprising gesture that had me looking over at him. Any previous amusement was gone as his eyes traced the very light bruising there before he exhaled sharply and then hopped out, seemingly back to his upbeat, smiling self.
Confusing man.
“How are you holding up, honey?” My mom’s voice came behind me as she got out of her cart and came to stand next to me.
“Good.” I raised up my plastic champagne glass as she tapped hers with mine in a ‘cheers’ motion that had me smiling. I could tell she was a bit tipsy, and I was glad to see the group of them having so much fun. I was tempted to grab my camera from underneath the bench, but I hadn’t been lying—I was exhausted.
“You know, the ladies and I were talking, and I think we’re going to take that vacation we keep talking about. The Gateses just picked up a property in Naples.”
“The couples trip?” I asked curiously, my attention immediately focused sharper on her words. I loved my parents, but the concept of them all gone… together? Leaving me with just the guys? I would never say no to that.
“Yep.” Her lips pressed into an excited smile before squeezing
my hand. “We are thinking sometime this week. I wanted to make sure you’re okay with being home by yourself, after everything that happened… I know the boys are going to be home, but I still worry.”
“Totally fine,” I promised. “I will probably just spend the time relaxing and getting ready for the new semester.”
My mom kissed the top of my head and walked back towards the cart, leaving me smiling a bit in excitement. What? I’m just saying, whenever my parents were out of town, the guys were literally over the entire time… sometimes they even slept over. I mean, it just sounded like an opportune time for really good things… or bad choices. Not that anyone was willing to make bad choices with me. Ever.
Not that I even knew if they were into me like that… well, I think they were attracted to me, but this entire friend zone thing was confusing. I think I may have friend-zoned myself? Maybe? Crap.
“Why are you so excited about being home by yourself, Dahlia?” Dermot’s voice had me letting out a small squeak. It was right against my ear, and I snapped my head around to find that he’d sat back down in the golf cart at some point, right next to me. I blushed as I tried to meet his gaze, wondering if it was that obvious where my thoughts had gone.
“Maybe I want to hold a party,” I said as I turned to the side, his large arm stretched across the back of the seat as he searched my expression. My guys were large, muscular and tall, but Dermot was truly massive, and I absolutely loved being in the shadow of his large frame. I felt safe and comfortable there.
Which was probably why I should stay away from him.
“No, I don’t think it’s that, lass,” he mused and looked back towards the course momentarily.
I hesitated, biting my lip and wanting his attention back on me. “Alright, well, why do you think I’m so happy about it?”
Good, Dahlia, redirect back to the possible awkwardness. I’m positive that won’t backfire.
Dermot’s gaze melted into a deep forest green as he looked back down at me. “I don’t think you want me to answer that question, Dahlia.”
