Hooked

by A. M. Hargrove

  “What are you saying?”

  “Exactly what you think I’m saying. Me caddying for you was a mistake. It’s taken your head off the game and into the bedroom. And that’s the last place it needs to be. Be honest with me. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  When I hesitate, he jumps right in.

  “See. It’s a hard point to argue with, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t give me time to think things through, so I respond with, “That depends. What exactly did Randy say to you last night? And let me just say if you don’t tell me, I’ll ask him myself.”

  His smile promptly curves into a frown, and now he decides to look at the view of the sun coming up. A long and painful silence eats up the space between us, and even though I want to speak, it would be wrong of me to do so.

  He eventually leans forward, elbows on his thighs, and rests his forehead in his hands. “It was pretty much a mess. He said I should put you first before my career. Though he felt if I did I would eventually resent you. But if I didn’t and left you to travel the world and golf without me, you would resent me. But either way, one of us will end up resenting the other. And the more I think about it, I wonder if he doesn’t make a good argument.”

  “You honestly believe that? That we can’t figure this out between us?” He needs to give me an answer before I invest more of my time, and possibly my heart in him.

  I watch as he leans back in his chair and bends his neck from side to side. Shaking his head, he says, “I don’t know, to tell you the truth. I’m not sure how I feel. I’d like to think we can make this work. But we couldn’t even make simple dinner plans without a fight. Then again, how will we ever know for sure?”

  My stomach takes a triple twisting dive to my feet, but instead of gracefully entering the water, like you see in the Olympics, it pancakes on the bricked terrace, sending impulses of shattering pain straight to my heart. Something in the recesses of my mind told me this would happen, but I chose to ignore it, trusting in the belief that for once, a relationship could work. I was dead wrong.

  “We can’t ever know that.” My tone is flat. Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite and my desire to watch the beauty of the sun rise.

  “Riley, what’s wrong?”

  What’s wrong? Everything, now, it would seem. Yesterday, I had so many hopes, and now, not so much.

  Standing, I say, “You need to figure out what you can or can’t handle.” My voice now carries a bitter edge to it. And yeah, I’m a bit pissed. I tried to push him away at first, but he’s the one who insisted.

  “Wait. You’re not being fair. It’s not all about what I can or can’t handle. This is about the both of us.”

  “No. That’s where you’re wrong. You let one man put ideas into your head, and now look where it’s gotten us. And if that’s what’s going to happen every time someone mentions something like that, then maybe you’re right.”

  Not wanting more of this conversation, I walk away before I say something totally mean and stupid. The last thing I want is to sound like that moron, Justin.

  By the time I step into the elevator, the dark-haired devil is on my heels behind me. The doors aren’t even closed before he starts in.

  “Don’t ever run away like that again.”

  “Or what?” I challenge.

  “Or … I don’t know. Just don’t do it. You’re the one who told me not to leave. You know damn well that’s not the right thing to do. And you also know we do have a huge problem looming before us.”

  “I am aware,” I snap. “But I, unlike you, don’t let others dictate what I want or don’t want.”

  The doors whoosh open, and I step around him and out. Again, he’s on my heels.

  “Don’t you want me to caddie for you?”

  Stopping to a dead halt and turning so he has to grab on to me to keep from knocking me over, I stare at him eye to eye. “Of course I want you to caddie for me. That is, unless you don’t want to do it, in which case I’ll get Randy to carry my bag.”

  “I’m a man of my word. I came here to do a job, and I’ll do it, dammit.”

  “Okay then,” I growl, “but you’d better act right.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I have to play well and be sweet to those kids. If you’re acting like an ass, then it’ll put me in a funk and I won’t be able to do either.”

  He snorts. “Seems to me you’re the one acting like an ass.”

  My jaws clamp together and I swallow my snarky retort, grinding my molars instead. Who is this guy kidding? Me? The ass? I jam the key card into the slot and open the door. He knows I’m beyond pissed now by the way I’m banging doors and throwing things around.

  “Riley, calm down. You need to get ahold of yourself.”

  The only things I need to get ahold of are Randy’s and Mark’s necks so I can squeeze the hell out of them and then talk some sense into the two of those rock heads, when they are almost unconscious and can’t yap back. Men. UGH.

  When I’m ready to go to the golf course, even though it’s early, I look at Mark with a quirked brow.

  “What?” he asks.

  “You ready?”

  “Now? It’s barely daylight.”

  At least his rock brain noticed that.

  “I realize that, but I’m going to the range to burn off this, er, energy I have.” Translation: anger.

  “Oh.” He scrutinizes me. “You’re really pissed off at me, aren’t you?”

  “You bet your sweet ass cheeks I am, Einstein.”

  “Don’t you think—”

  “No. If we discuss this any further, I won’t be held liable for my actions.”

  He has the gall to laugh. And I’m talking a hearty howl. Oooh. My ass is burning now. I need to rein it in. How in the world am I going to play a decent round?

  I stomp toward the door, and he says, “Calm it down a little, Eagle. It’s going to be fine.”

  If he knew my blood pressure was about the same temperature as boiling water, he wouldn’t be saying that.

  “You know what? Why don’t you just meet me there about thirty minutes before my tee time? Make it around noon. That’ll give Eagle time enough to calm down. Oh, and just for the record, you and your doubts? Well, I believe in us and I’m willing to walk through fire to prove it.” And I practically run out of the room, not looking back.

  By the time I get to the elevator, I’m panting. What the hell is wrong with me? Before I know it, my feet have burned a path to the transportation desk.

  “But miss, the golf course isn’t even open yet,” the poor little guy tells me.

  “I know, but I want to go to the driving range.”

  “But, that’s not open either.”

  “It’s okay. I’m with the event. Someone there will let me on.”

  “Miss, I’m not supposed to do this.”

  “Please,” I beg, using my best flirtatious voice. I’m much older than he is, but I know I’ve made an impression when he nods.

  “I hope I don’t lose my job.”

  “Listen, if anyone says anything, tell them Riley Wilde begged you to do it, and if they don’t believe you, tell them to leave me a message in my room. I’ll vouch for you.”

  That appeases him and off we go. The course is deserted when we arrive.

  “Miss Wilde, are you sure you want me to leave you off here?”

  “Yeah,” I say, waving my hand. “I’m fine.”

  When he’s gone, I plop on the bench that conveniently awaits me. The course will open in an hour, and until then I’m content to stay here and sort things out in my head. I’m sitting, enjoying the morning calm when my blissful peace is disturbed as that dumbass, Justin, appears.

  “Riley, what are you doing here?”

  “I might ask you the same.”

  He chuckles and says, “I bribed one of the employees to bring me. I’m meeting my caddie here for an early breakfast, and then I’m going to hit balls before my tee time.
I like the shotgun start at noon. What hole are you starting on?”

  The man gets dumber and dumber every year. What did I ever see in him?

  “Justin, no one knows which hole. They’re making those determinations this morning.”

  His face contorts from confusion to clarity and I bite back a laugh.

  “Aw, that’s right. I always forget at these things. Maybe we’ll start on the same hole.”

  If I were an eye roller, mine would roll right out of my head on his last statement.

  “Justin, let’s think this through. How many holes on the course are there?”

  “Eighteen,” he answers eagerly.

  “Good. And how many golfers are here playing?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Boy, you must’ve studied up last night.”

  The dude actually preens a bit. What a doofus. “So?”

  “So?”

  Oh my God. Save me from his lack of brain activity. Surely his mother dropped him on his head when he was in infant. And sad as this may seem, it would be better if she had. At least there would be an explanation for his sheer idiocy. How could I ever have dated him? Was I that desperate? It must’ve been at a really low point in my life.

  “So, Justin, what that means, is each golfer will be playing their own hole. We will all have some of the kids with us. It was intended to be that way so we could spend quality time with the kids.”

  “Well, what about spending quality time with the golfers.”

  “I give up. You’ll have to ask someone else about that.” I’m done giving important details to the guy who went to the corn festival in May when it doesn’t even exist!

  “Yeah, okay.”

  And he’s fine with that. Checking my watch, I notice the course is about to open and decide it’s time for me to head inside. But Justin’s next words halt me.

  “So enough about golf. Let’s talk about us,” he says. I have to remember this dude is as dense as a forest.

  “Justin, there is no us. There will never be an us.”

  “Oh, but there is. You saw the media and how they were all into America’s favorite golf couple.”

  He flashes his pearly whites as if he’s acting in a tooth whitening commercial.

  “Good for the media. Not so good for us. Let me repeat myself. There is no us, Justin. Get used to it.”

  I stand up and get ready to walk away, but he grabs my wrist. “I want us to give it another try.”

  “No! No trying, no nothing.”

  But he gives my arm a tug and it catches me off guard, so I take a bit of a tumble and end up catching myself with my hands on his lap. His lips are on mine before I can even think, and damn, if Randy doesn’t show up at exactly that moment.

  “Well, I didn’t imagine catching you two lovebirds here,” he says.

  Pushing myself away from Justin, I say loudly, “Randy, it’s not what you think. And, Justin, don’t you ever put your hands on me again.”

  But when I turn to speak to Randy, he’s disappeared. What the hell?

  MARK

  Rubbing my temples, I sit on the sofa wondering what to do next. I can run after her, but she’s made it clear she needs to work off some steam. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I answer it immediately.

  “Riley?”

  “Er, no. It’s Gina. So don’t say anything stupid.”

  I blow out all the air I’ve been holding. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “What’s going on with you? You sound like you just found out Santa isn’t real.”

  Part of me wants to confess everything to her, but her fiancé is Riley’s twin brother.

  “Nothing. It’s early for you, isn’t it?” I ask, switching subjects.

  “Well, Ryder didn’t get to see his sister play much this season, and he wanted to surprise her.”

  “So, you guys are here?”

  “Yep. We’re downstairs about to have breakfast, and we wanted to invite you guys down.”

  Great. They are going to ask questions I don’t want to answer. “Riley’s already gone.” My answer is simple, and I can only hope Gina leaves it at that. But of course she doesn’t.

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Gina, don’t start.”

  “Fine Mr. Grumpy Pants. Come meet us. I have something I need to discuss with you.”

  I check my watch. There are still a few hours before the event begins. “Okay.”

  When I get downstairs, Gina hops out of her seat to greet me. Over her shoulder, Ryder glowers at me. I don’t know if it’s Gina hugging me or if she’s told him that Riley and I are on the outs. No telling, it may be both.

  “I missed you,” Gina says into my ear.

  “I missed you, too. How’s New York?”

  We let each other go, and she looks back at Ryder. “It’s good.” She indicates with her hand for me to use the chair opposite her. “Sit, sit.”

  As I do, I hold out my hand to Ryder. “Hey, man.”

  He grumbles something and begrudgingly shakes my hand using a vise grip. I give as good as I got. The Wilde twins must not be morning people.

  “I ordered for you,” Gina says. “Ryder wants to get out there and see Riley before everything gets started.”

  “It’s fine. You know what I like.”

  Ryder’s eyes narrow. “Do you have a problem with me?” I ask.

  Gina sighs. Ryder answers, “Should I? What’s going on between you and my sister?”

  “Should I ask you the same?” I toss back.

  “You don’t have a sister,” he counters.

  “Gina’s been like a sister to me forever.”

  “Is that before or after the two of you hooked up?”

  “Ryder,” Gina growls.

  “Look, you’ve got to let that go. Fletcher, Cassie, Gina, and I grew up together. We went to the same schools. Gina was like one of the guys,” I muse, memories flooding back. “Until she wasn’t. We were teenagers. What happened, happened over a decade ago and more out of curiosity.”

  “And it was gross,” Gina interjects.

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say to her.

  “You know I didn’t mean it that way. As I’ve explained to Ryder, it was like doing my brother and that’s just eww.”

  “Exactly,” I say, although I’d held a torch for her for a short time after. The point is, I’d been over her for a very, very long time. “And I stress again, it was once and done. If we can forget it ever happened,” I point between Gina and me, “why can’t you?”

  “Well, if Gina didn’t choose you, maybe you’re not right for my sister.”

  Ryder’s on a roll, and I’m his target. The guy’s not spiteful either. Has Riley already talked to him?

  I toss my hands up. “You know what? I don’t need this bullshit today.”

  “Ryder, that was fucked up,” Gina says.

  I’m halfway out of my seat, but Gina snags my hand.

  “Ryder,” Gina warns.

  “I don’t need you to run interference for me, GG,” I say, adding that last bit to piss Ryder off. And it works.

  “GG?” Ryder growls.

  Gina shrugs. “He’s always called me that.”

  It isn’t exactly true, but she has my back and I love her more for it.

  “Please stay,” Gina asks.

  I turn to Ryder. “I get Gina’s your girl. Hell, I championed for you. I thought you would be good for her. But I don’t ask her about what goes on between the two of you. I don’t expect you to ask me about your sister. She can handle herself… and me.”

  Ryder turns his attention to the view out the window for a minute. “You’re right. Riley’s always led the charge on her battles. I’m sorry. I’ve been under a lot of pressure, and I haven’t had a lot of sleep. I shouldn’t take it out on you. Yes, I’m a jealous bastard. But I trust Gina.”

  “And?” Gina prompts.

  “And I trust you,” he says to me.

  He holds out his hand. This ti
me the shake is friendlier.

  “So, what happened?” Ryder asks again. I arch a brow. “I’m asking this time because maybe I can offer you some advice.”

  Tension eases as our food arrives. I give them a basic overview of my week with Randy. Then, I tell them the story of what happened with Randy and Justin.”

  “That’s messed up,” Gina says.

  “Randy can be an overprotective fool. He’s really a good guy when it comes down to it,” Ryder adds.

  “I get that, but he’s crossed a line,” I say.

  “I’ll say one thing. I don’t think my sister wants some guy whose only life goal is to be her cheerleader. She’d walk all over that guy.”

  “But?” I ask.

  “But Randy is partially right. It gets lonely when you travel. City after city in different hotel rooms…” He puts an arm behind Gina’s chair. “To have someone be there after a tough day means a lot.”

  Gina smiles at Ryder and places her hand over his on her shoulder.

  I envy their bond.

  “I can see that,” I say.

  “Whatever job you take, will you be able to go to some of her tournaments especially if you can tell she needs you?” Ryder asks.

  There is a lot to consider, and I do that over breakfast.

  We are waiting on island transportation when I ask Gina, “You said there was something you needed to talk to me about.”

  “Oh,” she says. Her face lights up, and her movements become animated. “Ryder and I are thinking about doing something a little different for our wedding.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Cassie is my maid of honor, and Fletcher is Ryder’s best man,” she begins.

  “Yeah,” I say because that isn’t unexpected.

  “Well, Ryder wants Riley to stand for him. And I want you to stand for me on my side.”

  I grin. “Do I have to wear a dress?”

  She laughs. “No. A tux with the right color tie to match Cassie’s dress works.”

  “Does Riley know? Will she be in a tux, too?”

  Gina shakes her head. “Not yet. But I see her in a black dress to match the guys, and a sash of some sort to match our color theme. We want to break tradition. Ryder’s mom will probably die.” She snorts, and Ryder grins along with her. So no trouble there. “She’ll probably ask why you can’t be on Ryder’s side and Riley on mine. But fuck tradition. This is our wedding.”