Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
“All I hear is, you have a life and I don’t,” I chuckled.
“We’ll see what you think about the life I lead in a moment,” he responded with a smirk. “If you don’t mind, hand over your phone and other devices to Mikey here. I intend to speak very frankly with you out on the course, and I’d like to play it safe.”
I stood straighter automatically and processed the words coming out of the mouth of this…six-foot-four…ish…mobster. We were the same height, shared the same frame too. Was he armed? He wouldn’t possibly murder me on a golf course after signing us both in. Right? Unless he hadn’t actually done that?
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I had to trust Alfie. He was setting this up.
I dug out my phone, and the leather jacket—Mikey—came over and accepted it.
“No smartwatch or anything?” Shan asked to make sure.
“God, no. Foul things.”
Shan grinned. “This bodes well. Okay, let’s get going. I need to stop by the restaurant to fill up my mug.” He gestured to his travel mug in the bag’s cupholder.
I followed him into the clubhouse, where we came across a painted driftwood sign that pointed toward the restaurant, the showers and locker rooms, and the course. Nothing else was necessary. No damn spa or cigar lounge.
Low traffic today, though it was a Thursday morning when most people had returned to work after their vacations. Even so, my own club attracted enough retirees to make it difficult to get a tee time early in the day. Except for noon, when the sun stood at its highest.
We reached the restaurant’s coffee and water station, and Shan filled his mug with black coffee.
“Would you tee off first? It’s possible Alfie gushed about your drive too, and I need to see a pro in action.”
I let out a laugh. A pro? So far from it. “I appreciate the flattery.” I wasn’t in the mood for coffee, so I just grabbed three bottles of water. I couldn’t remember if they had a water station out on the course. “Alfie can’t have gushed about anything else. He’s only seen me on the driving range and putting green. The one time I tried to get him interested in golf, he threw my driver into a lake.”
“Oof—and you forgave him?” Shan laughed gruffly. “Alfie and Kellan share some traits, that’s for sure. Zero patience, quick to get defensive.”
Yes, that was my Alfie.
My Alfie. Fuck. Oh, fuck me.
Once we were done, I followed him out to the other side of the house, where a paved path took us down to the course. From here, the view was magnificent. The land was surrounded by forest and fields, no freeway as far as the eye could see, just greenery, ponds, and the bane of my existence: bunkers.
We walked past a screen that showed today’s local forecast, and eighty-three wasn’t too bad after a liquid hot July of over ninety degrees.
The tall pines would provide shade in some places too.
“Have you been a member here for long?” I asked, putting on my cap.
“No, just a couple of years,” he replied. “My previous club lost the plot when they put cheaper sand in the bunkers, removed the water-refilling stations on the course, and banned alcohol outside the restaurant.”
What the fuck? I would’ve left too. Christ.
“To be clear, I’m all for a drinking limit,” he added. “But a nice Friday afternoon requires a beer or two.”
“I hear you.” I felt the exact same way, especially in the late afternoons when summer was slowly morphing into fall. “My club could use a limit. Slow play is almost always caused by a group of senior citizens hitting the flask too much.”
Shan chuckled as he donned his own cap. He was a Callaway fellow. “One of the reasons I like this place. They’ve designed it to prevent all kinds of slow play. Water bottles available on five, a pop-up café with quick service on nine, you don’t have to rake the bunkers yourself, and the assistance of a caddy once a month—should you need one—is included in the fee.”
I let out a low whistle. “Hopefully, they’ll accept my request to join soon.”
“We can get that sorted, West.” He grinned faintly and came to a stop as we reached the first hole. We only had one twosome in front of us, and they were teeing off right now. “Do you know any members here yet?”
I inclined my head. “I have two acquaintances who recommended me.”
“That’s good, but I daresay my name weighs heavier.”
I had no doubt. I smiled wryly and opened the side pocket where I kept my tees. “I’m not sure I want to be in your debt, O’Shea.”
“And we have lift-off,” he laughed. “Oh, it would be more for my sake. I’m surrounded by children most days. I turned fifty-one the other day, and you know what I got? My grandkids filled my fridge with drawings, and my son gave me a headache. Thank goodness for Kellan and Emilia—but even they are young.”