Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111959 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 560(@200wpm)___ 448(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Dear God, he needed a distraction. Anything to keep him from begging this woman to stay with him on the tour, like a selfish prick, instead of realizing her own dreams. Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to drop the bill in the center of the table and sail away.
Wells stood, ripping his wallet out of his back pocket, credit cards spilling out. “Let’s go see that golf swing, belle. The fact that I haven’t yet is bullshit.”
“Ooh!” Evelyn patted her hair. “Now that’s some language.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Wells muttered.
Josephine hooted a laugh.
“No, no! I’m paying!” Jim half shouted.
“Yes. We insist!” Evelyn chimed in.
Wells and Jim lunged at the same time, proceeding to rip the check in half.
Evelyn buried her face in her napkin. “Lord have mercy on us all!”
“You can pay next time,” Jim blustered.
“I can pay every time!”
“Oh, like hell you will!”
Josephine burst into a laughing fit, falling back in her chair. With sparkling eyes, she looked over at him. “Are you sure you want a next time?”
“Yes, belle,” Wells growled, finally giving in to the unrelenting impulse to grab the leg of her chair and pull Josephine as close as possible, planting a firm kiss in the center of her forehead. “I want all of your next times.”
And he was dangerously close to asking her to remain his caddie indefinitely.
As in, forever. Through the Masters and beyond.
Apparently he was more selfish than he realized.
“Don’t think about the timeline,” she whispered.
“Impossible. But I’m going to try like hell for you.” Don’t kiss her mouth in front of her parents. You’ll never be able to stop. “Happy birthday.”
“Thank you.” She brought her lips to his ears and whispered, “Happy birthdays, Wells.”
And there was nothing else to grab onto. Nothing to anchor his feet or keep him from slipping down the embankment into love. Total and complete worship of Josephine Doyle. He landed hard and didn’t even bother trying to get up.
Considering she’d just delivered her two weeks’ notice, it was a dangerous place to be.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Josephine stood at the edge of the Golden Tee, watching Wells saunter through the space, hands in his pockets. He was not a hands-in-the-pockets type of guy. They were usually planted on his hips or his arms were crossed over his chest. She knew this man. Knew he was torn between being happy for her and apprehensive about the expiration date on their arrangement. And yeah, she was nervous, too.
Because when the shop was ready and the time came to return to real life, back in Palm Beach, Josephine wasn’t sure she’d be able to leave him.
For the first time, she pondered the wild possibility of giving up the shop. Staying on as Wells’s caddie until . . . when? Until he retired? He was only twenty-nine. Retirement might not come for well over a decade. And what if they broke up . . . personally and professionally . . . and Josephine no longer had the shop to return to? That was a lot of what-ifs.
And could she even physically leave the Golden Tee behind? Despite the flood, her family’s history was still very much alive within these walls. Walking away would be like removing vital organs from inside her body and pretending everything was normal for the rest of her life. She would miss the place, of course, but mainly, she would miss the meaning of it.
Hard work, ingenuity, pride, tradition. Family.
At the same time, Josephine was growing increasingly worried that leaving Wells could prove just as difficult. Add two or three more weeks to the equation and . . . how hard would it be then?
Wells pulled Josephine from her dark thoughts by asking, “Where is the consultation lounge going to go?”
She pointed toward the back of the shop. “There. I’m thinking of two leather wingbacks, a big architect board with maps and yardage. I want it to feel like the captain’s quarters of a ship. But . . . technologically modern.”
He nodded for a long time, as though envisioning what she’d described. “It’s going to be incredible, Josephine.”
“Thanks.”
“Where is the giant cardboard cutout of Wells Whitaker going to go?”
“In the bathroom,” she said, without missing a beat.
He barked a laugh, then fell silent again.
Time to face the elephant in the room. Head-on. That’s how they operated, wasn’t it? “Why don’t you just tell me what you’re thinking, Wells?”
“Okay.” He speared five fingers through his hair, before stuffing them back in his pocket. “I’m thinking . . . we just decided to be together this morning and already the situation is on the verge of changing.” His eyes closed briefly. “I don’t want anything to fuck with this, Josephine.”
“Then we won’t let anything fuck with it,” she said, trying to keep her voice even.
Wells’s chest rose and fell. “Yeah, except . . . you’ve met me, right? The self-destructive asshole who holds the record for breaking the most golf clubs on the tour? I’ve won more bar fights than tournaments.” He shook his head. “I’m worried I’ll backslide without you and . . . I’ll stop being this guy who is worthy of you, you know? I’m on thin goddamn ice, as it is. I’ve finished in the money once in the last couple of years, belle. That’s nothing.”