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)
Wells sighed.
“Have you turned on the Golf Channel lately? Hell, even ESPN is putting coverage on you, man. The big turnaround story. You’re hitting the ball like Wells of yore—and you’ve got a beautiful caddie, to boot? The media is lapping it up like hungry little kittens.”
“They . . .” His pulse spiked like he’d just fibbed on a lie detector test and his arm wrapped around Josephine’s waist of its own volition, pulling her back against his chest. “What are they saying about Josephine?”
“Nothing bad, obviously. There’s nothing bad to say!”
Josephine turned in his arms and tipped her head toward the bedroom. “Going to get ready,” she whispered. “Finish your call.”
He kissed her forehead, nodded.
Like a husband sending his wife off to work.
After the morning they’d shared, it just felt oddly . . . natural.
He waited until Josephine was out of earshot and he’d shut the bathroom door to continue the conversation. Because he knew Nate well and he’d recognized the man’s tone of voice. “What are they really saying about her?”
“Ah. Well, you know, times being what they are, writers and commentators can’t technically call her hot, but there’s a lot of winking and nudging going on. ‘If she was my caddie, I’d be practicing a lot, too.’ Ha ha ha. Stuff like that. On the innocent end of the spectrum, they’re calling her your good luck charm.”
“Oh.” Humiliating that he should get choked up over that. “Hmm.”
A few moments passed in silence.
“Is there? Something going on there?” Nate asked.
“That’s nobody’s business but ours,” Wells growled. “Got that?”
“Loud and clear, champ.”
“I don’t like them talking about her. She’s . . .” Mine. He paced the bathroom. “She’s all heart. She’s authentic and perceptive and loyal. There is no way they could do her justice with a sound bite.”
Nate didn’t respond right away. Then he said, “Sorry, there’s nothing I can do about them talking about her. Especially if you keep winning.”
“I know, dammit. I just don’t like it.”
“Then I suggest you keep your television turned off.”
Wells walked in a circle rubbing the back of his neck. “All right, let’s get this over with. What are these opportunities?”
“The most magical of all opportunities, Wells.” The manager dropped his voice to a reverent whisper. “Sponsorships. Two of them.”
“Whatever.”
“How does Mercedes sound?”
“Pass. Next.”
Nate fake cried on the other end. “I knew you were going to say that. Figured we’d cross it off the list early.” He paused, for dramatic effect no doubt. “Ever heard of a little brand called Under Armour? And get this, they want to sponsor you and the caddie.”
That brought Wells’s head up. He stopped pacing. “How much?”
“Five figures each. For now. They’re being smart, picking you off cheap before your return to the tour can officially be called a comeback. That being said, they’re only asking for two appearances in their gear, so they can be sure you’re not going to self-destruct and leave them with egg on their face. They will have first right of refusal on your next sponsorship deal. Fine by us, right? It’ll leave us a ton of wiggle room to negotiate terms if you continue on this trajectory. Which you will, my boy. Sound good?”
Five figures. A few years ago, the offer would have been in the tens of millions.
God, he wanted that so bad for Josephine. She’d be able to rebuild the shop, afford better health insurance, take care of her parents. Five figures would mean a lot to her, though, too. A hell of a lot. “Done.”
“I thought you might say that. They’ve already sent over a selection of shirts and hats for both of you to choose from. I’ve taken the liberty of having them arranged in a conference room downstairs.”
“You’re a smug motherfucker, Nate.”
“We’re back, baby!”
Wells hung up.
Left the bathroom—
And stopped short, watching with mounting hunger as Josephine tugged on a sports bra, covering her perfectly perfect tits. A T-shirt next. Too many layers.
“Hey,” she said. “Almost ready.”
He was well past the point of ready. But Christ. Where was this going? His feelings for Josephine were expanding at an alarming rate, but he had no idea what would or could come from the painful attraction. Sex might mess up their entire dynamic and yet, at this point, he’d probably die if he didn’t fuck her brains out.
And soon.
What happened after that? Did she become his girlfriend?
How long could that last with them working together—especially taking into account that he could be a class A dickhead on the course? She could get run over by a golf cart again.
Or worse.
Wells cleared his throat hard. “Look. We’ve got a sponsor. Congratulations, belle, you’re five figures richer. We’re going downstairs to pick out your outfit—and it better not be anything pink.”
She turned so fast, she almost fell down. “I . . . me? I’m . . . five figures? Me?”