Page 32 of Grand Escape

“He’s pretty open about his sexuality, so I’m not worried when it comes to Pete. But thanks for the concern,” Tony said to me, then spoke into the phone. “Hey, Pete. What’s shaking?”

He waited for a reply like it was normal to call people before six o’clock in the morning.

“Got a guest over here who’s looking to play a round. You have a group looking for a fourth?”

I started to shake my head. The last thing I wanted was to play with a group. I was looking for time alone with my thoughts. I should have asked about a lesson or some time at the driving range, now that I thought about it.

Tony nodded as he listened, then said, “Great, I’ll drive him over myself ... One sec, and I’ll find out.” Looking at me, he asked, “You have clubs?”

I shook my head.

Cal had told me to bring them, but I’d refused, insisting this trip wasn’t about me having fun. But as it turned out, I was starting to have fun for the first time in what felt like forever.

Tony spoke into the phone again. “He needs a set ... Sure ... We’ll be on our way in a few.” After he hung up, he turned to me. “You need to fix your makeup or anything?”

He raised a brow at me, not the least bit embarrassed to be harassing a guest. This dude had balls of steel.

“Give it a break, Tony. You’re acting like I’m stealing your best girl.”

I ran my hand through my hair, pushing it off my forehead. It didn’t escape me that I was doing exactly that, stealing his best girl, but only for a week.

Tony grunted. “Let’s go. They’ll set you up with everything you need at the club.”

He walked toward the Jeep, not waiting for me to make it to the passenger door before climbing in himself. The engine rumbled to life as I slammed my door closed.

“She’s everyone’s favorite around here, and if you hurt her, you’ll find yourself with a lot of enemies,” he said matter-of-factly.

“I believe it. Look, I’m not going to hurt anyone. We’re having some vacation fun, and there’s no pressure from me.”

As I said it, I wasn’t sure I could have fun beyond this week. With Becca’s memory haunting me, that’s all this could be. One week.

Frowning, Tony said, “That’s the thing. Ry tries to act all cool and easy, but she’s been burned.”

“I hear you,” I said to shut him up.

This guy really needed to find someone else to bark at. I wasn’t his enemy. In fact, my own worst enemy was myself.

Tony glanced at me. “Tell Pete to charge whatever you have back to the hotel. It’s not widely publicized, but we allow it. And don’t go making enemies with your golfing buddies. He’s doing you a favor.”

When he brought the Jeep to a stop in front of the clubhouse, Tony didn’t wish me a good time or tell me to have fun. He just glared at me as if to say, Are you getting out or what? I guessed this was the extent of his hospitality.

Pete was waiting for me at the entrance, decked out in golfing whites and a pair of saddle golf shoes. He whisked me through the clubhouse, selling me a pair of shoes and renting me clubs. I had no idea when I would use the shoes back home. It had been a while since I’d played golf, which was why I wasn’t sure I wanted to right now.

With Pete rushing me to meet “my guys,” as he kept referring to them, I became increasingly skeptical.

Danny, Andrew, and Grant were from Southern California. A guy they called “Chewy” was supposed to be their fourth, but he was nursing a hangover at their villa. Apparently, they’d had a private chef come in and make a big five-course dinner last night, along with a bourbon tasting in honor of Chewy’s second marriage.

Except, Chewy announced it was already over, and he was reuniting with his college flame.

The rest of the night, they said, he’d proceeded to drink himself into a stupor as they made fun of him. They all regretted this, but it had to be said. Chewy had been in love with Sarah since college, and they all knew it, so this was the “cherry on top,” according to them. Pretty wild for close to twenty-five years later.

“Damn, you’re good.” Danny interrupted the story on the second hole to compliment my birdie. “You sure you haven’t played in a while?”

“I’m sure.” I wanted to say maybe they were all too carried away with their tale of the night before. But the more they droned on during holes three and four and then five, I listened to their chatter and felt less sorry for myself.

“You mean Sarah waited all these years for him?” I couldn’t help but get into the story and actually want to know. I placed these guys around forty-six or forty-seven, several years older than me.

“Nah,” Andrew said. “She married some idiot for his money. His family was big in the wholesale seafood business. Guy was a dweeb who always smelled like fish, but was rolling in dough.”

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