Page 16 of Forever Wild

“God, you’re insufferable. It’s like you don’t remember losing our bet three minutes ago or that you now owe me anything.”

The way he emphasizes the word anything makes my insides tingle. This has been fun. Jameson is surprisingly easy to be around. I know this isn’t a date. Neither of us want it to be a date. But, if it were a date, it would be the best date I’ve ever been on. Not that I’ll be admitting that to him…or to myself.

I mentally slap myself, reminding my hormones this is not a date one last time before saying, “Luckily, I also have a credit card that is very good at buying whiskey, and, regardless of what you might think, I am an absolute delight to be around, so it’s not as big of a loss as you might think.”

He looks over at me, the sun and his baseball hat casting his eyes into a dark shadow. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Chapter eight

Jameson

Playing nine with Bryn has been so much more fun than I expected. I can’t remember the last time I truly enjoyed being out and playing. As we walk up the hill that leads from hole nine’s green to the clubhouse, I’m racking my brain for ways to ask her to casually hang out again. I don’t want more. I can’t have more, but I would like to hang out again.

“Bryn!”

We both turn, noticing the whole birthday party crew making their way to the restaurant. They are a rainbow of golf skorts and collared tops, clearly abiding by the dress code today—no hint of the chaos and rule-breaking that leaked into my room through the windows last night.

“Oh, hi, Jameson,” says Bryn’s brunette sister. “Fancy seeing you here.”

Bryn’s eyebrow rises as she says, “I told you this morning we were going to get in a quick nine.”

“Huh. Must’ve slipped my mind.” She’s giving off real cat-who-ate-the-canary vibes. “Anyway. Jameson, you should join us for brunch!”

There is a chorus of “Yes!” and “Definitely!” and somehow, despite being raised with a sister who was constantly trying to convince me to do things with her, I am no match for their sheer energy and unwillingness to take no for an answer.

I agree to tag along, mostly because I’m hungry and want to eat—it certainly has nothing to do with not being ready to say goodbye to Bryn.

We sit down, and the table orders a round of mimosas. “Oh, Jameson will take one too,” Bryn says to the waitress.

“No, that’s—” I begin.

“I’m buying, remember?”

I nod to the waitress but turn back to Bryn, saying, “You promised me whiskey. What kind of bald-faced liar are you?”

“The kind that doesn’t believe in drinking whiskey before noon. Come on, mimosas are tasty. Way better with brunch.”

We all order, the women appearing to be carb loading after their drinking last night. I glance at Bryn as she inhales the second half of her breakfast burrito. I’m eating my usual four-egg omelet, but watching Bryn devour her choice is making me hungry, and not just for food.

She splashes more Cholula onto her burrito and brings it to her lips. I follow the movement with my eyes, taking her in. She is undoubtedly beautiful. Between her smiling eyes and tanned legs, she’s got the girl-next-door look down pat. If only she had a pair of glasses on, she’d be the main character of any ’90s rom-com. And, unlike any other girl I’ve met since I joined the tour, she hasn’t once tried to kiss my ass or get me to pay for something. Except quarters.

Suddenly, she halts her progress and looks at me, crinkling her forehead.

“What?” she asks around a mouthful of sausage and egg. When I don’t reply, she turns her head fully and stares at me. “You’re staring at me.”

“You’re staring at me.”

Another eye roll. “That’s because I asked you a question. One that you still haven’t answered, in fact.”

I break my gaze away from her and glance around the table, pretending to be interested in the conversations going on around us. But my mind is focused solely on Bryn—on the way her eyes sparkle in the sunlight filtering in through the large windows, on the way her lips curve into a smile as she takes another bite.

I can’t help but feel a pull toward her, a magnetic attraction that’s been building ever since we met. Fuck. She’s the first girl I’ve ever actually enjoyed golfing with. Well, other than Lila, but she doesn’t count.

Unfortunately, I know I shouldn’t act on it. My agent and publicist would kill me if they knew I am sitting at this table full of tipsy women right now. I’m supposed to be getting my head on straight. I’m supposed to avoid dating around. Plus, Bryn said she’s leaving soon. I feel another pang in my chest, a twin to the one I felt when she mentioned leaving earlier.

Maybe I should see if she wants to hang out again before she goes. Golf again. Go back to my room and—Nope. Not even thinking about that. That is not something we can do. I’m smart enough to know that once I take that step with Bryn, I’ll never be able to go back.

Taking a deep breath, I turn my attention back to Bryn. “I’m sorry, what was the question?”

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