Page 54 of Perfect Praise

Hottie Icicle

We will never be fake dating. Get the idea out of your pretty little head.

Me

And why does Miss Tight Bun hate me?

Hottie Icicle

Because we used to hook up sometimes, and I didn’t want to sleep with her in Mexico.

“Back to Locke,” a man to my right says when Russell finally finishes his novel. “Same question for you. Russell says the greens are playing slow. How are you feeling about them this week?”

I zone out when Locke says something about how he’s preparing for the course and what his strategy with Conrad will be.

I pretend to take a few pictures until I find the profile of Locke’s sometimes hook-up. She’s incredible close up. Tan skin, sleek dark hair, and model-worthy cheekbones. She definitely knows how to contour, while I slap some bronzer on my cheeks and pray it looks like I know what I’m doing.

Her tight black dress shows just enough cleavage, and she’s crossing her legs back and forth that end in gorgeous four-inch heels. Her shoulders are pulled back, exuding straight confidence I only see on celebrities.

I can’t see a single flaw, even with my lens, and the stark contrast between me and her is unnerving. She’s all black cat vibes—mysterious, slightly villainous, could probably really bitch someone out with zero remorse and could absolutely fuck someone and keep her feelings out of it. She looks like she’d dominatrix the shit out of a man. I wonder if that’s what Locke is secretly into.

Russell gets another question before my phone buzzes again.

Hottie Icicle

Don’t do that.

Me

Do what? I’m not doing anything.

Hottie Icicle

You are. You’re comparing yourself. Stop.

Me

I mean, look at her.

Hottie Icicle

I don’t need to.

Me

Okay, I believe you. Pay attention, silly.

Of course, I don’t believe him, but a reporter just asked Locke what club has been his favorite lately.

“Hold on,” Locke tells him impatiently and drops his head to focus back on his lap.

Hismessage pops up a minute later, but it feels like an eternity in a silent room with a million pairs of eyes watching Locke, who looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Hottie Icicle

You don’t realize how sexy you are. Your little freckles drive me insane. I love that I just discovered that those tiny shorts under your golf dress have pockets. You gave me the best blow job of my life, and I’ve been obsessing over you every minute of the last twenty-four hours. And longer than that. So, no, Maren, Miss Tight Bun does not compare to you, and I won’t stop until you believe it. I’ll have you naked and panting on my bed in a matter of hours, where I’m going to drill it into that gorgeous head of yours.

“Am I interrupting?” the reporter jokes.

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