Page 49 of Wildly Inappropriate

We sip on whiskeys.All of us.I feel Ken Harper deserves a medal for somehow instilling solid fucking taste in alcohol in his daughters. When I ordered my drink, the women both just requested the same. With Kelsey’s scowly nature, it was almost like I was sitting here with Jameo, but instead of talking golf the entire time, I’m regaled with stories about one of the teens in town who ran face first through a glass door, Jen and Ken’s trip to France last summer, and a possible international security project that Kelsey is working on submitting a proposal for. One I’ve heard quite a bit about from Lila.

Finally, Izzy tips back her glass to get the final drops of her drink, the last of us to finish.

“Putting, then?” she asks, setting the engraved glass down on her coaster.

“Are you sure?” I ask one final time. “I totally understand if you two need to get back to town. It is getting pretty late.”

“Nah. I only had one drink, but I should still burn off a bit more alcohol before we head out. You’re not getting rid of us that easily,” Izzy replies.

I sign the bill for the table, paying for the drinks and the appetizers, and we make our way down the stairs of the restaurant to the putting green. We find our golf bags in the storage area by the clubhouse and grab our putters and a few balls. Izzy is the first on the putting green, so when I join her, she’s already tapped a golf ball toward the hole, missing by a few inches to the right. I’m about to tell her it’s her grip that’s causing her to push the ball, not her read of the green, but I decide to remain silent. No one really wants unsolicited advice, even from a golf professional. She looks up at me when I drop my four balls to the grass a few feet away, and leans her weight on her putter, giving me her full attention.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to look at me while I talk,” I say, uncomfortable with her focus.

“To be clear, Kelsey was the one who said that,andshe said you didn’t have to look at us, not the other way around. But, fine.” She takes a half-hearted attempt at her next ball. “Happy?”

“I suppose I’ll take it if it’s the best I can get.”

“Smart man.”

Unsure where to start, I just keep focusing on my putting. When I’ve hit all four of my balls into or very close to the hole, I walk the five steps to pick them up before starting the routine again.

Izzy lets out an impatient sigh, drawing my attention to the silent conversation she seems to be having with her sister. Kelsey shakes her head before returning to her balls. Apparently, the strategy is to let me decide on a conversation. I think through all the things I’m worried about right now, and even though I can’t rationalize it, I ask what’s most pressing right now.

“So tell me about thisMatthewguy Lila’s out with tonight.”

I swear I can hear Kelsey’s eye roll, but I keep my focus on my putting. It does help.

Izzy replies, “He’s a local guy who moved back after college and now helps run the family farm. He’s a good guy. And going to the high school games is a good way for Lila to get involved in the community.”

“Not your type, though?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why aren’t one of you two dating him if he’s such a catch?” I know I should be less of a dick aboutMatthew, but I can’t seem to be able to.

“What do you—” Izzy starts again but is cut off by her sister.

“Lila isn’t dating Matt, JT.”

“What?” I stand up and look at the sisters, the putter dangling from my hand.

“She told me they were.” Right?

“Did she? Because she told us he was going to introduce her to a couple of his single friends.”

“It seemed like a date to me.”

“Well,Matthew”—Kelsey mocks the snobby way I’ve been saying his name—“is notoriously still hung up on another woman. A fact he told Lila about at the end of their dinner together the other night, so I really doubt either of them would’ve said this was a date.” Shit. I wrack my brain, but I don’t actually remember Lila saying she was going on a date, though she definitely went along with it once I reminded her she couldn’t invite someone over to sleep in our bed.

“Huh.” It’s all I can think of to say. My mind is spinning as it tries to realign everything I’ve been feeling the last few hours to incorporate this new information. I’m not sure what it means, so I drop my focus back to my golf balls.

“Why does it matter if she’s out on a date with him?” Izzy asks gently.

I don’t know. And, damn it, that’s the problem they are supposed to be out here helping me work through. So I give her the easy answer.

“I may have told my mom I was taking her as a date to this golf event I have coming up in a couple of weeks.”

“Why?” Kelsey asks at the same time her sister says, “And?”

---