Page 69 of All Bets Are Off

Irritation bubbled up, but I managed to keep it from exploding like lava all over my father. “Olivia wants more for herself than just being my wife, Dad,” I argued. “She has goals.”

“Really?” Dad didn’t look convinced. “She hasn’t done much of anything but raise a ruckus with the strippers since you two got married. I think she’s already achieved her goal.”

I recognized what he was getting at—he thought every woman was a gold digger—but I managed to keep my thoughts on the subject to myself. “I’ll talk to her,” I said, resigned.

“Good.” Dad’s smile was bland. “If that’s all…” He gestured toward the computer.

“Right.” I pushed myself to my feet. Suddenly, my legs felt heavy. The joy I’d felt at the idea of sneaking back to the penthouse for a second lunch—the hobbits had it going on there as far as I was concerned—was long gone. “I guess I’ll see you at the golf tournament.”

Dad nodded but didn’t say anything. Per usual, he’d already dismissed me.

17

SEVENTEEN

“I’m ready.”

I emerged from my bedroom in the outfit I’d purchased from the downstairs shop. The clerk had assured me that it was what everybody was wearing on the stylish golf courses these days. Sure, it was just a lesson, but I didn’t want to embarrass Zach, who seemed out of sorts ever since his meeting with his father the previous day.

Sure, there had been sex and flirting. The sparkle in his eye was gone, though.

Zach looked up from his phone. He was waiting for me by the door. His eyebrows migrated toward his hairline as he regarded me, his expression unreadable.

It was enough to slow me. “Did I get it wrong?” I looked down at the black skirt and white shoes—and man, were those hard to walk in—and baby blue Stone Casino shirt. “Is this not right?” I was suddenly terrified I’d gotten it wrong.

A low chuckle emerged from Zach’s mouth as he shook his head. “That’s exactly right,” he assured me, his eyes roaming my legs, a hungry look taking over. “How would you feel about foregoing the golf lesson and playing a different game with me?”

I raised a finger and wagged it. “Um … no. You said this was important.”

“And yet other things strike me as more important right now,” he noted. “Fancy that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Come on.” My shoes made weird noises on the floor, and they weren’t all that easy to walk in. “Who wears these by choice?” I glared down at the shoes.

He snickered and headed toward me, his phone going into his back pocket. “You don’t put them on until you’re out at the course.” His hand landed on my waist. “Do you have a regular pair of sneakers?”

I was suspicious. “Yeah, but the girl at the shop downstairs said that I had to wear actual golf shoes.”

“Wait … you just bought this? From here?”

I nodded.

“You didn’t have to buy new clothes.”

“I’m pretty sure that I can’t show up to whatever ritzy golf course you have in mind in my track shorts and the only tank top I own with a built-in bra.”

“Definitely not,” he agreed. “I vote for no bra.”

I pinned him with a serious look. “You need to focus.”

“That sounds like zero fun.” To my surprise, he gave me a quick kiss. We were careful not to let affection overtake our sensibilities when it came to what we were doing. The lines were already blurred—although neither of us wanted to admit it—and the only time we touched one another was when we were playing a particular game. Still, he hadn’t even thought about it before touching me. It had been instinctive.

“You said that I had to at least look the part,” I reminded him. “Don’t you think that means being able to grip a club?” Something horrible occurred to me. “What if I miss the ball?”

He laughed. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t teach you to be good in a single lesson.”

“Oh, and here I thought you liked it when I was bad,” I teased.

His eyes went dark. “Get in that bedroom right now.”

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