Page 34 of Mixed Connection
Before I open the door I hear a bit of commotion from the bedroom and then hear Jameson curse. Wanting to make sure he is okay, but not wanting to intrude on possible bad news, I slowly open the bathroom door. He hasn’t noticed me just yet as he checks his phone.
His posture is still relaxed as he sits at the edge of the bed, the duvet is wrapped around his waist leaving his chest on full display. He is all hard muscle and my eyes track down to his trim waist and the V cutting so deeply, it may as well be an arrow pointing to exactly where I want to be.
I blow out a quick breath as I shudder, then walk out and ask him, “Are you good in here? I thought I was coming out to more snuggles.” I place my hands on my hips, playfully upset as I quirk my eyebrows at him.
“I would do just about anything to stay in this bed with you, as promised, but Anders just called me. He’s running late to the house.” He unties his locs as he stands, his hair drops to themiddle of his back and I hold in my sigh. “Which means I need to get to the house before the designer gets there.”
He looks up at me then and his smile builds slowly. I’m standing in the doorway of the bathroom, still in my tiny shorts and oversized t-shirt from last night. His eyes start from my bare feet, moving slowly up my body before he’s on his feet and moving, eating up the small distance between the two of us. Coming to stand in front of me he grips the top of the door frame and leans into me, and I tip my head back to look up at him. With lazy fingers, he twirls a loose curl around one of his fingers. “I promise you, Babygirl, that if it wasn’t for an emergency, I would be cussing him out. But he’s at the vet with my niece.”
“Your niece—wait. You said the vet?” The confusion at those two words war within me a bit, my eyebrows furrow and my confusion is clear to him as well.
His laugh brings a smile to my face before he answers me, “Yeah, um, my dog-niece. I keep telling him to stop treating her like a child, but she’s his baby.” He pulls out his phone from his pocket and shows me a picture of the mammoth man himself, holding a long-haired dachshund. She’s spattered with blonde, brown, and caramel hair, sporting light-blue eyes. A smile stretches my face so much that my cheeks hurt. His niece.
“She is absolutely the cutest thing.” And she is but I can’t hold back the giggle at the clear size difference. “I would have expected something…bigger.”
His head falls back with laughter. “Yeah, when he told me what he wanted I laughed too, but he’s a teddy bear really…Well, for her he is anyway. I thought he would cry when I surprised him with her almost three years ago.”
“You bought her?” It’s endearing, hearing him talk about his best friend and buying him such a thoughtful gift.
“Sure did,” He puffs his chest out a bit. “I’m her emergency contact at doggy daycare.”
“Stop it right now!” It’s my turn to throw my head back in laughter, holding my stomach. I can’t help the howl that escapes me.
When I catch my breath, I see him watching me with a dimpled smile on his face before he pulls me to him. “You are so beautiful.”
I rest my palm on his chest, running my fingers over his shoulder and into his hair, rubbing his scalp with my nails. He relaxes his body, dropping his head further into my waiting hands as he leans down to kiss me gently, pulling me flush against him, one hand resting on the small of my back. This kiss is slow and deep, he takes his time exploring my mouth with his tongue. He pulls away slowly, but not before giving me one more soft kiss on the lips and takes a small step back, before letting me go.
He walks into the bathroom and splashes some water on his face, using a spare towel to dry off. Tugging on his t-shirt, he pulls his locs to lay on his back and fuck, if that doesn’t send heat right to my core. Walking over, he leans in and gives me a small kiss. “I promise I’ll call you later, to check in.” The only thing I can do is nod my head like a damn fool before walking him to the door.
After locking up when Jameson leaves, I jump into the shower, making quick work of the hot water that soothes the lovely soreness of the night before. Not only did he make me feel incredible, he stayed to watch Fire Zone with me. Picking up my shampoo, I lather my scalp before rinsing and repeating the process with my conditioner. My thoughts about our time together warm my skin. I turn off the shower and wrap a towel around me and brush through my curls quickly.
I put on a fitted white blouse and wrap the skirt on next, tying a bow at my hip. Swiping on some red lipstick, I rub my lipstogether and smooth down my hair that is now braided at the nape of my neck.
Lifting my eyes to the clock, I release a breath of relief—I am not running late, for once. I still have plenty of time to get to the golf course to meet Lo. Today we are officially buying our cart for the charity tournament.
I take a peek at the vendor pin board Paloma made and see the cart she added. I’ve got a good feeling about today, I smile to myself. “Let’s buy a golf cart.”
Paloma and I have been at the course for a while now, double-checking we have all the documentation we need to ensure our part as a vendor runs smoothly. She was on a roll, every now and then I would see her space out a bit, almost as if she had seen a ghost, but she shrugged it off quickly.
“This place is huge!” I exclaim, taking in the ranch-style clubhouse. My eyes focus on the large screens near the bar area first. Anytime there’s a bar, I immediately size it up. They all mostly look the same, but occasionally one will surprise me with something new. The walls are painted in a cream color while warm wooden beams stretch along the ceiling. Twin off-white pillars line the walkway of the ritzy golf club, making it feel more extravagant than needed.
“How did you line this up so perfectly?” I ask Lo, fully believing that if she put her mind to it, she could move mountains. “The clubhouse is hosting a gold fest this weekend, so they have all their best carts out to choose from. The salesman assured me they would have multiple selections so we can get the best bang for our buck,” she answers.
I am still learning all the ins and outs of golf life—let’s say I much prefer my books and cocktails to being on a hot and humid golf course. It is beautiful though, I’ll give them that. The course is miles of hills and valleys covered in lush green grass that looks soft enough to roll or tan in for hours.
“Come this way,” Lo ushers me around the clubhouse as though this is a second home to her, guiding us near tables where patrons are enjoying lunch.
Walking down the sage green carpet, we finally make it to the other side of the country club where a set of see-through double doors frame a picturesque view. Even inside I find myself squinting from the sun reflecting off a man-made body of water, small waves ripple along the surface from the breeze, like something out of a magazine. I understand exactly why the club has the doors situated in this spot.
A heated gust of wind presses against the door as Paloma makes an attempt to open it; I give it a firm press of my palm to stop it from pushing her over. I take in a deep inhale, enjoying the smell of fresh-cut grass, still dewy from what I assume would be the sprinkler system. A
A hum of voices from the golf cart sales staff and potential customers have me turning my attention to men in polos and joggers. My eyes widen and I snap my neck back in horror at the amount of colors and patterns covering the salesmen’s bodies.This cannot be real,I think to myself as I shift my gaze to Lo, sending her a message with my eyes only. One that says,Girl, why the hell are these men dressed like a pack of Skittles… that exploded?
She rolls her eyes at me, sending a message back that says,Don’t start!She nods her head for me to follow. I sidle up next to her and give her a small nudge.
“Did I miss the memo,” I whisper, “Why does that man have on neon green flamingo-printed pants with an equally disturbing shirt?”
I watch her cheek hollow out, denting in from her biting back a laugh. She has to know I am not mature enough for this, a giggle slips out before she pinches me. “This is what golf clothes look like. I mean, some options are more neutral but—” She chuckles, noticing my wide eyes along with my eyebrows that are sure to be melding with my hairline. “Some golfers are more flamboyant in their appearance. It’s a good time all in all. Come on!” She squeals with excitement, tugging my arm like she’s back in her element. She drags me straight to the greens, where several golf carts are parked for purchase. Peacocks—I mean, the salesmen—walk buyers around, some with serious expressions, while others joke and laugh with those they’re hoping to make a commission on.
