Page 21 of Fangirl Down

“Oh.” So... hehadbooked her this extravagant suite? Why? “I would have been happy with a normal room.”

“All that moaning you were doing in the bathtub suggests otherwise.”

Indignation snapped in her throat. “If you heard me moaning, why did you walk in here?”

“Did you hear yourself? You sounded like an injured animal. I thought someone was on the verge of death.” His gaze ticked to the tub, back to her. “Is this your first bath?”

“Says the man who almost needed a chainsaw to cut his hair last week.” They smirked at each other. “Women don’t just miraculously appear in your room.”

He propped a forearm on the doorjamb and raised a single eyebrow at her.

“Oh, I see. They do.”

Something about the realization made her skin shrink. But it wasn’t jealousy. No way. Sure, she couldn’t help but have a healthy appreciation for an attractive athlete with a prolific posterior, but that wasn’t why she’d supported him all those years. She’d been his number one fan because, at the height of his success, there was no one more exciting than him on the course. No one more daring and irreverent. He’d never been in it for the accolades—she’d witnessed love for the game in his every move and it had drawn her in.

Women could come stocked in his mini fridge for all she cared.

That spike lodged in her neck was simply a product of having her bath cut short.

“For some absurd reason...” Wells pushed off the door frame, running a hand down the back of his neck. “I feel the need to clarify. Women have appeared in my room twice—and both times, I called security. It wasn’t a welcome surprise, unlike a moaning redhead in my tub—”

“What are we going to do about the mix-up?” she interrupted, alarmingly relieved while still being distinctly embarrassed. “Should I call the front desk?”

Wells regarded her levelly for several moments. “No. You stay here. I’ll go down and get a key to the other room.”

Josephine pondered that. “But if the other room was meant forme, there could be a man waiting in my bathtub.” Batting her eyelashes, she slipped between Wells and the door frame, staunchly ignoring the butterflies that scattered in her stomach when he gave her mouth a prolonged look. “I should probably take it.”

He turned to face Josephine where she now stood in the living space, a muscle popping ominously in his cheek. “You’re here to focus on golf.” He gave her a meaningful look. “So am I.”

All at once, she became very aware that this man was now her boss—and he was right. They were in Texas to play golf. Getting into a bickering match with a golfer who could change her life by winning was not the wisest move, was it? And being that Wells was her boss, she should spend as little time as possible standing in front of him in an extremely brief towel. “I’m focused.”

“Good,” he said, back to having his arms crossed. Aloof.

“Areyou?”

“I’m always focused. It just hasn’t translated into winning lately.”

“What are you focusing on?” she asked, even though she should probably shut up and get dressed.

“Golf,” Wells spat out. “I thought we established that.”

“What part of it? Your swing? The leaderboard? The shot you’re taking? The next hole?”

“We talked about the questions, Josephine,” he snapped.

She held her ground. “You’re going to have to start answering them or I won’t be able to do my job, Wells.”

He adjusted his stance, leaning forward a little, wafting his scent in her direction. He smelled like pine and a hint of something else. Like the interior of a new car. Warm leather? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but she shouldn’t be envisioning things. Things like dragging her nose along the curve of his strong neck to further study the origin of those leather and pine notes. “Myoldcaddie didn’t ask questions,” Wells pointed out.

Josephine squared her shoulders and took a step in his direction. “I wouldn’t have taken advice from your old caddie two inches from the hole. He was a banana brain.”

“A...” Was he holding back a laugh? “You’re going to have to learn some meaner insults if we’re going to be spending time together.”

“Fine. He was human-shaped shit stuffed into some khakis.”

“Better.”

“Thank you. Answer the question. Whichpartof golf are you focusing on?”

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