Hooked Page 2

  He pushes his way into the room and looks at Mark, who barely had time to cover himself with a sheet. “Hey, man.”

  “What the hell is this? Are you gonna bring him a cup of coffee now?” I ask. “Get out of here.” He gives me a shitty little grin and leaves, and I slam the door behind him.

  I turn to Mark, and he sits there with an expectant look on his face. “What?” I ask.

  “Coffee would be great, Eagle.”

  I grab a pillow within reach and throw it at him before stomping out of the room. His laughter follows me down the stairs. Coffee my ass. He can get his own damn coffee. If anyone gets coffee in bed, it’s gonna be me, dammit.

  MARK

  My Eagle has landed, I think as I watch Riley’s sweet ass leave the room. Taller than most women I’ve dated, she’s still leaner than the others with muscle from her athleticism, which makes her sexy as fuck. Add to that, dark hair that cascades down her back like a waterfall. Jerking off to thoughts of her haven’t compared to the real thing. And she’s starred in many of my dreams over the years. I never thought in a million years to be here. We’d kissed once so long ago, but the memory never faded into obscurity.

  As small as the world is, it never occurred to me, with her and her family living in California, that she would move back here when she was old enough to do so.

  The spooked look in Riley’s eyes before she left has me getting dressed. Gina’s out in the hallway with Ryder when I pass through the door.

  “So, you finally did it,” Gina, my first ever ex-girlfriend and one of my current best friends, says.

  And I think of how complicated this whole thing is. Gina and I lost our virginities to each other when we were in high school, but broke up soon after. Her best friend, Cassie, is married to my best friend, Fletcher Wilde, a star quarterback in the NFL, who is also Ryder and Riley’s cousin.

  “Don’t go there,” I warn.

  Ryder starts to say something, and I think about punching him. Hell, I owe him one. But Gina stops him and walks over to me. Placing both hands on my shoulders, she says, “Remember, don’t smother her. Give the girl some space. She’s like me.”

  She winks, and I’m annoyed. “We’re not in high school anymore. I can handle myself.”

  Gina’s not offended by my brusqueness, and it shows how well she knows me.

  “Go get her,” Gina whispers.

  My annoyance is wiped away. I smile as I head down the stairs. Riley is in the kitchen slamming cabinets and muttering to herself.

  “Hey,” I say, taking her arm when I reach her. She stops. “Let’s not get weird, okay. We’re two consenting adults. We had some fun. We got it out of our system.”

  But since she’s so far from out of my system, I have to force the lie out.

  “Good.” She breathes out and says, “Good, good,” again on another exhale. “This could never work. We’ll have to practice together. No time to think about sex, with you.” She’s talking more to herself as she searches in vain for a mug she finally finds. Clearly, she’s rattled because of what we did. “And then the week of the event, I need to be focused on my game and the little kids from the Make-A-Wish Foundation we’re doing this for.”

  Feeling the need to calm her, I casually say, “Sounds good.”

  “Whew.” She blows out another breath.

  I can’t help but have my ego bruised. She’s so eager to get rid of me. Maybe Gina is right and they are a lot alike. Gina had broken my heart way back when. I’ll never know if it was love or infatuation because I love her now. I’m just not in love with her. Still, she’d been the girl that got away. And that will always sting. As of right now, I’m not sure I’m ready for any commitments, especially with losing my job and wondering what’s next.

  “So, are you going to give me a shot?”

  Panic fills her eyes, and she quickly asks, “At being my caddie?”

  “What else?”

  “Yeah, I need to see if I can get some tee times so we can get some practice time in.”

  “Sure. I guess I should leave.”

  What I really want is for her to ask me to stay, but she doesn’t. The taste of her is still on my tongue, and I hate that we went at it so fast. I didn’t get enough time with her tight little breasts and her amazing ass.

  “It’s probably a good thing,” she murmurs.

  I don’t beg because with a girl like Riley that wouldn’t work. There’s also no need to comment again about what we did and how good it was for me. There’s so much regret in her ideas, my ego has taken a beating next to her it was good comment.

  Without ceremony, I’m out. The drive back to Asheville is long and brutal. I may not have a job, but I didn’t think driving two hours to Charlotte to meet with her would end so soon. Usually, I date women a while before by mutual agreement we call it quits. Will I ever find the one?

  Sighing, I give my car the verbal command to call Fletcher. I’ve never been one to fuck and tell, but if I don’t call him, he’ll hear it from Gina and call to give me shit anyway.

  “Mark, don’t you sleep in these days?” he answers.

  “Har-fucking-har,” I say. Just because I’m financially sound without my job, doesn’t mean that I enjoy being jobless. “And I hear you might become a Cowgirl.”

  I’m talking about the speculation of his potential trade to Dallas, though I know better. He’s doing his best to get traded to the Carolina's team.

  “Damn, man, that’s harsh. And don’t say that around Cassidy. She’s hoping for a trade to the Panthers so we can spend more time in Waynesville. Besides, I was kidding with you. What’s up?”

  There’s no easy way to say it, so I just do.

  “I fucked Riley.”

  Silence.

  “Look, Gina and Ryder were there. They know. You would have found out.”

  “It’s not like it’s my business,” he says.

  “I would agree, but she’s your cousin, etc., etc.”

  “So—”

  “Nothing, man. It was a one-time deal. She’s like Gina’s clone or something.”

  I hate the bitter pill I have to swallow.

  “Gina did settle down,” he counters.

  “Exactly, and not with me. Not that I wanted to. But the point is, Riley’s like Gina. She’ll never be mine, and I’m moving on.”

  Okay, that last bit might have sounded true to my own ears if I didn’t know how I truly felt.

  “Whatever you say.”

  “Yeah, so now you know,” I say. “And I have to go. I’m driving and shouldn’t be on the phone.”

  It may be a fact, but we know it’s an excuse.

  “Mark?”

  “What?” I want this conversation to end and pretend it didn’t happen.

  “Maybe this time don’t just walk away. If this is what you want, fight for her.”

  His words circle in my head as I drive home. When Gina broke things off, she had a fucking checklist for the reasons why we were better off as friends. She’d made sense. I didn’t much argue as pride held together some of my self-respect. Had I truly not fought for Gina? If I had, would things be different? I shake that thought away because I’m sure it wouldn’t be. She’d been right. We are better off as friends. But what about Riley?

  To put it in perspective, I think about the women I’ve dated. None have ever clicked. Yet, there’s something about Riley. Something that makes me look for her whenever I’m at a Wilde family affair and I know she’s in town.

  At home, I pour myself some orange juice and consider pouring a shot instead. Drinking won’t solve anything. Thank goodness I don’t because a call I’ve been expecting comes through.

  “Mark James?”

  “This is he.”

  “Hi, it’s Ben Rhoades.”

  Ben’s the head of an investment firm in Charleston, South Carolina that’s been courting me for years. Somehow they heard about the dissolution of the firm I was with and contacted me.

  “Mr. Rhoades.”<
br />
  He laughs. “Don’t call me that. It makes me feel like my father. Call me Ben.”

  “Ben, then.”

  There is only a short pause before he gets down to business.

  “Mark, I make myself aware of my competition, and your name has crossed the lips of many in the business. And that’s big, especially since we’re not Wall Street guys.”

  “You were.”

  “Were,” he says.

  “And you came back home.”

  “And you never left.”

  “Touché,” I say.

  “I am impressed by what I hear about you, and I respect your work. Obviously, we would need to work out all the details, but I’m prepared to offer you an opportunity to set up and run a satellite office for us in Charlotte.”

  Rhoades Investment has made a name for themselves. They’re well respected, and it’s an opportunity I have to consider.

  “And if I were interested?” I ask.

  “It would mean you would come down for a formal interview. You would meet with my father and me, along with other key personnel. If everything goes well and you agree to come on board, you would need to spend some time in our office here in Charleston to get to know how our operation runs. Of course, we would put you up here in the city for the duration of your stay. Then you could work remotely from your house while we scout for a location and start the hiring process in Charlotte.”

  Everything sounds good. Being in charge and starting a business as if it were new appeals to me. Still, I can’t just jump at the first opportunity.

  “I’ll need to think about it.”

  “I wouldn’t expect less. How about we schedule time for you to at least come down and talk to us? I would hate for you to make a decision without talking to us first.”

  “Sounds fair.”

  Then I remember Riley and agreeing to be her caddie. “Why don’t you give me some times and I’ll check my schedule?”

  Credit to him for not pointing out the obvious, like shouldn’t all my time be free since I’m not working?

  “Good. I look forward to meeting you, Mark.”

  “You, too, Ben.”

  It’s not long before several proposed days and times appear in my inbox on my phone. As much as I want to ignore Riley until she calls me, I’ll have to get in touch with her before tomorrow. I can’t let too much time pass before I answer Ben, especially if I want to look as though I’m seriously considering his offer.

  RILEY

  Why the hell does he have to be so damn sexy and great in the sack, too? It’s all I can think of and I need to wipe that out of my head so I can think golf. Golf. Did you hear that, Riley? You have an event coming up, and your short game sucks right now. You need to figure out your putting, and fast.

  After setting up a ton of tee times, I text Mark and ask him when he can be here. The smart-ass wants to know if it’s okay if he stays at Ryder’s. Did you hear that? Not at my place, but at Ryder’s. Ugh.

  “Ryder? You around?” I yell.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “Can Mark stay here? He’s going to be my caddie.”

  Now my brother goes and pisses me off. He laughs at my question. Then he asks, “Why you asking me? Seems to me you had that sharing a bed thing all figured out already.”

  “You know what? You’re a douche.”

  “What’d I say now?” Then I hear him ask Gina as I stomp up the stairs to my room, “What’d I do?”

  “Why are men so damn clueless?” I grumble to myself as I text Mark back and add the tee times so he knows when to be back here. We start practice tomorrow, but I’m headed to the course today to hit some balls. My swing needs to be adjusted, so I have a long session with my coach in an hour. It would be nice to have my new caddie here for that, but that would be a bit too much to ask.

  Thirty minutes into our session and Randy, my coach, says, “What the hell is wrong with you? You’re acting like a hair twirler.”

  “A what?”

  “A hair twirler. That’s what I call my daughter when she’s playing soccer and she’s more interested in the boys watching her than she is in the game.”

  I want to deck him with my driver. “I am not.”

  “Then explain why every ball you hit is either a slice or a fade. And beyond that, you average around two hundred and fifty yards on your drives. You’re barely hitting the two hundred mark. Check your tracker if you don’t believe me. But don’t worry. I have it all on the GoPro.” He taps the tiny camera mounted to the golf bag he uses to analyze my swing. I can’t argue with a thing he’s said. My swing is off. Everything’s off, and it’s because of Mark and the romp in the sack we had.

  Randy won’t let it go. “So? Are you seeing that PGA guy again? What’s his name?”

  “No, I’m not seeing him.” And he knows damn well what his name is.

  “Then who is it? Rickie Fowler?”

  “Shut up. Rickie has a girlfriend. Everybody knows that,” I say as I get ready to take another swing.

  When I finish, he says, “A little better. Is it Jordan Speith?”

  “No! He has a serious girlfriend, too. But I will say if his caddie weren’t married, I might be digging on him.” I tee up and swing again.

  “Hmm. You rotated your hand on the club. Here.” He adjusts my grip and says, “This is where you’re supposed to be. Why’d you change?”

  Why did I change? “Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Hair twirling. Is it Rory McIlroy? Last I heard he was a free agent.”

  “I’m not hair twirling,” I insist, but in reality, he’s right. And it’s all Mark and his talented cock’s fault. “I think you’re wrong about Rory. Besides, he lives too far away.”

  “Planes, trains, and automobiles.”

  After about a hundred more balls, Randy announces I’m getting closer to my old self. “That’s more like the Riley I used to see out here. Now, give me a couple hundred balls like that.”

  “Hand me a water, please.”

  I’m well into another bucket when he says, “Whoa, whoa, you’re over rotating your hips.” He gets behind me and demonstrates. I’m off again until he stops me with a, “Watch that back swing. You’re not trying to kill anyone. The ball isn’t back there, Ri. Your power is in the swing through. Stop a minute.”

  I step back and guzzle down a water. “Here.” He hands me a protein bar. While I eat, he talks.

  “Think of this. When you hammer in a nail, you don’t take the hammer back with all your might, do you?”

  “No.”

  “That’s how you need to think of your driver.”

  He’s right.

  “I’m noticing here that you’re acting like you want to kill something with it, namely the ball. That’s why you’ve been so sloppy. Check it out.” He hits replay on the GoPro and shows me my errors on my back swing.

  “Jeez, I look like a madwoman.”

  “Just tame it a little. You’ll have way more control when you convert. But you know that already. A mistake that’s easily corrected.”

  I finish eating my bar, and he says, “Let’s switch to a 5 wood.”

  After another thousand balls, he checks the clock and says it’s time to call it quits. I’ve practiced for seven hours.

  “You playing tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Yes, with my substitute caddie. I need to break him in.” In more ways than one.

  “Good. Let me know how it goes. You need to play thirty-six holes. At a minimum.”

  I promise to play at least that many, and we part ways. Heading to the ladies’ locker room, I lock up my clubs and shoes and then head for home. I walk in and hear voices. Ryder must have company. But I’m surprised to see who’s sitting there.

  “How was your practice?” Mark asks.

  Miss McGrumpy returns, because all the time I spent hitting balls pisses me off.

  “Dandy. I couldn’t hit worth a shit. My coach was all over my ass for it. I can’t even tell you ho
w many balls I hit. Seven hours’ worth, that’s how many.” He doesn’t deserve my snarky attitude at all, but whatever.

  “Damn, that’s a lot of balls.”

  “Tell me. I’m the one with the sore arms,” I blast back.

  Then Ryder says, “Yeah, but you love it.”

  My mouth runs away from me. “Um, unlike the gods of the baseball diamonds, there are no restrictions on how many swings I can take per day. So I don’t love it all the time, brother.”

  “Whoa, excuse me. Someone is certainly in a bad mood today,” Ryder says.

  “You would be, too.”

  “So, can I fix you something to eat? Drink?” Mark asks. I’m sure he’s only trying to defray the tension in the room. And now I feel like a bitch, especially since he drove all the way back here to help me out.

  “A drink would be great, and thanks. Sorry for being so snappy, Ryder.”

  “No worries, sis. I get it. All days can’t be great out there.”

  Falling back on the couch, I put my feet on the coffee table and feel the tension drain. “I’m so glad the heat is gone. If this would’ve been August—ugh. It really would’ve sucked.”

  Gina strolls into the room and asks if we want to go to dinner. Ryder jumps up and announces he’ll treat. I’m exhausted, but I’ll look like super bitch if I don’t go.

  “Let me change out of these clothes.” I head to my room and do a quick wardrobe redo. When I’m up there, I decide a brief shower might wake me up. Thirty minutes later, I’m ready to go.

  They’re all waiting on me when I get downstairs. “Sorry, I needed to shower. So, where are we headed?”

  Gina announces there’s this new place she’s been dying to try—one of those bistro-type places that also offers small plates.

  “Um, Gina, do you know who you’re marrying? He can eat enough for twenty.”

  “I cannot,” Ryder argues.

  My only response is a raised brow. We go to the new place, and after Ryder sees the menu, he decides he needs three entrees.

  “Told ya,” I say. “The man with a bottomless pit for a stomach.”

  Mark chuckles. “Good thing you don’t put on weight, dude.”