Page 61 of Unexpected Shot
“Did you say sex?”
Did I? “No. I said sex. Six. I said six sex.”
Beau leans in closer, his hand grabbing my thigh, pulling me in soclose I’m basically on his lap. “We can make six sex happen, Wife. All you have to do is say the words.”
“What words are those?”
“Dare me.”
“There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I jump at the sound of the voice. Which thankfully pulls me from a new part of the dream I didn’t remember. Sex with Beau? Absolutely the fuck not.
Wait…is that why it burned a little when I peed this morning?
“Shelby? Hey! What, no hello for me?”
I’m ten-thousand different ways of confused, and still a little drunk, because all I can do is snap at the last person I want to see right now.
And why does he have a black eye?
“Chad? Where the fuck have you been, and was it a boxing ring?”
I haven’t seen Chad since last week when we were in Nashville. He didn’t show up to either practice day. No call. No text. No email. No carrier pigeon. Nothing. And yet, he’s staring at me like I’m the crazy one for asking where he’s been and if that place was Fight Club.
“I’ve been here all week.”
When I was desperate for a swing coach, and when I thought Chad was going to be the best one for me, I ignored a lot of things I don’t like about the man. The biggest one being that he perfected the term gaslighting. Does it better than anyone I know. And it’s exactly what he’s doing now.
Except, I know his tricks. I’ve known them for a hell of a long time. And I’m tired of disregarding them.
“You haven’t been here,” I say firmly, ignoring the rumbling in my stomach. Because this is a conversation that’s long overdue. “I’ve had two days of practice where I had to find a newcaddy—the job you were hired to do—because you were M.I.A. No one has seen you on this golf course. Riddle me that,Chadwick.”
“Come on, Belle…” Chad’s slimy smile—and the use of Beau’s name for me—sends an unwanted chill down my spine that has nothing to do with the bottle of whiskey I drank last night. “It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”
I’ve been with a lot of regrettable men in my lifetime, but without a doubt, dating Chad Ashcroft is my biggest regret.
Because….fucking ew.
His smile is too white. I know he spends a lot of time on a golf course, but this has to be a spray tan. And of course, he’s a douchebag. I hate that he was my first boyfriend. I hate that he was my first kiss. But that’s what you do when you’re young, dumb, and have a crush on your best friend's brother who only sees you as his golfing buddy.
Except…he didn’t last night.
No. One crisis at a time.
“Don’t call me that,” I say, now just getting pissed. “Actually, you don’t have to say anything. I don’t need you this weekend. You can go back to whatever strip club with a good buffet you slunk out of this morning. And get your eye checked out. I’ll be just fine.”
His eyes narrow for a second, but then he remembers he’s in public with people he knows he needs to impress. I mean, how else is he going to convince them he should be their swing coach with his fucked up grip?
“Nonsense. I’m here to work.” I watch in mild shock as he walks closer to me, leaning down and picking up my bag. “Come on. Let’s go check in.”
“Absolutely the fuck not,” I yell a little too loudly as I step in front of him. “You’re not caddying for me.”
"On the contrary," he says in a low voice, the semi-charming gaslighter tone. “I found your backup caddy in the clubhouse. Thanked him for covering for me, but that since I’m here now,his services are no longer needed. Handed him a hundred bucks and sent him on his way.”
I’ve been pissed off about a lot of things over the last twenty-four hours. Seeing Michael. My body still having a damn reaction when Beau is near me. How I wanted to slap Courtney for no other reason besides her existing. A dream so real it’s fucking my world up.
But the anger I’m feeling right now can’t be measured. Because not only am I for sure never using Chad’s weird-ass grip method again, but I’m firing his ass immediately.
