The Perfect Stroke (24 page)

“You’re right, sweetheart, I don’t. But I’m asking you not to write me off. I fucked up. I keep fucking up, but I need you to give me another chance.”

“Gray…”

“Please, CC. I won’t make you regret it.”

I stay there on my knees hoping she softens. If she doesn’t, I can see myself following her back and telling the tours to fuck off. That’s how far gone I truly am—and I don’t even care. In fact, I’m embracing it. CC is it for me. I just have to get her to believe in that.

He has no idea how bad he hurt me. He doesn’t truly know the history between me and the Rivertons, so on one hand, I can’t truly be upset with him. In his mind, he thinks it’s a simple case of spoiled rich kid versus blue collar bitch. On the other hand, he purposely set tonight up and, after two disaster dinners where the Rivertons were involved, he should have been completely up front. I can’t help feeling betrayed.

“Stay with me, Cooper,” he urges again.

I need to make a choice. Am I dreaming to think that Gray and I could work out? To look at us and the lives we’ve led, you would think we’re completely different. But spending time with him, especially when it’s just the two of us, it doesn’t feel like we’re that different. When I look at his crazy family, I kind of feel like I fit in. They like me. Even Maggie has taken to calling me here and there to talk. I like her. She’s crazy and sweet—a lot like her mom, though maybe dialed down a notch on the crazy.

“I’m not a drama person, Gray. I had enough of that when my mom was around and then when she left. Banger did more than just take me in; he gave me peace and a home.”

“I promise, CC. I’ll tell you everything from now on. No more secrets.” His words make my stomach tighten in nervousness. Some secrets should never come out. It’s the moment of truth. Do I give him the ugly truth? Or do I hold back? Sometimes, it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.

“I’m not asking you to tell me everything about your past, Gray. I’m sure we both have things we want to forget. Don’t make it sound like that. I’m just asking that before you let me walk into a situation like that, you give me some damn warning,” I huff. I’m feeling really uncomfortable. I just want this conversation done. There’s a big part of me that wants to go back to Kentucky, back to the safety and the life I’ve built there. I’m not ready to let go of Gray, though. He’s important. I… care about him.

Gray leans in and kisses my stomach.

“Does this mean you’re going to South Carolina with me?”

“No,” I sigh, my fingers curling in his hair.

“Cooper, damn it. You can’t let what we have, all of it, just go without even giving me a chance,” he growls, getting up and turning away from me, frustration thick in his voice.

“I need to get back to Kentucky, Gray. I have a life there… a
business
there. I was planning on going back soon, anyway. Tonight just sped the decision up.”

“I need you with me,” he says, turning around to look at me. I immediately want to give in, but life taught me a long time ago that it’s better to live cautiously.

“I’m not breaking up with you, Gray. I’m going back home to check on my business and house. Heck, I need to make sure that Mer hasn’t killed Cat.”

“That mongrel is too mean to die.”

“Lay off Cat,” I tell him with a slight smile.

“You’ll come back?” he says, and fear grabs ahold of me, beating in my chest. He wants me back and that feels amazing, but what happens if I let him completely in and I lose him?

“Not for South Carolina, but if you keep winning, maybe I’ll come admire your trophy.”

“You’re not fooling me. You’re totally talking about my dick.”

“Or at least your boner,” I agree, breathing a little easier.

“If you don’t come back, Cooper, I’m coming to get you. You need to understand that. I’m not letting you go. I’m keeping you.”

His words break through the fear in my chest—at least a little of it.

“Keeping me? Careful, you sound a little caveman there.” He walks over and picks me up. I squeal, trying to brace myself on his shoulders. “What are you doing? Put me down before you hurt yourself, you big dummy!”

Gray just laughs at me and then tosses me on the bed. I land horizontally on it beside my packed bag he must have tossed there earlier. Heck, I hadn’t even realized it wasn’t on my shoulder anymore. He pushes it to the floor and grins down at me, taking his shirt off over his head and throwing it on the ground.

“Me Tarzan. Me fuck Jane senseless. Jane be too tired to get on plane,” he grunts, kicking off his shoes.

“That’s your plan?” I ask him, laughing.

“It good plan. Jane shut up now and Tarzan take her for a ride on his grapevine.”

“You are seriously,
seriously
deranged,” I laugh, but I’m sitting up and taking off the clothes I threw on when I got back to the hotel. Gray works faster than me and by the time he has his own clothes off, he reaches down and helps me kick out of my jeans and underwear. He wraps his arms around my hips and pulls me down on the bed. Without warning, he buries his face between my legs. I cry out just as his tongue begins working its magic. When I feel it stroke against my clit, I forget about everything else and just let myself get lost in the sensations that only Gray can create.

“That’s it, baby. Lay back and ride my fucking face,” he groans, and this is one time I lay back and give Gray control without worry.

I do exactly what he tells me to. I ride his face.
Tarzan good.

“That was outstanding, Gray. You’re really racking up the wins.”

“Thanks,” I tell Riverton, wishing he’d leave. Something about the man rubs me wrong.

“The way you’ve been tearing it up, you’ll need that week off you wanted before the next Florida match. Your official invite to the king of them all came today, by the way. Just four weeks away,” he says, like he had much to do with it. I’ve busted my ass and racked up win after win and climbed so far in the standings that the invite is an afterthought. The only thing he’s involved in is making the courses a little smoother and nicer. I finish this match here and then I get a week off. I return to Florida for one more match and the competition there will be the best of the best. I’ll need to be on my A game to make it out with my top fifteen rank intact. I’m currently twelve in the standings, which is a fucking huge accomplishment. But I want that trophy and that green jacket. Then, I’ll feel like I’ve made it to the top. It’s so close I can almost taste it, so I’m chomping at the bit to get rid of the Florida matches so I can look towards Georgia. “What do you say we have dinner and celebrate?” Riverton adds, and that’s the last thing I want to do. I am supposed to be on the course early in the morning and get this damn tournament done, then I am hopping a plane to Kentucky and getting back to my woman.

“I got an early call in the morning,” I tell him. “I probably should get back to the hotel and pack. I’m leaving right after the tournament.”

“Nonsense. A quick dinner will still get you back in plenty of time. Actually, you know what you’d enjoy? The boys and I have a poker game coming up at the local club. That’s just the thing to help you unwind before tomorrow. What do you say about joining in? Brayden was called out of town and it left an empty chair.”

“I don’t know…”

“It’s good to rub elbows with the tour members, son,” he warns, instantly annoying me. Still, if I go home, all I’ll do is jerk off to the memory of CC and God knows I’ve been doing that enough since she’s been gone. I haven’t had her in two fucking weeks. I’ve never missed a woman before CC. I absolutely ache for her. Memories of her laugh and smile haunt me. Thoughts of being inside of her keeps me from sleeping. Hell, I think part of the reason I’ve been doing so good on the course is that I’ve been working on pure frustration.

I’ve been talking to CC every night and the only thing that manages to make me feel even a little bit better is the fact that she seems to be missing me, too. So much so, she’s talking about coming to Georgia to the big tournament to, in her words,
mop the floor with those other ball whackers.

I love that woman. Just thinking about our conversations makes me smile. Now, if I just knew the right way to tell her I love her and need her in my life. When I told her I was keeping her, she didn’t react exactly how I wanted her to. I figure if I even try to bring up the word “love”, she’ll run hard and fast.

It’s crazy, actually. Before CC, women were lining up for me. If they thought they could hook me anywhere close to the way CC has me right now, they would have been jumping for joy. CC would be running for the hills. I don’t doubt that at all.

“I can stay for a couple hands. Just a couple, though. I have a phone conference with CC later tonight.”

“A man in your place who’s on the verge of hitting his hard earned dreams? You shouldn’t be tying yourself down to a woman who won’t be able to further your career or appreciate your achievements.”

“CC is all I need,” I correct him, and turn the subject back to safer ground. I’m not discussing CC with Riverton. I hope I’m not making a mistake.

As the night goes on, that’s one line that keeps repeating—
I hope I’m not making a mistake
—and when I leave late that night and Cammie shows up to pick her father up and comes running up to hug me, it just repeats louder. 

The only saving grace is that I took Riverton’s money in cards, but as I endure Cammie’s hug goodbye, I don’t think even that makes it worth it.

“I can’t believe this is what we’ve been reduced to,” Jackson growls, but he plops down on the half-broken sofa in the break room, pops open a beer, and stares at the TV screen, despite his complaining.

“No one is twisting your arm to make you watch golf.” I shrug, taking a bite out of the pizza. The gooey cheese and garlic spiced crust burst on my mouth and I can’t stop from moaning. I’m starved. We’ve worked straight through all day so we could close early for one reason and one reason only: to watch Gray on television. This is his second-to-last match before the big one, the one all the money is riding on. He doesn’t need to win to have a good standing, but he wants to, and I can understand it. He wants to beat everyone that crosses his path. When they say he’s the best in the sport, he wants there to be no question.

“Hey, if watching this shit makes you quit moping around here with that hound dog look on your face, I’m willing. You’re starting to scare off some of the regulars,” Jackson mumbles.

I push a bag of chips and a can of bean dip into his hand. I’m not the dishes-and-fancy-crab-dip kind of girl. Besides, it’s a fucking garage. Then, I plop down beside him with a can of my own French onion dip.

“Have they shown Gray yet?” I ask.

“Nah. For some weird reason, there seems to be other players out there. Strange, right?”

“Sarcasm can be an ugly thing, Jackson.”

“So can anxious, love-sick girls.”

I ignore the flutter in my chest as he mentions love and, instead, choose to stick my tongue out. Jackson just ignores me and takes a drink of his beer. My attention returns to the television. I’ve never been one to watch golf. It all seemed rather boring and all too quiet. Sports are supposed to be full of screaming fans, marching bands, fly balls, touchdowns, or even a dunk. Somehow, hitting a little white ball into a hole seemed stupid, or like something I do on vacation from time to time, but the hole is usually the mouth of a clown, or a windmill—anything to make it interesting, because otherwise I’d be bored as hell and, hence, not watching. But here, the attraction is not a clown, an elephant, windmill, or anything else. It’s all Gray. I think my breath lodges in my chest when the camera zooms in on him. He looks so good, though different. He’s wearing relaxed slacks, not his usual jeans. His t-shirt has been replaced with a polo shirt. He’s got a hat covering his beautiful hair. It’s not that he looks bad, but he doesn’t look like my Gray. Even when I was on the road with him, he didn’t seem this different. I shrug it off. It’s just been awhile since I’ve seen him. That’s all it is.