What Lovers Do

“Nice, baby,” Taryn verbally applauds my dad’s long drive after she shanks it five yards.

“After you.” Shep nods for me to go.

As my ball sails through the air, headed straight for the green, my dad and Shep whistle together.

I bite back my grin and saunter toward the cart.

“You and your smooth stroke,” Shep says, returning his club to his bag.

“It’s not everyone’s taste,” I murmur as I take a seat on the driver’s side.

Shep eyes me, a half grin stuck to his handsome face as he scoots in next to me. Yes, Shep, I’m driving. I’m winning. I’m going to dominate your ass for the next four hours.

“Are we still talking about golf?” He adjusts his black baseball cap. “Or are you talking about other kinds of strokes?”

I stomp on the accelerator, forcing him to grip the dash. “Golf, of course.”

“Are you sure?”

“Stop beating a dead horse.” I slam on the brakes, pluck my iron from my bag and wait for Taryn to hit two more times so I can head to my ball. Shep’s long fingers cuff my arm, tugging me toward him.

I give his cocky grin one second of my attention before averting my gaze to the fairway over his shoulder.

“Are you … upset over what I said at the store?”

“No.”

“Bullshit.”

My head shakes a half dozen times.

“You’ve alluded to it before. You’re upset. But why? Why would you care what I think when you don’t want to be more than friends?”

I don’t have to look directly at him to see all the creased lines of satisfaction on his face.

I yank my arm from his hold and march my cleated shoes toward my ball … and I. SHANK!

“Whoa … what happened?” my dad asks on a chuckle.

“It’s my fault,” Shep chimes from behind me. “I got in her head a while back. I said no one person can be great at everything. I mentioned something that she’s a little subpar at. I’m not sure what that was.” He scratches his chin and narrows his eyes. “I’ll think of it. Anyway, it’s really bothered her since that day. My bad.”

My bad?

Is he joking? He damn sure remembers what he said.

Ignoring him, I march to my shanked ball and hit it again.

SHANK!

“Peanut …” Here comes the coddling. “I’ve never seen you so off your game. What did Shep say you were subpar at doing? I’m sure he’s wrong. You’re always successful when you try your best.”

Again, I take ten full strides to my ball, line up, breathe … breathe some more, and manage to pull off a decent stroke.

“Attagirl,” Shep says, following me back to the cart.

I don’t talk to him for the rest of the morning. By the eighteenth hole, I’m ready to bury him six feet under next to Jimmy.

Men are evil creatures. And while I’m not saying the world would be a better place without them, I’m not saying it wouldn’t be a better place without them.

“Shep, I think you’re my good luck charm.” Dad squeezes Shep’s shoulder as we take a seat in the clubhouse for lunch. “I haven’t beat Sophie so badly in years.”

“Me neither.” Shep barks a laugh, feeding my anger toward all men in this world.

“I’m going to the restroom,” I mumble, rolling my eyes and eliciting a giggle from Taryn.

As I exit the restroom, Shep’s unfairly sexy grin greets me from his spot, leaned against the opposing wall, hands in his front pockets. “Rough morning?”

For two full steps, I take the high road. Then I turn and retreat toward him.

“You’re kinda in my space.” He cocks his head while tipping his chin toward me.

“It’s not your space. It’s my space. We’re in California with my dad, playing golf on my turf. My trip. My idea. It’s all mine. Got it?”

“Someone’s a little ripe.”

My nose scrunches as I take a step away from him, slowly lowering my chin while lifting my shoulder to take a whiff of myself. I put on deodorant.

Shep clamps his lips between his teeth and clears his throat. “I’m not talking about your body odor.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“You’re ripe for angry sex.”

I scoff. “With whom? You? Never. Not in a million years.”

Shep’s eyebrows slide up his forehead. “A million years is a long time.”

“Let’s eat.” I deflate and sulk to the table with him right behind me.

“The cheesesteak is perfection, Shep,” my dad says as soon as we’re seated.

“Sounds perfect.”

This seems to please my dad as he sets his menu aside and grins at the man next to me.

Ripe for sex … what does that even mean? Who says that? And why can’t I forget he said it?

“Dalton and I are thinking of taking Shep up on his offer, Sophie. If we come a few days early, can we stay with you?” Taryn asks.

My head snaps up from my menu. “What?”