Page 16 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

For a second, I could picture it: the quaint charm of Ballybeg smothered by five-star luxury. The thought made my chest tighten. Sure, tourism was a moneymaker, but not at this price.

“Now, darlin’, Dee, we talked about how I wasn’t one ofthem,” I flirted.

Dee narrowed her eyes, but then, as if understanding that I was yanking her ex-fiancé’s chain, she cocked an eyebrow. “Well, Jax, love, I know that, buthedoesn’t.”

I turned to look at Cillian and Aoife. “I’m not one ofthem.”

Cillian moved his fiancée out of the way and sat down on a stool next to me. “You’re going to love what’s being planned, especially as a golfer.”

I shrugged. “I doubt it.”

Dee smiled smugly.

Cillian glared at her and then put on a plastic smile when he looked at me. “Why don’t we take you for a drink to?—”

“Hey, O’Farrell, I’m having a drink right here.” I picked up the Irish whiskey and waved it in front of him.

“Jax,” Aoife purred. “You’re a golfer. Surely, you understand the value of a resort like this.”

I stared at her for a beat, long enough for her smile to falter just a little, before I said, “Not really.”

We were putting on a show. Everyone at the pub was not even pretending to be doing anything else but seeing what the hell was going on between Dee’s new boarder and her bastard of an ex.

I didn’t do public brawls or scenes, but fuck this asshole was tempting me.

“Look, ma’am, I’m simply not interested in whatever it is you’re sellin’,” I drawled, adding a little extra Southern to my accent.

“Once you know the details, you certainly will.” Cillian perked up. “We want to sell you a piece of the resort that we’re planning here in Ballybeg. With your endorsement, it’ll be a huge success.”

Dee scoffed, and everyone groaned.

“You’re all clinging to the past.” Aoife was worked up as she gestured to one of the framed black and white photos on the wall, which I’d studied this morning. It was a photograph of Ballybeg’s main street from sixty years ago.

“Exactly,” Cillian agreed, like a man who thought he knew everything. “But progress waits for no one. They’ll come around eventually. People like Dee always do.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dee pounced at Cillian.

“Yeah, what does it mean?” Ronan wanted to know.

“I’m people like Dee,” another said.

Aoife sighed, leaning against the bar counter, and crossed her legs in a way that I assumed she thought was attractive. It was cheap. I’d had better women throw themselves at me.

“You’re all being foolish. You’ll put up a fight, and Dee will try to interfere with the vote, but in the end, what choice do you have? This pub, this village, can’t survive forever, not with the way things are going. You’re all clinging to something that’s already dying.”

“Christ!” I shook my head. “He always this charmin’, Dee?”

“Always,” Dee assured me tightly.

Ronan smirked, folding his arms across his chest. “Charming? That’s one word for it. Gobshite is another.”

I snorted a laugh. “Gobshiteit is.”

Cillian let out a hiss. “Come on, Jax, don’t tell me you’re one of these sentimental types. This village could use a little improvement. And by little, I mean a hell of a lot.”

That was it. My patience snapped like a badly struck nine iron.

“I think Ballybeg’s fine just the way it is,” I said evenly. “You know what it doesn’t need? People like you waltzing in and acting like you know what’s best for a place you don’t even live in.”

---