Page 39 of Tee’d Up For Trouble

“Stop,” I snapped, cutting him off again. “Just stop. I don’t need you—or anyone else—coming in here and playing hero.”

I saw frustration flash in his eyes. “Dee, it’s not about playing hero. It’s about helping someone I care about.”

“You don’t even know me, so why would you care about me?” I threw it at him, rudely, unfairly, cruelly. I was running, scared, and hurt, and I did what people like me did: I kicked at the innocent.

“Darlin’ Dee—” he began, but I stood up quickly. The bench creaked loudly, silencing him.

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, wild and raw and full of pain. “I don’t need you swooping down to take care of me.”

“Why the hell not?” he drawled. He did this, I realized. When my temper flared, he went ice-cold calm, no, not ice-cold emotionless, but amused, like he was mocking me. Thearsehole!

“Why the…I don’t even know you. You’re a stranger.”

“Aw, come on, Dee, I saw your bits today…in the water,” he joked.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe it. Here I was, mad as a bag of cats, and he was behaving like he was at a tea party inGone With theFeckin’Wind.

He rose and put his hands on my shoulder, bent his head to kiss my angry mouth. It was a brush, light, soft, sweet. I softened. He was unraveling me.

“I don’t want your money,” I said petulantly.

He cuddled me to him and kissed my hair. “Maybe you don’t want it but you do need money, mine or yours or someone else’s. It’s just money, Dee. It’s not a big deal.”

“Only people who have a lot of it saygobshitelike that,” she grumbled.

He laughed. “Gobshite. I think I’m gonna add it to my swearin’ repertoire. I have to say my swear game has been on the up and up since I came to Ballybeg.”

“I doubt it very much,” I scoffed.

“Feckin’ gobshitedoesn’t know his arse from his elbow and wouldn’t find it with a map and a flashlight.”

I nuzzled his chest, letting him ease me. “Not bad, Yank. You’re gettin’ the hang of it.”

He pulled back and grinned widely. “Oh, I’m just warmin’ up. How about:feckin’ useless gobshite, thicker than a bull’s arse in fly season.”

That got a proper laugh out of me. “I can hear you’ve been learning from Mickey.”

“I’m a quick study.”

I’d never had a man hold me like Jax was—look at me like I was precious, enough, more than he could believe. He made me feel wanted and…I took a shuddering breath, halting myself from going down a rabbit hole. If memory served me, Alice didn't do all that well when she took a tumble and almost lost her head.

“It takes a lot of practice, time, and effort to swear like a proper Irishman,” I chided.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m planning on stayin’, isn’t it, darlin’ Dee?”

My heart raced. I licked my lips. “I like the thought of that,” I admitted.

This time, when he kissed me, it wasn’t sweet; it was hot and made me want to do all kinds of naughty things with Jax Caldwell, Two-Time PGA Champion, who I was afraid would break my heart.

CHAPTER15

Jax

The son of a bitch showed up the next day after Dee received the letter from the county. I should’ve known he’d come to gloat. The second I heard his smug, self-satisfied voice, my entire body tensed like a coiled spring. I hated the motherfucker for treating Dee the way he did, for being someone who Dee had once loved (yeah, so jealousy was a real thing for me with Dee), and for being a generalarsehole.

“Well, well, well.” Cillian O’Farrell sauntered into the pub, dripping with arrogance. I had to grind my teeth to stop myself from snarling at him like I was a rabid dog.

“Isn’t this a cozy little gathering? What’s the matter, folks? Cat got your tongues?” Thefeckin’ gobshitewas gloating.

---