Page 22 of Pickled
“Are you sure? I don’t mind driving you home.” Stoicism made him hard to read. Was he sad? Angry? Indifferent?
“I go for a walk every morning.”
CC bounded down the stairs and cut directly in front of my feet. I sucked in a breath as I stumbled, my arms flailing as I tried to catch the bannister. Before I could, Gideon’s arm wrapped protectively around my waist, stopping the tumble. “T-thanks.” I regained my footing, letting myself enjoy the warmth of the hand pressed firmly on my lower back until we reached the landing. It didn’t feel like the touch of a passing fling; it felt possessive but in a good way.
“I’ll get your stuff.”
My heart sank as his hand left my body,
Olive’s father split the second he found out about her, and he was the biological father. What would a man like Gideon do?
While he was at the pool, thedo I tell himdebate raged within me.
He was a hockey player. I was a single mom who scrubbed toilets. We didn’t have a chance in hell. We’d had one amazingnight, and now it was time to get back to our regularly scheduled programming. Telling him the truth would unnecessarily complicate a situation that wasn’t a situation at all.
No. I didn’t need to tell him anything. This was the last time I’d be in his house. If I did run into him, it would be on the street, and like we’d promised, we would wave and give each other forced smiles—because that’s what good neighbors do.
9
GIDEON
The crackof the driver connecting with the golf ball cut through the air like a gunshot.
“Nice shot, Bailey.” Jameson whistled as he held his hand over his eyes, following the trajectory of the ball.
“Thanks.” I stepped off the tee box and leaned on my driver while Jameson teed up his ball. His shot was perfect, rolling to a stop just in the center of the fairway, just past mine.
A light smattering of applause broke out from the patio. I was used to spectators, but I usually had a hockey stick in my hand, not a golf club. The Azalea Bay Club was one of the most exclusive country clubs in the county, and I expected its members to be stuffy and above clapping for shots. A couple more cheers confirmed that I was wrong.
I’d almost said no when Jameson asked me to come golfing but remembered my mantra. Not theshut up and play hockeyone, but theI’m here to win the cupone. Bonding with the guys was important, and I’d rather spend the day on the golf course than at another nightclub.
Jameson slid into the driver’s seat of the cart, and we followed Owens and Riley as they drove to the tenth tee.
A couple of very “put-together” women were seated beneath the red-and-white striped sunshades. They waved and cheered as we passed by. Expensive perfume wafted through the air as the sun glinted off their perfect teeth. Owens and Riley waved back. Before I could give my obligatory wave, I found myself crumpled into the dash of the cart.
“Ooof.” I grunted and slid back onto the seat. Mitch’s hands gripped the wheel, and both of his feet were firmly planted on the cart’s brake pedal. “What the hell?”
Thanks to Mitch’s reflexes, we’d barely escaped a two-cart pileup. “Sorry, Bailey. Look at these idiots.” Owens and Riley had stopped in the middle of the cart path to chat with the women on the patio.
“Boys, can we get an autograph?” The woman’s bleached blonde ponytail bobbed over the band of her visor. The red of her lips matched her tennis skirt perfectly.
“Meet us at the nineteenth,” Owens shouted.
“You got it.” Her skirt whipped like a figure skater’s as she spun and returned to her seat.
Owens and Riley’s cart lurched forward, and we followed. The ladies’ eyes tracked our every move over the rims of their martini glasses.
“Now I know how women feel when they walk past a construction site,” I grumbled.
“Like a piece of meat?” Mitch smiled. “The Azalea Bay Club women are like puck bunnies, but rabid ones. They’re used to getting what they want.”
Piper had mentioned she was a member of the club in passing, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t imagine her sitting at the table with the Azalea Bay ladies. “I’m sure they’re not all like that.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not, but I’m not going to hang around and find out. Owens and Riley should stick to the regular bunnies.Thesewomen are not worth the trouble. Last year, Stevens, one of our defensemen, got tangled up with one of them. Rumor has it that the husband’s lawyer got Stevens traded, but not before he got him jumped after practice.”
“They think the husband beat him up?” The cart came to a stop, and I checked the distance to the pin on the scope. “Couldn’t that have been a coincidence?”
“Ha.” Jameson laughed. “I forget that you’re from a small town.”
