Page 4 of Putting Out
“Right,” Erica said as if it made perfect sense. “That’s off the golf course. Off the golf course, she’s my B.F.F. On the golf course, she’s a B.B. Big Bitch.”
“And Erica is a whore,” Reilly finished. She thought about the implications of saying that in front of what might be Erica’s new boyfriend. “I mean, not really. It’s just the worst name I could come up with since she already took bitch.”
“Whatever.” Kenny removed his caddy coverall and shoved it into the golf bag.
He looked good. As good as a brother could anyway, in faded jeans and a black T-shirt. Reilly guessed she understood what Erica saw in him. He had her same burnished blonde hair that he kept an inch too long and the same dark blue eyes. He hadn’t shaved in the past four days as part of the ritual they had established for tournaments, so he had the gruff thing going. He was no Brad Pitt, but he wasn’t a slouch, either. Hence the trail of broken hearts. But Erica was a grown-up.
“I’ll meet you outside. I’ll hook up with you two for dinner? Your treat, of course.”
Reilly smirked. “Of course.”
It was a time-honored tradition in the Carr household. Winner buys. Just one more downside to winning all the time. She always got stuck with the check.
“Hey,” she called to him before he left. “I’m thinking about going home.”
“Back to Florida?”
“No, home to Little Creek. You should come with me.”
“Why?”
Reilly gave him an admonishing glare.
“Because your grandparents are getting older and don’t get to see either of us as much as they would like. It’s winter and there are a ton of chores they could use our help with. Once it hits mid-February my schedule picks up so this might be our best chance to take a break.”
Kenny said nothing in response.
“Because if I go alone, Grams will spend the whole time talking about why I can’t meet a nice man and settle down. You know, for real this time.”
“That’s what I was waiting for. Sure, I’ll go. Invite Erica. She’s never been to the farm.”
With that he closed the door behind him. Reilly picked up her score card on the table where he left it for her to sign. She double-checked the numbers, although she knew Kenny would have done it for her, and signed the bottom.
“So…you gonna invite me?” Erica drawled.
Reilly winced. There it was. In her voice. The hots. For her brother.
“You don’t want to come out to the farm. It will be cold and snowy. The wheat’s been harvested so the place looks as barren as all get out. There’s a lake, but unless it’s super cold it won’t freeze all the way through so you won’t be able to ice-skate on it and …”
“Don’t be mad.” Erica stopped her.
Reilly lifted her head. Erica was shorter than her own five-nine height, but not by much. Half American, half Korean, she had exotic eyes matched with thick black hair that she wore in a style outlining the shape of her face. In a word, she was a knockout. No misunderstanding what her brother saw in her, either.
“I’m not mad.” She wasn’t. Worried was more like it.
“We’re just testing the waters.”
“The waters or the sheets?”
“Waters first. Sheets next.”
Working hard to block the mental image of her best friend and her brother in bed, Reilly took her card and headed to the door. She needed to hand it off to one of the officials, then go sign autographs.
“All I’m going to say is you know his history.”
Erica rocked back and forth on her golf spikes.
“History is just that.”
