Page 120 of Twisted Shot
“My expectations have always been low,” Theo mutters, following the group toward the carts, already plotting which club will make the best weapon when the time comes.
But then?—
A yell cuts through the birdsong.
“Tilly!”
It’s shouted across the green, followed by a chorus of whistles, hoots, and catcalls. Theo whips around—and there they are.
Jesse’s standing atop a golf cart like a pirate on a ship, waving a putter in the air. Carter’s beside him, raising a can of beer. Tristan’s already shirtless for some reason. Pavel just nods, sipping something from a metal flask.
And in front of them—Mila.
She’s standing just off the first tee box, sunlight spilling over her. A tiny pleated golf skirt and a fitted collared tank hug her curves. Her legs are bare and golden, crossed at the ankle, and her hair’s pulled back into a sleek braid, a few strands teasing loose in the breeze. Sunglasses perch on her sun-freckled nose, and she tilts her head when she catches him staring. The smile that spreads across her face is slow and knowing, like she's been waiting all morning for him to notice.
The sight of her slams into Theo, flooding his senses—hot and dizzying. Like he’s been punched in the chest with affection. She looks like summer, like trouble, like everything that’s his.
And damn, she’s sohis.
Beside her, Natalie is the perfect counterpoint—dressed head-to-toe like a time traveler from a 1930s country club. She’s wearing an aggressively patterned pair of knicker-boxers, a matching sweater vest, and a cabbie cap that’s tilted at a jaunty angle. She’s leaning on her putter like a cane.
“What the hell is this?” Theo breathes.
Jesse opens his arms wide, grinning. “Surprise! We booked the tee times before and after yours. Couldn’t let you suffer in rich-boy hell without support.”
“We brought noise,” Carter adds, lifting beers and a can of Pringles from his golf bag. “And snacks.”
“And,” Mila says sweetly, appearing beside him, looping her arms around his waist, “someone to stare at while you putt.”
Theo exhales, tension bleeding out of his shoulders as Mila rises onto her toes and kisses the corner of his mouth.
Jake shrugs. “Told you to hang on.”
Maybe today won’t be so bad after all.
Conrad’s voice slices through the green like a whip.
“Porky. Get him down from that cart.Now.This isn’t the zoo, control your gorilla friends.”
Theo stops cold, mid-step. Mila stiffens at his side. The air snaps tight as everyone whips their heads to glare at Conrad, eight murderous expressions hitting him with the full force of their loathing.
It’s Carter—leaning back against the cart, arms crossed—who speaks first.
“What did you just call me, man?”
Conrad blinks.
The color drains from his face like wine spilling from a broken glass.
Jesse hops down from the roof in one smooth motion, landing beside Carter in a crouch. He straightens slowly, all mock innocence.
“Uh-oh, bro,” he says wide-eyed, shaking his head.
“I didn’t—” Conrad stammers. “That wasn’t directed at?—”
Carter steps in close and claps a heavy hand on Conrad’s back, the force knocking him forward half a step. It’s almost friendly. Almost.
“Relax, man. I’m fuckin’ with you.”
