Love Gone South by Crimson Romance

Author:Crimson Romance
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, contemporary
Publisher: Crimson Romance, an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
Published: 2012-11-26T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Marc had not played a worse game of golf since before puberty. He’d be lucky if he didn’t get one of those booby prizes tonight, like shortest drive or most balls in the water. Damn.

Still, he smiled and glad-handed about because that’s what a good sport did. And now he had to go eat barbecue with the press and anyone who had been willing to pay for the privilege of eating with a bunch of sweaty golfers who were supposed to be somebody — though with his abysmal score he sure didn’t feel like much of anybody right now.

He had to hand it to his date — Jessica, aka Miss Texas, had really hung in there and watched the whole tournament, despite that his late arrival that morning had put him in the last group to finish. She didn’t even seem to care how bad he’d played.

Then again, maybe she didn’t know. When he’d broken a hundred, she’d thought that was a good thing.

“Polo?” She sidled up next to him. “I’m about to catch a ride in the next golf cart back to the clubhouse for lunch? Would you like to come?”

The clubhouse was less than a hundred yards away.

“Well, honey,” he said. “That would be real nice, but I’m all sweaty, so I think I’ll walk. But I’ll see you back there.”

She looked torn between disappointment and relief that she wouldn’t have to be exposed to his sweat. Maybe he wouldn’t shower before that shindig tonight. He wasn’t exactly sure why Miss Texas set his teeth on edge. Generally, he liked a beauty queen, and Texas had some of the best. But usually his beauty queens were nowhere in the vicinity of Bailey. He tipped the kid who had caddied for him and started walking.

Damn that Bailey. It was her fault he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn today. Good thing he hadn’t been playing baseball. He’d have been traded, if not sent back to the minors. What were the odds of finding her here in this little Podunk town anyway? Nothing had ever surprised him more. He’d been doing so well, too; he hadn’t even thought about her in close to three days.

The route to the clubhouse took Marc right by the hospitality tent, and he couldn’t help looking toward Bailey’s station. She appeared to be packing up her medical supplies. Marc knew he had no business going anywhere near her, but his feet carried him there anyway.

She lifted her head and gave him a tired look. “Do you need more Tylenol?”

He intended to say something nice. He really did. But a sullen eighth-grader took hold of his faculties and made him say, “No. I’m reporting for my colonoscopy.”

“Ha. I wish,” she said.

“I’ll bet you do.” If a fourteen-year-old had been running the show inside him — and had been ever since he’d laid eyes on Bailey this morning — now

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