“That’d be awesome.”

It’d at least give me something to do with my time once my side healed, even if I only went to the driving range.

We toured, kept driving along. He showed me the pool, the tennis courts—asked me if I kicked ass on those two to which I had to reply not in the least.

“Good,” he’d said. “Maybe there’s something I can beat you at then.”

Like we’d be friends who hung out.

It must have been that, that made me feel so welcome, maybe the quiet teasing and the kindness all around, or maybe that he was Heather’s brother and they shared so many similar mannerisms that allowed me to drop my defenses, forget about why I was there, and enjoy the hour we spent tooling around on the golf cart.

Because for some reason, as we were headed back, my face full of sunshine and my chest swarming with excitement to get some golfing in, I leaned back and closed my eyes and found myself saying, “I found out my fiancé was cheating on me, and when I confronted him, he beat the shit out of me.”

Five

Kane

I’d tried to keep my mouth shut. Tried so damn hard I almost broke one of my crowns. But damn, I couldn’t imagine. This sexy as hell woman who smelled like springtime. Whose laugh forced me to think of hockey stats so I didn’t sport a hard-on as I showed her around the neighborhood so she’d know where to go.

Every time I caught sight of the scrapes on her face, the stitches done so perfectly she hopefully wouldn’t scar, I wanted to beat the shit out of someone.

Anyone.

Too bad we weren’t playing Colorado for a couple of weeks. There was a giant asshole on that team I’d love to greet with my fists as I thought about the cuts on Emmersyn’s face.

I forced myself not to slam on the brakes once she spoke.

She reached up and rubbed at her stitches and grimaced.

“What in the hell?”

“You ever use a dating app?” she asked, so quietly, so brokenly, I almost cracked the steering wheel.

“No. They don’t go well for guys like me.”

“Right. Well Lincoln did. Lots of them. Apparently ever since we moved in together last year he’s been using them. Who knows how long he was on them before then.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.” She popped the p and looked off in the distance. The views were gorgeous, Red Rock Canyon far beyond the golf course with nothing stopping the view from being perfect.

Like hell she was seeing it though.

“And I did the dumbest thing when I caught him.”

“How did you?”

“Walked behind the couch where he was watching TV and on his phone, happened to glance down at the wrong time.” She shrugged and trailed off.

“Sounds like the right time to me.” I hadn’t been a great husband. Hell, I was up there on the scale of shitty meter, but no good man cheated on a good woman.