The walk didn’t help. As soon as I stepped out, all the moisture in my body was vacuumed out from the dry heat.

Twenty minutes later and I was back at Kane’s, attempting to nonchalantly wipe my face off with my shirt that was clinging to every inch of my body.

As soon as I dropped the shirt, my jaw went with it.

“Holy shit,” I murmured as I took in the piles of boxes stacked on his front porch.

Boxes labeled Calloway and Titleist and a host of other boxes with Nordstrom and Saks Fifth Avenue labels were stacked in massive piles.

“He has to be kidding,” I muttered and went to one of the larger boxes that was over four feet high. I shook it, felt the weight and dropped it like the cardboard had burned me. “Golf clubs?”

Holy shit. Kane—or Heather—bought me fucking golf clubs. This was insane.

There was another large box, big enough to be a golf bag. More boxes with some of the nicest golf brands on them. Had to be shoes. Clothes?

What in the hell had he done? And how did he do it so quickly?

I unlocked his front door and propped it open with my foot until I’d dragged one of the boxes into the doorway so it wouldn’t close on me.

After dragging in the rest of the boxes, my sweat that had already been bad was out of control. Hair stuck to the back of my neck, my chest, and every time I tried to cool down, it made it worse.

I needed a shower. And then I’d deal with this mess.

At the first sight of me in the bathroom mirror, I flinched.

I wasn’t a tomato, I was a freaking eggplant. Good grief. Sweat pooled beneath my breasts, creating sweaty little smiley faces and lined through the shirt where my rolls were. I didn’t dare check out my back. It was probably equally soaked through.

This was why I should have only bought black clothing. The sweat stains I created when working out were embarrassing, even if I didn’t normally mind my larger than stick thin sized body.

Hell, in my experience, men loved my curves. At least my breasts and my ass. Perhaps they didn’t like my thick thighs or the rolls over the waistband of my clothing if they didn’t fit perfectly, but few had complained.

Although, I should have swiped deodorant on my thighs given the chafing currently happening in the workout shorts I’d bought.

There was no way Kane decided he needed a brand-new set of clubs and golfing equipment on a whim today.

He bought it for me.

Which meant he and I would need to have a conversation on the limits of help I was comfortable with.

It was too much. Way too freaking much, even if I couldn’t wait to check them out and play a round…

As soon as I wouldn’t turn into a sweaty, oversized mess on the course.