The sky was overcast, and I had the day off from practice until this evening when we would meet up to watch films for the upcoming game on Friday.

Our first preseason game.

Then after, immediately following, my wedding.

To this bombshell of a goddess whose fluid and perfect golf swing left me looking at her plump ass on her follow through and having to hope like hell she couldn’t see how much her body in that golf dress affected me.

“You’re not as bad as you told me you were,” she said, dropping her club to the tee box, bent over to grab her tee.

And fuck me. Twelve holes into the round and that move, where she kicked up her foot to grab the tee, had me fighting back a damn groan every time.

She wasn’t even trying to be sexy. As soon as we stepped on the course, she was focused. Yeah she was having fun, but there were calculations behind her vivid green eyes I could only dream of having. A knowledge of the game, her game, that came from growing up on the course and having professional instructors.

All things she’d confirmed by the fifth hole when she was still hitting from the ladies’ tees, scoring eagle and birdie, right after the other and beating me by twelve strokes in the first nine holes.

At the turn to hole ten, she joined me at the men’s tee box. While her eagles and birdies had switched to pars and birdies instead due to the extra distance, there was no way in hell I’d catch up to her.

Not that it mattered. I came out with her for fun, to give her something else to think of.

Because yesterday, bright and early on Monday morning, she called Glen Hayes, after we’d opened up a bank account for her on Saturday.

Afterward, she’d gone to withdraw money from her account with Lincoln and found there was nothing in it.

Unfortunately, Glen was on vacation, or so his office claimed because Emmersyn didn’t believe a word of it. Said the guy’s last vacation had been in the year two thousand and five, and he worked fifteen hours a day, even on holidays.

Regardless, there was no hope of her getting access to the funds she was allowed to have while he was gone since there were strict instructions—set in place by Lincoln, she’d admitted with gritted teeth—that no one else was to access the account.

Which meant, until Glen returned to work, she couldn’t switch the bank account where the monthly allowance from the trust was sent to and she had nothing except the money Heather had given her.

She’d looked thirty seconds from chucking her new iPhone off my balcony and into the pool after that phone call, so I suggested the only thing that’d take her mind off it.

And it worked. For her.

As soon as we stepped up to the first tee box, she was completely focused.