The Wright Boss(79)

"There are so many people here," I told him in surprise.

He laughed. "Yes, golf is a spectator sport. Most people in here are professionals waiting for their tee time or those who didn't make it to this round."

"There are a lot of women in here."

"Yeah, well, wives show up to this tournament a lot. It technically closes out the season until January. And, really, anyone can get in here as long as they know someone."

We were stopped four times on the way to the bar-all golfers who were excited to see Landon at the tournament and asking about when he'd be back. He chatted merrily with all of them. Clearly, a lot of the golfers were close even though Landon had told me it was a pretty solitary life. The amount of time they got to see other golfers was pretty limited, and unless you were already out of the tournament, most guys liked to stay in the right frame of mind to play.

I suspected that Landon had been that kind of player. He had that sort of intensity about him. Plus, he had taken a job so that he could keep his mind active. He took this seriously. I could see it in the respect everyone gave him.

Being here, in this world, with him was a new and crazy experience.

To me, Landon was still a Lubbock-area Wright brother with the Texas charm and easygoing personality. But here … he was so much more.

"You're a celebrity," I whispered in his ear when we caught up with Ryan again.

Landon's eyes glittered with humor. "I'm a professional golfer, love."

"I know. I just … you're a celebrity, Landon. I still remember you from high school when you were … wait, you were the star quarterback. I suppose you were a celebrity then, too."

"Different scale."

"Did you say you've known him since high school?" Ryan asked with a big smile on his face. "Oh God, is this your high school sweetheart who you told me about that one time?"

"No," Landon said at once, his voice clipped.

I frowned at that. He had told other people about Emery? I wasn't jealous about that or anything, just surprised. I'd figured he never talked about what had happened at all. That was what Emery and I had always assumed with the way he'd moved on.

"We never dated in high school. I've just known him for a long time."

"Interesting." Ryan passed Landon and me beers even though it was only eight o'clock in the morning and got a coffee for himself. "Need the caffeine to get through this day now that I've fucking kicked smoking."

We moved over to the balcony and took a table from someone who had gotten up and left the clubhouse to go play. Our view was pretty stellar, and the guys talked shop in a way that was undecipherable to me. I knew as much about golf as Landon did about engineering.



       
         
       
        

By the time Ryan had to go warm up, I was pleasantly buzzed from the beer and in need of a water. I was about to get up when a camera crew buzzed over to us.

"Landon Wright, so good to see you back at a tournament today. Mind if we do a short interview about your injury and recovery?" the man asked.

I hopped out of my chair. "Go ahead. I'm going to get a water, and I'll be back."

"Okay. Be quick."

I could see Landon didn't really want to give the interview, but if he was half the celebrity he seemed to be, it wasn't going to be the only one he'd give today when people realized he was here.

The cameras started rolling as soon as I hopped up from my seat.

"We're here today with a PGA favorite, Landon Wright. This is his first appearance since he dropped out of the US Open in June. Good to see you here today, Landon."

I watched as Landon layered on the charming charism. This was the guy I'd fallen head over heels for. The one who I'd held hands with while roller-skating and eating ice cream and snuggling in his bed. The one who I called my boss and fucker. I was his firecracker. And, somehow, that reality merged with this one.

I disappeared then, letting him have his moment for the camera, and stepped up to the bar. "Two waters, please."

"Sure thing," the bartender said.

"Come on, Ben," a familiar voice squeaked from the end of the bar.

My eyes rounded in horror as I turned my head and found none other than Miranda.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I breathed.

She was seated on a barstool with a man who was one of the golfers that had stopped to talk to Landon earlier today. She was leaning into him and giving him a come-hither look. The term putt slut took on an all-new meaning.

"Miranda, I can't do this. Not when I'm buddies with Landon."

She trailed a finger down his front and grinned devilishly. "You've wanted me for years, and we've stayed away from each other. Time's up."