“Don’t need your charity, bro.”
“Not giving you any.” He laid the last box on top of the pile and wiped his brow. “You put me through school and gave me everything I needed. Let me handle the rent on this place for a while. Hell, when you get supervisor, I’m making you take me out for a steak dinner.”
Connor’s lips turned up. “Prime rib?”
“New York strip at Delmonico’s. Nothing less.”
His brother grunted. “Whatever. Wanna hang out tonight? We can go to the bar and meet Jerry, knock back a few, then catch True Blood.”
“Can’t. I’m meeting Kennedy for a session at the gym.”
“Again? What’s up with all the working out? You sure you’re not screwing her?”
He tamped down his anger at Connor’s crude words. “I’m sure. She’s just helping me find my best self. I’ll be meeting a bunch of women at a mixer next week, and she wants to be sure I’m prepared.”
“Prepared? I did that for you, man. My advice is stellar.”
“Maybe for you,” he muttered. The memory of getting shocked at the bar over and over still made him squirm. Talk about hard-core therapy. “I’m looking for more than a one-night stand. I want something real. Is that too much to ask?”
Connor turned his back. “Do whatever you want. It’s your funeral.”
The door slammed behind him.
Nate groaned. Ah, hell. He didn’t want to hurt Connor’s feelings or insult him. He just needed to be his own person and stop being his brother’s clone. Guilt ate at his gut, but soon he heard the outer door close and knew he’d left. Probably out to the local bar to drown his sorrows and talk smack about his ungrateful little brother.
Nate checked his watch. He needed to meet Kennedy for Zumba in a bit. He’d make it up to Connor later. Maybe take him out for dinner and spend some quality time with him. He tossed on sweat pants and a T-shirt and shoved his feet into sneakers. Then looked in the mirror.
Funny, he looked . . . normal. Even halfway attractive. His eyes seemed more interesting without the large frames, and the goatee that he’d despised and wanted to shave off had grown in nicely. He’d gotten in the habit of lifting some weights after Zumba while Kennedy drilled him, and the muscles he sported already seemed a bit tighter and more defined.
He was officially deemed socially acceptable. His big mixer was set up for Friday night. All three women had declared him ready to hit the next level.
Now, if he could only learn not to shove his foot in his mouth like Fred Flintstone, life would be perfect.
He grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. Shame on him for wishing Kennedy Ashe would be his very own Wilma, ready to accept and love him even with all his noticeable flaws.
This wasn’t primitive times. And that cartoon got canceled a damn long time ago.
Nate ignored the ache in his heart and told himself he was looking forward to the mixer.
ten
NATE WATCHED GREEDILY as Kennedy climbed out of her car, the short tennis dress flipping up in the spring breeze. He figured she’d text him an excuse rather than show up on a midweek morning on the golf course. Her hips swung with an innate sauciness that was part of her core, and she stopped in front of him. Her scarlet nails contrasted sexily against the white dress.
“I didn’t think you’d come.”
She arched a golden brow. “I don’t welsh on my promises. I’m ready to play some golf.”
He almost laughed at the disdain in her voice as she said the word. His spirits lifted and suddenly, he was excited for the few hours ahead. He was such a chump.
“I’m helping someone else out with his swing, but he’s running late. He may catch up with us later. Let’s hit the course.”
He shifted his clubs, guided her into the golf cart, and led her to the first tee. The wooded pines and fir trees tangled amid acres of bright green under a cloudless sky. The air held a hint of chill, but the sun poured down bright and cheerful. Her hushed voice floated in the wind. “It’s so beautiful. And quiet.”
“Midweek is the best time. We can just relax and play around a bit. Less serious stuff.”
“Do you ever think of playing professionally?”
He shook his head and set the clubs down. “Nah, not interested. I enjoy helping others, though, and I’m constantly looking to shave a stroke or two off my game. It’s a mental challenge, but it’s also soothing. Out here, I can clear my head.”
She dragged in a breath and smiled. “Yeah, I see what you mean. I’m always focused on my next task, even when I’m alone, I forget what it’s like to just be.”
“Must be tough trying to bring love to the world.”
She crinkled her nose. “You making fun of me?”
“No. I think you’re held to a higher power than me and my rockets. I help people get to space. You help people find love.”
She drew back in surprise. Those gorgeous whiskey eyes softened. “Thanks.”
“Welcome. You remember the grip we talked about?”
“Like this?”
He spent a few minutes going over the basics and rules of the game. “Use this club for your approach shot. Do you know the target?”
“Oh, can I put the ball in that pretty beach thing there?”
“No, that’s a hazard. Sand trap. If it looks pretty, avoid it.” He pointed right. “Over there, see the flag?”
“That’s a million miles away!”
“You don’t get there in the first shot. Aim that way, and we do it in stages. Each one is a stroke. Right now I want to concentrate on your natural swing. We learned a lot from the simulator, but this will be different. Remember to keep your eye on the ball.”
“Hello, naked Channing Tatum.”
“Thanks for the visual. I just threw up in my mouth.”
Her giggle charmed rather than annoyed him. She drew the club back, rotated nicely, and slammed the club forward, completing a nice full arc.
The ball flew in a perfect spin and landed on the edge of the fairway.
Very close to the green.
How the hell had she done that?
“Oh, man, I suck! I told you I’d suck.”
“Ken, that was a great shot. Most men I teach can’t do that for at least a few weeks. Have you practiced?”
She snorted. “With what? Listen, we need to talk about something serious. I thought you said your golf clothes were designer. When are you going to start listening to me regarding your wardrobe?”