Page 63

No getting personal.

Did wanting to get her naked count as personal? How about that twist in my heart when she laughed?

“They’re both back home in Seattle,” I said. Close to my mom. I was the one who sent money home instead of visiting. Guilt punched at me, but I shoved that away—nothing I could do about it now. “My brother Conrad has a son—Arthur. He’s ten, but I remember him having a few trips to the emergency room at Jack’s age, too.”

Jude gave Cassandra a look that said,see?

But she was still on the phone. I realized then she’d probably gladly taken the call so she wouldn’t have to talk to us. My own phone was in my pocket on silent—I’d gotten into the habit of turning off the ringer when I was around Cassandra. I’d said it was so I could put all my attention on the review, but I couldn’t help thinking about that calendar deadline looming ever closer. The one where I left the Rolling Hills, and Cassandra, and went back to my slick, back-to-back appointments, all-work-no-play life in New York.

Cassandra ended her call and, just like that, all thoughts of anything else vaporized.

“Welcome to my alternate lair,” Jude said, waving at a staff member coming up the path, and again at one of the caddies. A few of the mostly older crowd of golfers milled around the front entrance of the garage, but they appeared to be of the wrong generation to recognize him.

“It must be exhausting for everyone to know who you are all the time?” I said. I already knew what it was like to walk into a conference lunch in Manhattan and be surrounded by people who knew me in the industry. It felt gratifying, sort of, but also overwhelming when I wasn’t in the mood for eyes on me. Which was more and more often these days.

“It’s fine,” Jude shrugged. “At least, I’m used to it.”

“You love it,” Cassandra said.

Jude shrugged, but the corner of his mouth went up. “Most of the time.”

I still wasn’t sure if he was putting on a show or not. Cassandra’s brother was more complex than I’d first guessed.

“Alright,” Jude said then, unlocking the door to the garage. “I’d like to introduce you to my beloved girls.”

He switched on the fluorescent lights overhead, revealing a large concrete space filled with a fleet of a half-dozen carts. There were empty stalls for at least as many more. It was cool down here and smelled vaguely of gasoline and grass-clippings, thanks to the other fleet of drivable lawnmowers on the far wall.

“Now, because you’re family, I’m going to recommend you take my favorite cart, Skeleton Sally.”

“You’re not serious,” Cassandra said.

“Of course I am! Nothing but the best for family.”

“I meant the name!” Cassandra said. “S-Kelly-ton.”

“There’s also Five-hole Harriet—which I know sounds kind of rude,”

I coughed out a laugh as I walked along the line of carts. I stopped at the one at the end of the row. Unlike the others, which were glossy and fresh, this one was scuffed-up; dented on one side; and even had a screw sticking out, sideways and bent.

“Ah. Sweet Chitty-Chitty,” Jude said. “A good ol’ gal. She’s got a few miles on her. Reliable though, and full of flavor. Will she veer right when you steer left? Maybe. Does her horn sound like a dying duck? Most definitely. But will she show you a good time? I guaran-fucking-tee it,”

Even Cassandra laughed then. She came around to the side of the car where I stood. She was so close now. So fucking close.

“Let’s take it,” I said. I just wanted to get the hell out of here. I needed to be alone with Cass.

“You’ll be the first one to drive this puppy in a while though. She doesn’t get much use these days.”

“Perfect,” I said.

Jude grinned and tossed me the keys.

“Your man’s got taste,” he said to his sister, not registering that what he said might be misconstrued.

Your man.

She shifted closer to me—close enough that we were standing side-by-side, almost, but not quite touching.

My skin was on fire. I reached out, blood roaring in my ears, and placed my hand on the small of Cassandra’s back.