Page 12

Chapter 12

A nicely dressed disaster

Cooper

In the offseason, my sponsor commitments increased. Between the workouts with the guys still in town and those obligations, the week went quickly, and I was looking forward to seeing Callie again. I expected she’d be prickly to start, but once she relaxed, she was interesting.

This week we had an actual tee time. I’d booked it for late in the day. I wanted the keen golfers to get through their rounds so we had time for Callie to learn without being rushed by the group behind us. It would have been better to go on a weekday, but she’d never agree to that.

When I pulled up in front of her building in the Bentley, she was already waiting. She was wearing one of the new top and skort pairings she’d bought and she looked exactly right for the club. She had a new bag over her shoulder, holding probably her dress and makeup and whatever. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She started toward the car before I’d stopped it.

“You look nice,” I told her once she’d slid in and buckled her seat belt. I checked for traffic and moved north.

“Thank you.” She looked down at herself, as if to verify that she did look nice. I held back a grin. “Oh, you do too.”

Of course I did. I’d made sure of it before I left my condo. Growing up, I’d had to earn my mother’s approval before leaving the house, until I got good enough to not require her final check. “Thank you. How was your week?”

She drew in a long breath. “I need to apologize to you.”

My brows flew up. “What for?”

“One of the partners, Mr. Anderson—the man who came over at the charity dinner?”

I nodded, remembering the man.

“Well, he was talking to me, and said something about knowing you and, well, I kind of boasted that I had gone to Briarwood with you.”

Disappointment. That was what I felt. I hadn’t expected that of Callie.

“I don’t know what got into me, but he was just so pleased at the thought I knew one of the hockey players, and I was feeling uncomfortable about how I might have messed up at the charity dinner with that dress, and I wanted to make a good impression.”

“It’s okay.” It was done. I should be used to people taking advantage by now.

“No, it’s not. It’s what Benson would do.”

That made me laugh. “Is that your guideline—if Benson would do it, it must be wrong?”

“That might work more often than not. Again, I’m sorry. He thought we were maybe dating, but at least I didn’t try to claim that. I told him we were just friends. That’s okay, isn’t it? You said we’d go to your sister’s wedding as friends.”

That’s what I’d said. And it was what we were doing. “I can live with being friends.”

“And I have something else I should apologize for. But it’s mostly your fault.”

Callie could learn some things about apologizing. “You’re going to say you’re sorry I made you do something?”

“No, of course not. But earlier this week, Mr. Anderson wanted to see me and I noticed how nice his suit was. I hadn’t paid attention to that before, and you are right. My idea of earning a partnership by hard work and worrying about appearances afterward may not be feasible.”

Her firm was one of the most conservative in the city. Appearances would matter a lot to them. Whatever she wore to work must be better than that green dress or she wouldn’t have come as far as she did. “So, I’ve converted you to dressing well?”

“Maybe. My ideas and yours might differ a lot, but I’m going to have to up my appearance game. I apologize for fighting you on that.”

“I’m happy to help, if you need any advice.”

She shot a glance at me. “You know what to wear on the golf course, I accept that. I’m not sure you understand how I need to dress for work.”

I stiffened. “What do you think I’d want you wearing? Miniskirts and low-cut blouses?”

She sighed. “No, but even this.” She waved down her body. “It’s too snug.”

“It’s not too snug. It’s not slutty, it’s classy.”

“I understand that. But the first thing people are going to notice about me? Is my chest.”

“Maybe not the first thing.”

“It’s either the boobs or the hair. Guarantee it.”

“And you don’t want that.”

“I need people to believe I have a brain. That I got my job because I’m smart and I work hard. All my life people have dismissed me because of how I look.”

“Seriously?”

“When I wear my ‘fade into the background’ clothes I look a little frumpy, but then people believe I’m a boring tax expert. I’ve spent years learning what I know. I want people to trust my advice, not second-guess me because I have a large bustline.”

I’d never considered that. I’d never had to.

“Now I need to find a way to look less frumpy but still find something that’s not going to distract people by emphasizing my boobs.”

I might have missed something important with how Callie had to operate, but I could make up for it. “Let me see what I can come up with.”

She shook her head. “You’re doing enough. I’m going to start changing the colors I wear and get better quality. Then maybe I’ll get some things tailored, a little, so they’re not quite as loose. But I don’t want people to notice the wrong thing.”

I wanted to insist I go with her. To pick the things I knew would work. I claimed it was easy to look good, but that didn’t mean everyone knew how to pick the right clothes. That was what personal shoppers and advisors were for.

But Callie was a grown woman, a successful tax attorney, and she was smart. I couldn’t push in and insist on her doing things my way. A dress for the wedding, sure, because then she’d be facing the judgment of my family and their circle, and I didn’t want her to go in unarmed. “If I can help, just let me know.”

“Thanks.” She paused, and I heard a laugh in her next words. “Did it hurt, not asking to pick out the clothes?”

I smiled, delighted that she was relaxed enough to joke. “Truly painful. But I do get to pick the dress you’re wearing to the wedding.”

She sighed. “That’s going to be worse than the golf clothes.”

But there was a little grin on her face as she said it. Callie had a sense of humor under those prickles. Which were mostly lying flat today.

We turned into the club driveway again and pulled up to the valet. It was a different kid, but he called me Mr. Cooper and I gave him a warm smile. Some club members thought it was okay to be an asshole with the staff, and I did my best to treat them like the people they were.

Once he drove off with the car, and Callie and I were standing by our clubs, she asked what the plan was for today.

“We’re going to hit the greens.”

“Am I ready for that?”

I shrugged. “Probably not. We’re going to do a little bit of putting first. I didn’t want a bunch of the more serious types rushing us, so I booked a later tee time. It might be a little hot, but we can take time to talk you through it. You have sunscreen, right?”

“Of course.”

I checked in at the pro shop. I’d booked a cart, but not a caddie—I didn’t think Callie was ready for anyone to watch her that closely yet. With an hour to kill, we went to the putting greens, mostly empty at this time of day.

I pulled out a putter and a few balls. “Have you played mini golf?” It was as close to putting as she was likely to have done.

She eyed me suspiciously. “Are you saying there’s a windmill out here to roll that ball past?”

I grinned. “No, but the windmill might be less frustrating. Ready to start?”

* * *

Callie

Cooper was patient.

It was probably a hockey thing, needing to be patient to, I don’t know, shoot or skate or hit people. But I was so bad at this, and he never lost his calm. If I didn’t have a deadline at the end of the summer, we’d have been better staying at the practice place.

I learned, after repeated shots that went in the wrong direction, that you only had so much time to find your ball, and if you didn’t, you took the “drop.” I didn’t care—I wasn’t even keeping track of my score after the first couple of holes.

It seemed like cheating to me, but I used the easiest tee box. The first hole, I almost argued with Cooper. Wouldn’t it be better to learn the most difficult tasks first? That didn’t last because I was so bad at this.

We were slow, so I also learned about letting others play through. I preferred not to have someone watching me as I missed hitting the ball or hit it a paltry distance, or hit it far but in the wrong direction.

We’d let four groups play through before we finished up, and I was so done by that point. My hands were sore from swinging the club. I had aching muscles almost everywhere, because it seemed running didn’t give you any advantages for golfing. I was sweaty, and pretty sure my nose was turning red in spite of repeated application of sunscreen. Loose strands of hair were catching in my mouth and clinging to my neck.

I held up a hand to Cooper. “I don’t even want to know the score.”

He laughed and grabbed the golf bags. I let him, too tired to fight him. Now I had to try to pretty up and prepare for the dining room again. I blew a breath up my face to move the hair falling over my eyes.

We dropped off the cart. I didn’t want to consider how my muscles would ache if we hadn’t had that. I felt Cooper’s eyes on me as we walked toward the clubhouse.

“I have a suggestion.”

He was going to suggest more practice. I needed it, I knew, and I was the one who’d limited our sessions here to Sundays. But damn it, I was so tired…

“What if we skip the dining room today?”

I glanced down. I must have looked as bad as I felt. But yeah, this was probably not the time for dining room lessons.

“And practice instead?” My voice might have been whiny, but I felt like a kid in that I knew it was a good thing to do but I really, really didn’t want to.

Cooper shook his head. “You’ve already pushed your limit. Practicing now will just risk injury.”

I could have kissed him for that— Wait, where had that come from? “Thanks. That was a lot.”

“We could grab a bite somewhere else, where it doesn’t matter if you use your phone or cross your legs.”

“Sure.” I remembered those rules, and posture was a big issue as well. No tipping.

I nodded before I realized I’d just agreed to eat with Cooper. In a non-country club setting. Was this outside our agreement?

We waited by the valet stand for the car. “You don’t have to take me somewhere to eat.”

He raised a brow. “I thought you could pick up the tab.”

Oh. Oh, that? Definitely. “Of course I will.”

The valet came up with the Bentley, driving it with caution, and I caught a glint in Cooper’s eye that told me he’d planned that exchange. He knew telling me I could offset the financial imbalance would have me agreeing immediately.

I just didn’t know why he’d wanted that.

We went to a pho restaurant in the north end of the city. It had a mostly Asian clientele and staff, and no one paid us any attention.

Once we’d ordered beer and pho, Cooper leaned back in the booth across from me. “So what do you think of golfing now?”

I flexed my hands. “It’s more physically demanding than I’d expected.”

“Are you sore?”

I moved my shoulders. They ached, as did my arms and my thighs, but not too badly. “A little, but nothing serious.”

“Take some anti-inflammatories and use heat and ice.”

My spine stiffened. I knew how to take care of myself. But that was stupid—he was a professional athlete, and if anyone knew how to take care of injuries, he did.

So I swallowed that reaction. “And stretching?”

“You got it.”

“Can you tell me what I need to do to improve? I mean, more than ‘everything.’”

He chuckled. “It was your first time on the course, and only your third time hitting the ball. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

I sighed. “Is this worth it? Or am I just going to be a nicely dressed disaster at the tournament? It’s almost July, and the tournament is the third weekend in September.”

“You can only do one day a week?”

I considered. “It’s not just the hours I put in at the office on Saturday. I need time to do laundry and clean the condo. I can’t ask Darcy to do all the shopping.”

“What about an evening?”

Our server came with our meals then. The aroma had my stomach gurgling. Cooper heard—he held back a grin as he thanked the woman.

I picked up my spoon and stirred the contents of the bowl. I leaned over and took a deep breath in. This was going to be good.

“It’s a long drive to Briarwood to try to make it in an evening.”

Cooper added some chili sauce to his bowl. “There are places in the city to practice. We could work on your swing and your distance if you aren’t at the office late every day.”

Damn, I sounded so boring. My life revolved around my job. An unfamiliar voice said I deserved a break. But that could come once I’d secured my position in the firm. I needed that.

Unfortunately, as I was becoming aware, I needed more than an established work ethic and familiarity with the tax act. I needed to show I fit in. And this tournament was my chance to prove that.

“Summers the workload usually gets a little lighter.” I used that time to do more reading since tax was a constantly evolving beast. Governments added and changed what was in the tax act, and rulings by the courts affected the interpretation of that. “I can take an evening or two.”

“What nights work best for you?”

“Aren’t you busy?” Darcy had a social life when he wasn’t working. Most people did, right?

He swallowed some noodles. “This is the offseason. No games in the evenings.”

But what about dates? Not your business.

I pulled out my phone, checking my schedule. “I’m preparing a file this week which is going to take some extra hours, but as long as it’s ready for Monday, I can be flexible about the time I spend on it.”

He squinted, looking out the window. “You need a day or two for those muscles to recover. Wednesday and Friday?”

Wasn’t Friday— No, not my business. If Cooper was willing to help me, I’d use it. But I should be helpful in return. If only I could think of a way to do that. “I’d appreciate it if you could spare that time.”

He gave a lazy smile. “Maybe golf coaching can be my follow-up career when I’m done with hockey.”

I held back a snort. Like this guy needed a fallback. Did he?

I’d done some research on him—if I was going to trust a big step to my future with him, I wanted to know about him. He had an insanely large contract to play hockey. There would be agent fees and taxes, but still. And his endorsements. He would have to work hard to spend all that money. But he’d grown up with money, and I felt confident he knew what to do with it.

He could have a secret gambling habit or something, but my bet was that he was taking care of his future just fine.

“I’ll book us some time on those evenings.”