Page 27 of Save Me (The Wolf Hotel Mermaid Beach #2)

T hree men loiter by the clubhouse gates when I arrive at two minutes before seven, the golf cart I commandeered to race here coming to a jarring halt. Behind them, Archie and the other caddies wait with the clubs.

I could pick out Henry from a mile away just by the way he stands, like he owns the air we’re all breathing. But he seems in a good mood this morning, his deep laughter carrying through the calm morning. It’s likely an act. He can fake anything for the sake of his business.

“… it’s not every day you get an entire course to yourself,” the burly man with a full head of short and curlies says. I recognize his face from the files. That’s Jim Harris, CEO of Axis Core, the major consulting firm out of New York City. The other guy is Mark Mancuso, his CFO.

“And here is our fourth,” Henry announces, checking his watch as if to make a point.

I knew that punch was going to leave a mark, but damn, the purple bruising under his left eye is dark. I flex my hand to test the soreness.

The truth is, I almost bailed on this tee time, on this meeting, on this whole goddamn director’s charade.

I was standing under the showerhead at home—Henry’s home—letting the water soak my skin as I replayed my favorite moments with Sloane and wondering why I’d want to be anywhere other than still lying in bed next to her.

When I toweled up, I nearly packed my shit then and there.

But I decided against it. Why make it easy for Henry by quitting? He can man up and fire me to my face.

A part of me is relieved he hasn’t done it—yet. If nothing else, it would certainly complicate things for this weekend, given Britt and Dani are staying at the house. And then there’s Tasha as well.

I hop out of the cart, smoothing the creases from the dress pants I threw on. It’s already balmy out, and sweat is forming around my shirt collar.

“Gentlemen, this is my director of facilities, Ronan Lyle,” Henry says smoothly.

We exchange greetings before Henry gestures toward the waiting carts. “Day’s only going to get hotter. We’re right behind you.”

The two men both lament the humidity as they trudge toward their respective chariots, leaving Henry and me alone.

He turns to face me, as if he wants me to get a good look at the damage I caused, but he says nothing. He simply waits. For what ?

“Good night?” I ask, knowing how much it’ll irritate him.

“For the most part, yes.”

More staring.

Finally, I can’t stand it. “If you’re waiting for an apology, you’re gonna miss your golf game.”

“Funny, I’ve been told I ’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m not sure that I agree.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” I got a text from Abbi late last night, but I’d already silenced my phone, my focus on Sloane and every inch of her body.

Abbi wanted my version of events, but I’m more curious about the version Henry told her.

“So, does your pregnant wife know you’re entertaining the idea of tag-teaming the neighbor, or did you leave that part out? ”

“You idiot. Do you honestly think I have any interest in fucking another woman and that woman, specifically?”

“Then what was that last night? Were you just swinging your dick around to try and prove it’s bigger?” Which it’s not. I have it on good authority.

“That was me testing you to see if you’re actually serious about this one or if you just brought her to irritate me.”

My dark chuckle carries. “Narcissistic prick. You think I live and breathe to find ways to stick it to you?”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, now that I know this isn’t a head game, I can see that you’re even dumber than I thought.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

Henry checks over his shoulder to confirm that Archie and the other caddie are feigning intense focus on our clubs.

He takes a step closer. “What are you going to do, when I unveil our plans and the news reaches her? What are you going to say when she asks you if you knew? Are you going to lie to her?”

The thought has crossed my mind, but the more time I spend with Sloane, the less likely I’d be able to stomach that. Plus, I’ve never been a good liar. “Leave her out of your plan. Leave the Sea Witch where it is.”

He scoffs. “That’s impossible. The harborfront footprint will all change.”

I expected as much. “Fine. At least leave her home alone.”

“That’s up to the county, not me.”

“That’s bullshit!”

Archie turns in his seat, his eyebrows climbing halfway up his forehead.

I temper my tone. I doubt I’ll get another pass for hitting him. “You and I both know that if you don’t want it to happen, it won’t happen. Everyone wants to make you happy, right?”

Henry’s lips purse. “Look, maybe I should have gone about things differently last night?—”

My loud bark of laughter carries, cutting off his words and earning his glare.

“I’ve given you an opportunity of a lifetime. Don’t throw it away.” He turns to leave but falters. “Also, you get one. Last night was it.” He holds up his index finger to emphasize it, and then he’s marching to his cart.

Did Henry Wolf just apologize to me? It wasn’t a good apology, if that, but it’s more than I expected from him.

I dwell on this as I head for my cart.

“Morning, slugger,” Archie greets me with his usual Cheshire cat grin.

I slide into my seat, acutely aware of soreness in various muscles. Last night was a workout. “So, you’ve heard about that.”

“You kidding?” Our cart starts with a jolt, and then Archie is speeding down the path after Henry. “I’ve never gotten so many messages in my life. My phone’s been going nonstop. I don’t even know half these people. I don’t know how they got my number.”

“Look at you, popular guy. You didn’t tell them shit, right?”

“I don’t know shit! But I wouldn’t if I did. I know how things work around here.”

“Good.”

He hesitates. “So, why didn’t he fire you?”

I’ve been asking myself that since last night, and the only answer I can come up with is Abbi. That or he’s not as big a prick as I thought. No, it’s got to be the former. “I guess I’m just too good at my job to lose.”

Archie snickers, but then his eyes widen as if remembering something. “Oh, by the way, I watched Basic Instinct last night.”

“Connor’ll be so proud.”

“So, Belinda did that to you? The leg … the skirt … the thing?”

“Jesus, Archie.” He can’t even say it out loud. A thousand bucks says my assistant is still riding the V-train. He’s probably never even had his dick sucked. “She did, indeed.”

“Wow. I would … wow .”

He would either pass out or prematurely blow his load. But it’s best for his sake that Belinda sticks to abusing Connor.

I reach over to ruffle Archie’s hair as we pull up to the first hole. “Now, be a good caddie and don’t let me look stupid.”

“Nice birdie!” Archie exclaims as I retrieve my ball and toss it to him.

“That means one under par, right?” He’s been coaching me on the terms and scoring between holes.

“You got it.”

We close the distance to where the others wait, having shot their rounds already.

“Did I hear you say you don’t golf?” Mark calls out, doubt lacing his thick accent. Arkansas, if I had to guess.

“Beginner’s luck.” Though I’ve been averaging par or close to it on each hole. If this keeps up, I could walk away with a score in the low eighties, which, according to Archie, is unheard of for a guy who doesn’t know how to play and hates everything about the game.

“Seems like Henry’s brought in a ringer,” Jim muses beside him, equally suspicious.

“Now, why would I do that, gentlemen? He’s got no skin in it. Do you, Ronan?” Henry smiles knowingly .

“Not a dime.” Meanwhile, these rich assholes have thrown in ten thousand apiece in a private pool, winner takes all. I think that’s why they came down here—to golf, gamble, and tell tall tales about women they’ll never fuck. I haven’t heard a word about Axis Core booking their next event.

“A distraction, then. Another one of Henry’s head games.” Jim wipes his sweaty brow with his forearm. We’re halfway through the round, it’s hot as hell out here, and I won’t be surprised if we have to call an ambulance for the guy before it’s all said and done.

An ear-piercing rooster call sounds then, earning a round of winces.

“Now, that ’s a distraction,” Mark says. “Dang, Henry, where’s that comin’ from?”

“The neighbor,” he grumbles. “We’re dealing with it.”

No, you’re not. I grin at the tree line. Is Sloane over there, poking Ralph to get him to sing? I wouldn’t be surprised.

I should call her. I really want to, just to hear her voice. I hated rushing out of her bed this morning. Then she sideswiped me with baby talk while I was putting on my pants. I was not expecting it—that early in the day and the relationship.

“So, Henry, we’re halfway through the game. I think we’ve given it enough time.” Mark’s mischievous gaze darts to Jim. “What’s with the shiner?”

“Why? You like it?”

He throws his arms out. “Who the hell punched you in the face? Who’d be that stupid? ”

Archie bolts for the golf cart with my clubs slung over his shoulder as if to avoid a pending explosion.

“That is a very good question.” Henry stalls answering with a long, leisurely sip of his bottled water. “Ronan? You have any idea who that guy was?”

“Nope. No idea.” With a shrug, I saunter toward the carts.