got more wisdom like that, you’ll have to introduce me to her sometime.”
Ruby Grace smiled at that. “I just might.”
We were quiet the rest of the way back to the stable, and when we both hopped down and I took all the riding equipment off Tank, I gave him a treat, patting his butt affectionately before Ruby Grace and I made our way back toward the party.
“Thank you,” she said, tucking her hands in the back pockets of her shorts. “For tonight. I haven’t felt that kind of peace in a long time.”
“No problem,” I said, coming to a stop. She turned, brows furrowed. “Figured I’d let you walk up first, go find your friends. I’ll come up in a bit, that way no one thinks we were together.”
She rose one brow. “I’m pretty sure they already know.”
“Well, then, let’s fuck with them,” I said. “Give them something to make them doubt it all when they’re gossiping in the morning.”
Ruby Grace smiled even wider at that, and before I knew what she was doing, she crossed the space between us and threw her arms around my neck. I opened my own just in time to catch her, to feel her tight little body pressed against me as she gave me a hug.
“Stay out of trouble, Noah Becker.”
“Never.”
She chuckled, letting me go and waving at me over her shoulder as she strutted back up the hill toward the bonfire.
Ruby Grace
My first thought was that my skirt was too short.
It was Sunday afternoon, and church had let out on a beautiful day where Dad had some time blocked off for his daughter being back in town. He’d insisted we go golfing — much to his delight and my disdain — and so here we were at the Stratford Country Club golf course.
The Stratford Country Club golf course only existed because Dad had insisted the town needed a proper country club back when he was running for his first term as mayor. He’d worked with the wealthiest families in the town to bring it to life, and then they’d made the requirements to get in so specific and the spots available so limited that it was pretty much just a place for him and his friends to hang out and play golf.
Daddy was lining up his shot on the fourth hole, his pot belly stretching the light pink fabric of his polo as he tightened his grip on the club. He’d picked that shirt so he could match me — a daddy-daughter-duo. Dad was a big man, standing six-foot-three and close to two-hundred-and-fifty pounds. He had a smile that took up his entire face — one that Mama called his “mega-watt” smile. She swore it was how he won elections.
I favored my mother, but I did have my dad’s hazel eyes.
It was a gorgeous day, mid-seventies with big, puffy white clouds rolling over us, giving us a brief reprieve from the sun before it’d beat down on us again. For all intents and purposes, it was the perfect day to be on the course.
But, I hated golf.
I respected it for the tradition it had in the sports world, and I figured that, had I been raised differently, I might have found joy in watching it or playing from time to time. But, as it was, Daddy had taught me as soon as I could hold a golf club that business deals were made on golf courses, and I needed a strong game to represent the family — especially once I was a politician’s wife.
Or, a politician myself — which Daddy had said he’d have been just fine with, too.
So, golf for me had always been a chore. It started with the pressure of learning, then, the pressure to be good. And once I’d achieved that, once I could hold my own with Dad and his buddies on the course? Well, by that time I was just so tired of golf I didn’t want to be there at all.
I hated golf.
But, I loved my dad.
So, when he’d asked me to spend the afternoon with him, I was excited — even if it was to play golf. Daddy was always busy, running around the town of Stratford and making sure every wheel and axle was in place. Any time I could steal him for more than a twenty-minute conversation at dinner, I was thrilled.
“How come your ears are steaming over there when I’m the one lining up a shot?” Dad asked, glancing at me with