just as spoiled and arrogant as Tiger and my mom have accused me of being. “Fuuuck.”
“What’s that?” James sticks his head into the kitchen.
I wave him off. “Nothing. I’m a fool.”
“Yeah, you are.”
“Seriously, do any of you know how to coddle a professional athlete?”
“Not one little bit. You should probably apologize.”
“I will.” My hands go to my hips, and I drop my head. “Any suggestions?”
“Treat her like the amazing person she is, and don’t bullshit her.”
I raise my head and meet his dark eyes. This man is not a fan of mine, but he has plenty of reasons not to be. “I will.”
He nods. “Good.”
I watch him stalk back up the stairs and struggle to find a place for all of my emotions. No one has ever done anything like this for me before, and instead of being grateful or letting her explain, I acted like a dick.
I head to the pool house to try and make this right. It’s still early, and a low fog hovers close to the ground in the yard beyond the patio. The flowers I sent are still on the café table and look a little worse for wear. They’re another reminder of what an absolute ass I’ve been to her.
I raise my fist to knock and notice my hand is trembling slightly. I face 350-pound defensive linemen, all out for my head, for sixteen weeks a year, and this slip of a woman’s the one who’s got my hands shaking.
It’s not that I’m too proud to say I’m sorry, it’s that I don’t know if she’ll accept my apology or throw it in my face. I deserve the latter. I’ve got a pattern of assuming the worst of her.
I extend and flex my fingers, then make a fist again and knock.
“Who is it?” Her voice is muffled through the door.
“Cash.”
“If this is about the house, then James or Donny can answer your question.”
“It’s not about the house.”
The volume on the TV grows louder, and I know there’s no way she can hear me if I yell.
Another knock, and the volume increases.
Damn it. I make my way around the front of the building to the big picture windows that look out on the lawn below. The curtains are open, so I stand in front of the windows until she notices me.
She slowly rises and comes to the window, a bit of wonder in her eyes.
That’s right, sweetheart. I didn’t get to be a Super Bowl MVP by giving up easily.
I push the button for her number on my phone and bring it to my ear.
She glances at her phone screen, then to me.
I smile.
She smiles.
Then she grabs both sides of the curtains and yanks them shut.
Leaving me standing in the fog with my phone and my ass in my hand.
Twenty-Six
Tiger
I swear that grin of Cash’s should be certified as a dirty weapon. And how dare he flash it after how he’s treated me? I need time away from him. Maybe I should rent a hotel room.
My phone rings again. I ignore the call without looking at the screen.
Then a text comes through. It’s from Cash.
I was a jerk, a dick, and a complete ass. Please let me apologize in person.
I move to the entrance of my safe place. Never has a man sincerely apologized to me for anything without a qualifier. So, this I’ve got to see.
He’s standing there when I swing open the door, big hands splayed across his hip bones, head hanging between his shoulders. After a moment, he peers up at me from under his bangs. The raw shame in his eyes is a physical thing, but I’m not ready to let him off the hook.
We stand and stare at each other for several long seconds. One hand on the door and the other on my hip, I’m not going to make this easy for him.
“Can I come in?”
I step back and hold my hand toward the inside of the house.
“Thanks.” His steps are slow and measured like he might have to defend his life at any moment.
Smart man.
I close the door but don’t move away from it. My arms go across my chest on their own. I’m really not trying to be a bitch, but I’ve been conned by the best. I know that people can appear sorry one minute and cut you to the core the next. “Well?”
“I’m sorry.”
That’s it? My brows raise when that’s all he says.
He rubs the toe of his running shoe on the rug. “I was