Page 139 of Unexpected Shot
This is the first one that truly counts. The first tournament of the year where a win will cement you as one of the greats to play the game. Winning here means something. The course is historic. Your name gets etched in a winner’s only locker room. You get a special jacket that carries just as much prestige as championship trophies in team sports. The tournament opens with a black-tie gala that’s harder to get a ticket to than game seven of the World Series.
And it’s one of the majors I’ve yet to win.
I have two under my belt, and for most players, that’s more than they could ever hope for in a lifetime. But I’m me, and since I first knew what majors were in golf, my goal has been to win them all. A career grand slam. A feat fewer than ten golfers in the history of the sport have ever achieved.
I know I’ve talked with Shelby about giving the sport up, and have let the thought circle my brain more than it probably should. But at the end of the day, I know I’ll never give up until Iwin here. And at that point, if I already have three, I’m going for the fourth and final.
Then maybe I’ll consider hanging up my golf polos for a life of social media work. Hell, maybe by that time, Shelby and I will have some kids. Stay-at-home dad Beau does have a certain appeal to it. Unless Shelby doesn’t want kids. And in that case, we won’t—because what she says goes.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“If I haven’t said it before now, this is a good time to remind you that I do, in fact, hate you.” Shelby’s voice carries in from the bathroom of our hotel suite.
I chuckle as I finish fastening the cufflinks of my tuxedo. “And why, dear wife, do you hate me today?”
She storms into the bedroom, looking eight different ways of pissed but ten different ways of sexy.
“Holy fuck, Belle…” I eye Shelby up and down, and I don’t try to hide it. “You look stunning.”
I feel the drool dripping down my chin as I stare at my wife in a skintight, black, silk, strapless dress. I don’t know what kind of lingerie she’s wearing, but it’s pushing her tits up so high I’m slightly concerned about a wardrobe malfunction.
“I look ridiculous.”
“Shut your mouth,” I say as I walk toward her, reaching for her hand to bring her closer. “I have never seen anyone more beautiful in my life.”
She lets out a defeated sigh as I drag my fingertips up and down her bare arms. “I can’t get this damn jewelry on. I can’t breathe. And my boobs are going to pop out.”
“I’m not complaining about that last one,” I say as I kiss her shoulder. “Unless it happens in front of the old asshole members and they start staring. Then there will be a problem.”
She knows it was a joke. I knew I’d get her “don’t you dare” look.
Worth it.
“Come here,” I take her hand and walk with her to thedresser where the diamond bracelet and necklace are still waiting in their velvet boxes. I know Kat was behind this entire look, right down to the jewelry. Note to self: send her the biggest bonus and thank you card when we’re back in Nashville. “I know you’ve always had to put these things on by yourself. But now, you lucky dog, you have me. Let’s do the bracelet first.”
I take the diamonds in my fingers and bring up her wrist, leaning in a little closer to clasp the piece together. "You know, I get why you think you have to do things like this alone. Things like bracelets, necklaces, zippers. Even my cufflinks. They're a necessary evil, but a true pain in the ass when you're doing it alone.”
I kiss the inside of her wrist before I turn her around, letting us both face the vanity mirror. I’ve never wanted to freeze a moment so badly. Shelby’s hair is down and draping over one shoulder, styled in perfect, loose waves that I know look effortless but took the stylist she hired three hours to get exactly right. The makeup she’s wearing—also done by a talented artist, because my wife is many things, but skilled with makeup isn’t one of them—is understated and natural, but also somehow elevates her. I don’t know if she’s ever looked more beautiful in her life.
And she’s mine. She’s all fucking mine.
“But now you have me,” I say as I bring the diamonds around her neck. “And neither of us has to do things alone. Ever again.”
I make sure the clasp is secured, then place a lazy kiss on her shoulder. “Also included in that list of things I can help with is unzipping dresses.”
She shakes her head, and I sneak in one more kiss before she turns to face me.
“Are you sure I don’t look like I’m trying to play dress up?” she asks, her fingers toying with the lapel of my jacket. “And don’t give me this ‘you’re beautiful because you’re my wife’ crap. Be serious.”
“I promise you on my mother’s and Ace’s lives, you look gorgeous. You’re going to turn every head when you walk in there.” I hold my hand up to cut off the protest I know she’s about to make. “And it’s not because they think you’re cosplaying as a model, it’s because you could pass for one with no questions asked.”
She starts to say something again, and since I have a feeling she’ll be angling for the argument about how she’s an athlete, and she shouldn’t need to dress up like this, I put my finger over her mouth to shut that shit down right now. One of these days, she will accept and understand that she can be both. All. Everything. Until then, I have no problem reminding her.
“When people see you like this—strong, confident, feminine, but in the best and most fierce way—it’s not going to make people less scared of you. It's not going to make you less of a golfer. If anything, it completes the package. Enhances it. Because now they're really going to see what a force you are to be reckoned with in every single aspect in life. And that, Shelby? That’s the true power.”
She lets out a breath as she leans in to kiss my cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I offer her my arm. “Shall we?”
