“You okay over there?” Tallulah asked, perceptive as ever.
“More than okay,” Josephine assured her.
“Good, because I’m going to need every scintillating detail of this Wells Whitaker partnership. Don’t even think about telling me you’re just his caddie. You are more than qualified, but a dude doesn’t track down your best friend and fly her to California from Antarctica unless romance is afoot.” She tilted her head back and squealed. “Oh crap, you’re already blushing! I’m going to flash a mounted policeman, I’m so excited.”
“I’ll never live that down.”
“Nope.”
Once again, moisture flooded Josephine’s eyes out of pure happiness to be sitting next to her best friend. “Wells is . . .” She tried to search for the words that would adequately describe the waterfall of emotion in her chest when she thought of the temperamental golfer. “Well, he’s my boyfriend and friend. We balance each other. I smooth out his rough edges and he makes me feel . . . stronger and more capable than I’ve ever felt. Ever. He respects me. Look what he did, flying you here. He’s thoughtful. And he’s so mean, but in a way that I love? Because that’s normal.”
Tallulah sighed gustily. “More. I need more.”
“The sex is unparalleled,” Josephine whispered.
Her best friend folded her hands and bowed her head, as if deep in prayer. “That’s what I’m talking about. Continue.”
“He’s rough with me. No one has ever been rough with me.”
“That’s what you want, right?”
“Yes.” She squeezed Tallulah’s forearm to reassure her. “Apparently, it’s what I’ve needed without realizing it. I’m not fragile. He reminds me of that, but somehow . . . I know if I wanted to have a fragile moment, he’d just whip out some glue and fill in the cracks.”
“It sounds like he’s been whipping out a lot of things,” Tallulah deadpanned.
“I’m not complaining. Clothes are stupid.”
“So stupid. Josephine.” Tallulah turned, taking Josephine by the shoulders and shaking her. “Holy hell. You’re caddying on the PGA Tour.”
“You already said that,” she laughed.
“It deserves to be said again.” She dragged Josephine back into a hug and she went willingly, sighing into her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so proud of you. Not only because you’re finally getting recognized for your talent. But because you’re getting that sweet, sweet golfer dick.”
“It’s the opposite of sweet. It’s like . . . monstrous—”
“Careful, you’ve got a sexually neglected future marine biologist on your hands.”
“Fine, it’s sweet.”
“Liar.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Me too, Joey. Now, I’ve been eating MREs for months. Someone take me to get some real food! And tequila. In that order.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Wells was in the middle of a press conference when he saw Josephine step quietly into the press tent out of the corner of his eye. His hand shot out involuntarily and knocked over one of the dozens of microphones in his face, sending a peal of feedback through the tent.
She tucked some hair behind her ear and smiled at him, and his concentration leaked straight out of his nose. Was that a new blue dress she was wearing? Josephine probably had a lot of items in her wardrobe he’d never seen before and that fact might have annoyed the shit out of him—a lot like this press conference—if his girlfriend hadn’t been making moon eyes at him.
Last night, after getting confirmation from the limousine driver that Josephine had connected with Tallulah, he’d relaxed. Briefly. Then he’d gone for a walk through the lobby of the resort, on the off chance he’d catch a glimpse of Josephine. Sure enough, he’d seen her in the cocktail lounge looking so happy, he’d stood there grinning through the glass like a bozo, before eventually tearing himself away and going back to his room.
This was the first time he’d seen her in three days.
Which was not that long. But it might as well have been a decade.
Honestly, did she have any fucking clue how beautiful she was?
Beautiful and smart and adaptable and funny and adventurous. He could have sat there for a week listing her attributes, but the clearing of a throat into a microphone lassoed Wells, rudely pulling him back to the here and now.
“How did the practice round go, Wells?”