The Perfect Stroke (Lucas Brothers #1)(4)

I drop down on the creeper. “I doubt it’s the pie you’re interested in.”

“Being around us men your whole life has destroyed you.”

“Whatever. It’s Monday, so make sure you bring me back the meatloaf platter.”

“Got it. Be back shortly,” he calls, but I can barely hear him over the loud roar of the air compressor and impact wrench in my hand.

Another day, another dollar.





“Will you give it a rest, Seth? I told you I’m here. I’ll play nice. I’ll even put up with Cammie.”

“You need Riverton Metals on board for this tour, Grayson—especially since Raver Athletics pulled out.”

“They’re idiots.”

“No, they’re a multimillion-dollar company that can’t afford to have their name linked with a golf pro who is more famous for his hard drive into a tour official’s daughter than driving the ball into the hole.”

“Whatever. They’d be crazy to keep me out of the tour over that shit and you know it. My name brings in the fans.”

“So do others. You’re cutting your own throat here, Gray.”

“Driving into Rachelle’s hole was more fun.”

“Her name was Michelle.”

“Close enough.” Honestly, I barely remember the girl. I was drunk as a skunk and the only brain working at the time was the one in my dick—a dick that got the workout of its dreams this past weekend, a dick that misses a certain redhead today. It was a damn good weekend, and if CC hadn’t been gone when I woke up Sunday morning, I would have tried my best to make it last for another couple of days. Cammie Riverton and her father could wait for all I care. I get that Seth is trying to help me out here, but I could give a damn. I might need Riverton's name to get me back on the good side of the officials, but unlike other sports, as a member of the league, I'm an independent contractor. I decide what matches I want to do and where I will appear. I oversee my own damn self. And that would be great, except being blackballed by the higher-ups means they push my entry into tournaments below everyone else, which in short results in filled-up courses and me out in the cold. So I'm trying here when what I really want to do is tell everyone to kiss my ass. I've never been good at towing the line; my mother could more than attest for that.

“My advice is to play nice and get this contract with Riverton and his support under our belts. Without it, you’re not going to get half the publicity as the other pros on tour and you want that green jacket, even if you do try to deny it.”

“Who gets that jacket has more to do with—”

“You and I both know that you can be the best player out there, but if you don’t get the publicity, the powers that be will make it hard on you in every way they can.”

I sigh. “Whatever. I said I’m doing it. I’m in this small Kentucky town now. Have no idea what time I’ll get to Riverton’s, though.”

“Can’t you just punch it in—?”

“Hell, some of these roads aren’t even showing up on my GPS. I swear, Seth, earlier I came through a town called * Holler.”

“Sounds like you should live there.”

“You got jokes. Fuck!”

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s wrong with my car.”

“Wrong? What happened? I told you to fly out there.”

“I don’t know. It just died. No warning or anything,” I tell him, coasting to the side of the road. “The dash lights and things are on, but it won’t hit a lick. Maybe a starter or something. I told you I’m not flying into a place where they only accept tinker-toy planes. That’s not happening.”

“I’m no mechanic, but since you already had it started and driving when it died, that doesn’t sound like it,” Seth says sarcastically.

“Fine, then. Alternator or something. I don’t know,” I grumble. I look out the windshield and can see a garage about twenty feet in front of me. That, at least, is a stroke of luck.

“You need me to locate a tow service?” Seth asks.

“No. I see a garage up the street here. Claude’s Garage. If you don’t hear from me in an hour, call the cops.”

“Oh, will you stop? It’s not like I sent you to the town where Deliverance was filmed.”

“If I hear dueling banjos, just know I’m coming back to haunt your ass Seth.”

“Yeah, yeah, check in in an hour and try to keep your pants zipped up. I know it will be hard for you.”

“You said hard,” I joke, breathing a little easier when I walk towards the garage. It looks normal. Hopefully I won’t die at the hands of some Norman-Bates-wanna-be-grease-monkey.

“Fuck off,” Seth says before disconnecting the call. I click off my phone, stow it in my pocket, and walk the rest of the way to the garage. Blue would have a freaking ball laughing at me right now. Suddenly all those times I made fun of him for taking mechanic class instead of co-ed PE seem less amusing. Then I think of how grumpy Blue seems to be all the time and immediately nix the idea. Hell, if mom hadn’t caught him with Sara Jane in the barn loft when we were kids, I’d think the man was still a virgin. I should have brought the Caddy, but honestly my Tahoe reminds me of home and I’d never admit it to my brothers or my meddlesome mother, but I miss Texas.