Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
“Maybe someday you will, if you want to,” Priyam says, giving a simple reply to a complicated question.
“Maybe someday, indeed. For now, got any pics of your grandkids?”
Priyam whips out his phone and takes us through a camera roll of his family. Zane and I lean in close on either side of our lunch guest.
“Check it out,” Zane says, pointing to a pic of a grade-schooler in a lamplighter costume. “Mary Poppins?”
“Yes. That’s Chandra. They did a gender-bending Mary Poppins, and she played the lamplighter.”
“Sweet. Bet that was an awesome show,” Zane says.
“I’m not impartial, but I gave it a standing ovation,” Priyam says, with obvious pride.
As they chat, a sense of calm flows through me. Zane is so great with this guy, and it doesn’t feel like he’s acting the part to win the deal. Of course, he wants the partnership. I know that. But his way with people is all natural and hard to fake.
When lunch ends, we head to the golf course, setting our bags in the back of a cart.
“I have one rule,” Priyam says as he stares up at the first baseman, who’s half a foot taller and easily has seventy pounds on him.
“Hit me up,” Zane says affably.
“Don’t go easy on me. If I sense that you’re going easy on me, I will be very upset,” Priyam says in a friendly warning.
Zane laughs. “It’s not in my nature to go easy in a sport,” he reassures the Londoner.
Priyam nods, pleased, then he pats the back of the golf cart. “Great. Then we should wager. How about the winner gets treated to dinner if you’re in New York before I head back to London?”
I fight off a grin. If Priyam is hinting at dinner in the future, that’s a damn good sign. I steal a glimpse at Zane, and he’s reining in a smile too.
The British man adopts a devilish grin. “Now would be a good time to let you know I competed in golf at uni.”
“Ah, so you’re planning on taking us for all we’re worth,” I put in.
Priyam’s brown eyes dance with mischief. “But of course.”
“I bet Maddox schools us all. I have a feeling he’s one of those secret golf pros,” Zane says, then winks at me. Not a revealing wink—a client wink—and I love that he knows which one to give in public. “You’re on, Priyam. I’ll even bring my purple bow tie to New York.”
“Let’s make bow ties a thing,” Priyam says, sounding so delighted with Zane that I mentally pump a fist. If all goes well, perhaps I can close this deal today.
I get behind the cart’s wheel, and they hop in too. Priyam tosses a glance back at Zane. “Did I mention it was mini golf I played?”
Zane laughs, then pats Priyam’s shoulder. “I’m still expecting you to win big time, even if there aren’t clowns or windmills on the course.”
I’m in the lead, Priyam’s right behind me, and Zane is caboosing his way through the course. But on the sixth hole, Priyam’s phone rings. After he checks the screen, he turns to us. “I’m so sorry. That’s my daughter,” he says, then excuses himself to walk away several feet, out of earshot.
Zane shoots me an expectant look, five-iron in hand. “It’s going well, right?”
I want to clap him on the shoulder and reassure him, but I resist touching him. “You’re doing great,” I say.
“He’s a fun guy. Sharp sense of humor. Like you,” Zane says.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t develop a crush on him,” I tease, feeling safe enough with company nearby but out of earshot.
Zane’s quiet, looking like he’s working something out in his head. Eventually, he squares his shoulders and breathes out hard, as if girding himself for something dangerous. “I won’t. Besides,” he says, “I’m pretty single-minded with my crushes these days.”
Oh, hell.
Electricity crackles in my chest. I don’t give in and say, Me too, but I’m sure all my feelings are written on my face.
I manage to rasp out a strangled, “Is that so?”
“Yup,” he says, his eyes not leaving me as he deals me one of his stomach-flipping bedroom stares. “Just this one sexy, smart, savvy guy.”
My temperature shoots to the sky, frying my restraint. I want to step closer to Zane, whisper same here.
But I hear Priyam say goodbye—a clear reminder I can’t play this dangerous game with others around. I shouldn’t play it at all.
The third in our trio strides back to us over the grassy knoll, folding his hands together in apology. “I’m so sorry. My granddaughter is having a crisis.”
“What’s wrong?” Zane asks, concerned.
“Apparently, Chandra’s no longer playing a goblin in her school play. She’s playing the wizard. It’s the lead, and she wants to run lines with me. I was a theater kid,” he says with an apologetic smile. “She says Pop-pop is the only one who can help. She’s already dramatic,” he says with so much delight.