Fangirl Down: A Novel (Big Shots Book 1)

Josephine opened her eyes and stared at the outstretched man hand resting on her pillow. Perhaps it was her vigorously satisfied libido talking, but my goodness, that was the most beautiful hand she’d ever laid eyes on. Had it been sculpted by Bernini? Blunt fingernails and calluses and color from the sun. It was attached to the firm biceps beneath her cheek and she had the urge to sit up and study the rest of him, but that would require moving and that wasn’t happening. Not yet.

The steady in and out of Wells’s breath sifted through her hair and warmed the nape of her neck, every inch of his contoured chest rising and falling against her back. Their legs were tangled together, her bare butt tucked into his lap—and while the rest of Wells was asleep, there was a certain part of him that was wide awake.

Josephine was torn between the urge to rub her backside against him, to tempt him into a replay of what they’d done last night—and never moving again. Ever. Why wouldn’t she lie there in the hazy dawn light as long as possible with someone she’d fallen for? If missing him horribly for a week hadn’t been enough to convince her that Wells had wiggled his way under her skin, yesterday would have done it.

You have no idea what it’s like to miss you, baby.

This human being had kicked down her door, both literally and metaphorically.

She’d never seen him coming. Not like this. Perhaps because she’d known him first as a celebrity, not a real person, the way she did now. How could she have known he would balance her like he’d been born for the job? Respect, challenge, arouse, and protect her, all at once. Make her feel passionate enough to fight and laugh in the same breath.

What was she going to do about him?

The screen of Josephine’s phone lit up on the nightstand. Probably an alert from her glucose monitor, but she reached out anyway, careful not to move from her position against a sleeping Wells. Her breath caught when she looked at the screen, however, because it was not her monitor going off, it was an alert from her checking account.

The sponsorship money from Under Armour had landed.

The high five-figure amount was substantial, but not quite enough to cover the dream renovation. She’d reluctantly spoken with her parents about fronting the rest of the cost until their disaster relief funds came in—or Wells won big, and she received her cut. Whichever came first. Which meant that she could give the contractor the green light to make all of the improvements to the Golden Tee, effective immediately. He’d given her a two-week timeline and then the shop would be ready to stock with inventory. Shortly after that, it would be up and running again. But where would that leave her and Wells? Would she just . . . pass off her responsibilities to another caddie and go back to watching him on television?

They’d entered into this arrangement knowing it was temporary, but that was before . . . well, before. The former number one golfer in the world was asleep in her bed and he’d made it very clear he didn’t want to take any more breaks. If Josephine was being honest with herself, she didn’t relish the idea of spending long periods away from Wells, either. But her lifeblood, her family legacy, her heart, was here in Palm Beach and she couldn’t ignore the Golden Tee forever. Furthermore, she didn’t want to.

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, Josephine made the painful decision to disentangle herself from Wells and slide out of bed, releasing a breath when he grumbled in his throat. But he just rolled over in a bare-chested sprawl and went back to snoring quietly, his morning wood very prominently tenting the sheet.

The fluttering sensation in her rib cage was so intense, she had to turn away from the big, gorgeous sight of him and his sleep-mussed hair or she would never do what needed to be done. After putting on her robe and closing the bedroom door without a sound, Josephine made a cup of coffee, fortified herself with a few sips, and called the contractor.

Ignoring the dread in her belly, she gave him the thumbs-up to begin the work, effectively starting the countdown clock on her time caddying for Wells.

What other choice did she have? They had to pay rent to the club. A course needed a shop. Sure, they understood that the Golden Tee needed to rebuild after the hurricane, but they would eventually begin expecting monthly payments. Life moved on and it moved fast.

The coffee cup was halfway to Josephine’s lips when a very familiar sound greeted her ears—the back and forth of her parents’ bickering. And that sound was moving down the hallway toward her apartment door.

Dread pulsed in her stomach for an entirely different reason now.

She’d forgotten about brunch. They were there to pick her up for an early birthday celebration, because she was going to be in California on Wednesday, when she officially turned twenty-seven. They were not going to find their daughter ready for fancy eggs and mimosas; however, they were going to find her looking like she’d tossed a man’s salad in the shower, before getting manhandled in a way that had probably taken the bounce out of several mattress springs. Which was all gloriously true.

She’d had stupefyingly good sex with a man who was still in her bed. Fully naked. And her apartment wasn’t large by any stretch of the imagination, so the muffled snores of her boss/lover could be heard clear to the kitchen if one listened hard enough. Not ideal. This was incredibly not ideal.

I got this.

I can handle this.

If I can handle Wells’s temper on the golf course, two retirees should be a piece of cake.

Wishful thinking, but okay.

They were knocking now. This was happening.

Josephine tightened the belt of her robe and gathered her hair into a knot, securing it with a stray hairband from her junk drawer. She took a deep breath, wished herself luck, and opened the door—

It promptly sagged on its hinges, thudding loudly on the floor. Damn.

She smiled brightly. “Good morning!”

“Josephine!” her mother sputtered. “What happened to the door?”

“Well.” Think. Think! “Yesterday, while I was out. At the store buying goods.” Goods? Have you been transported back to colonial times? “Someone in the building called in the smell of gas. So the fire department showed up and since I wasn’t home, they had to barge in. It was a whole thing.”

“The landlord doesn’t have your key?” asked Jim.

“He was also at the store. Yup. I saw him there. Buying . . . goods.”

This was why Josephine never lied. She was as translucent as a window. Both of her parents were staring at her as if homemade pasta noodles were oozing from her ears.

“Anyway, come in, come in.” She ushered them through the doorway, corralling them in the direction of the small living room, snatching up the remote, and turning the volume on the television way up to drown out the snoring. “I’m sorry. I slept late, but I’ll just throw on some clothes and we’ll go. Give me five minutes.”

Her father looked at his watch while reluctantly parking himself on the couch, along with his wife. “But the reservation is for ten o’clock.”

Josephine groaned inwardly. Who had brunch at ten A.M.? “They’ll give us a grace period. Also, no one is going to be there this early.”

Jim did a double take. “Early? I’ve been up since five!”

“I’m going to get dressed. I’ll get ready as fast as I can.”

Josephine spun out of the living area, intending to wake up Wells and quickly explain the awkward situation while putting on some clothes—

Wells walked out of the hallway in a pair of white boxer briefs.

Never mind the incredible things they did for his godlike thighs—and almost definitely, his rear, though she didn’t have the right angle, sadly—he was out in the open now. In full view of the living room. But at a glance, Josephine could see that Wells was still half asleep, a big dopey-smiled lion on the prowl . . . and quite unaware that her parents were sitting on her couch in the living room.

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have scooped her up by the butt and planted a kiss on her mouth that was intimate and full of sensual promise. And tongue. Also known as the kind of kiss a girl never, ever wanted her parents to witness.

“Wells—” she gasped, pulling away. Attempting to set her feet back on the ground.

“The robe has got to go.” He nipped at her neck. “I’m taking you back to bed, belle.”

She grabbed the sides of his face and turned his head toward the living room.

“Oh.” He put Josephine down but kept her close. As in, plastered up against his front. For obvious reasons, namely his erection—rather than saluting the whole room with it. “Fuck.”

“Yup.”

Her parents gaped at them to the soundtrack of the Today show.

“Jim and Evelyn. It’s nice to finally meet you in person.” Wells sounded surprisingly calm for someone trying to hide morning wood. “I’ll just . . .”

“We’ll just . . .”

Josephine and Wells started an awkward backward shuffle toward her bedroom. Why Josephine felt it necessary to throw in a polite wave, she’d never know. “This is sort of like . . . a team-building exercise,” she called over her shoulder. “Like a trust fall, but we’re moving as one entity. In the interest of golfer-caddie bonding—”

“You’re fooling no one,” Wells interrupted.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered furiously. “And seriously? It hasn’t softened at all yet?”

He winked at her. “That’s right, baby.”

Josephine gave him a disappointed look. Or she tried to, anyway. A smile threatened to ruin the reproof. They were in the hallway now—and out of sight—so they ceased their shuffling and entered the half-dark bedroom together with twin lunges, closing the door.

“Which part can’t you believe is happening?” Wells wanted to know. “Just out of curiosity.”

“My parents aren’t supposed to be aware I have sex!”

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s . . . fucking ridiculous, Josephine.”

She waved her hands. “I mean, they probably know on some level, but I’m not supposed to just . . . rip off their blinders like that.”

Wells framed her jaw in his hand, tilting her face up. “Just to be clear, you’re upset that they caught you with a male houseguest. Period. Not that it’s . . . me?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” He exhaled sharply. “We didn’t really have a chance to talk about this last night, since we were otherwise occupied. But my assumption is that you want to keep our relationship quiet.” Was it her imagination or did he look slightly worried. Exposed. “Does that mean from your parents, too?”

She was still stuck on the word he’d used previously. “Relationship?”

It took a full two seconds for his right eyebrow to reach its highest peak. “Was it not clear that we’re in a relationship?”

“I-I mean . . . not abundantly.”

His jawline ticked. “I don’t miss people to the point of torment, Josephine. And I don’t spend the night with women, waking up every couple of hours to convince myself they’re not a dream. I do both of those things with you like it’s my job. And a lot of other annoying things I’m not willing to admit yet, but they involve planning trips to Bath and Body Works and wondering if Wellsophine is a viable ship name.” He slapped a hand down on the door above her head and leaned down until their noses were almost touching. “I was very happy being alone until you showed up. You’ve ruined me.”

Her heart galloped in her chest. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. I love being ruined by you. Bring it the fuck on.” He kissed Josephine hard, slanting his mouth across hers and licking deep, his fingers sliding up into her hair and fisting. “We can be a secret for now. I understand your reasons. But don’t ask me if we’re in a relationship when I can barely think straight around you.”

“We’re in a relationship,” she whispered against his mouth. “Of course we are.”

He let out an uneven exhale into her hair. “Good girl. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to go spend some quality fucking time with my girlfriend’s parents. Sound good?”

Swallowing proved impossible.

Oh God. She’d already admitted to herself that she’d fallen for this man, but her feelings were veering closer and closer toward love.

Let yourself fall. Just let go and take the dive.

That’s what Josephine’s heart compelled her to do. So what was holding her back from plunging down without a harness into the wind? Nothing.

Except the not-so-distant future when she’d have to put Wells’s interests aside and focus on her own.

She trusted this man. More than she trusted anyone besides her parents and Tallulah. But she wasn’t sure she trusted him to let her go so easily.

For now, though, she would let go, just a little more, and see where the wind blew her.

What choice did she have when Wells was looking at her like his next breath hinged on her answer? “Quality time sounds amazing.”