All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Twenty-One

        We headed out early the next morning, after a lovely breakfast of omelets and sausage that Laura had coordinated. Then she packed Mr. Answell, Grayson, Clay, and me into the car and we went to the golf course. The golf course that apparently, Mr. Answell owned. That was my first surprise of the day.

        "I'm the one that convinced him to put hot pink rims on all the golf carts," Clay boasted, his feet up on the dashboard. Stupid boy had called shotgun.

        "Turned out to be a great financial choice; everyone knows who we are and it drums up business," Mr. Answell said, smiling at his younger son. I definitely didn't miss the soft glow of pride blooming on Clay's face–he was an entirely different person when his father was around instead of his mother.

        Meanwhile, the backseat was making me nauseous. Grayson sat on the left, gently holding my hand, while I sat numbly on the right, watching the trees race by at a sickening rate. The car was so fancy, so totally luxurious that I didn't even know how to roll down the windows should I need to puke. I considered asking Grayson how to do it, but opening my mouth would have resulted in catastrophe.

        Kylie and Nina had been invited, but they'd declined, since Nina apparently had work to do for the bookstore and Kylie...Kylie didn't really have a reason, other than the one she'd whispered to me on the way out: she wanted Grayson and I to have 'alone time.' I tried telling her that having his dad and brother around was not exactly alone, but she seemed set in her reasoning.

        "Welcome to Answell Acres, Jackie," Clay announced as we turned down a paved driveway. "Home to Clay's pink rims and some random guys with golf balls and clubs."

        "Should we put that on the sign out front?" Mr. Answell joked. 

        "Obviously." Clay's good mood was almost enough to put me in a good mood. Almost.

        Grayson squeezed my fingers, murmuring, "I'm right here, Jacks."

        I nodded and queasily emerged from the car, inhaling the scent of fresh-cut grass and Clay's overpowering cologne that reminded me of the seaside. I followed Grayson into the huge white clubhouse, feeling very out of place among the iron lanterns hanging on the walls and the plush red carpet. It might as well have been a movie set for the early 2000's rom-com where the country girl swaps places with the rich girl and falls in love on the adventure.

        "Had a set special-ordered for you," Grayson said, entering a long room with huge oak cabinets. He opened one and pulled out a tall bag filled with clubs, along with a set of golf balls and even a cute pink jacket.

        I gave him a look, but he was too fast in giving me a counterlook. "Don't worry about the cost, okay? It's pretty much my job to spoil you."

        "I just sometimes wish I could be the one to give you something," I complained, following him outside. "But I can't, because you have everything."

        "I have a very good feeling you'll be able to give me something I don't have someday," Grayson said with a smile, giving off an unexpected air of mystery. Where had that come from?

        We rode out to the greens on a golf cart. Mr. Answell made the mistake of allowing Clay to drive. The young maniac floored it and we went shooting over the hills, skidding dangerously close to several small ponds and even careening under a sprinkler. Clay was overjoyed. The rest of us, not so much.

       "Okay! First hole! Who's ready?" Clay grinned as he pulled out one of his own clubs and stepped up to the tee.

        "Small lesson for you while Clay tries to whack Dad's head off his neck," Grayson decided, leading us a few feet away and out of the danger zone.