“Yeah, I’ll update your training plan sometime today. I have a few meetings first.”
“Okay.”
A beat of awkwardness plays out between us before he strides forward and places a hand at my hip. The warmth and strength of his grip makes my breath catch. I want to go back to twenty minutes ago when we were in bed, every inch of my body touching him in some way, and stay there all day.
“What do you think about doing the sectional qualifier in April?”
“You mean the Open qualifier?” My voice quivers with excitement or maybe disbelief.
“Yeah.” He pulls me against him. “That gives us a couple of months to work your swing out, and then you can go show everyone what you’re capable of.”
“You think I’m ready?” I hate the way my voice wavers with my lack of confidence.
“I think I’ll make sure you are. You might hate me again. It’s going to mean working twice as hard as before. More running and weights and—”
I stop him by pushing up onto my tiptoes and kissing him. When I step back, the excitement in his eyes matches mine. “Bring it on.”
22
Keira
We have a rare day off practice Tuesday, so I use the time to check on Dad. Over a sausage pizza, he grills me about the tournament.
Normally I’d be all too eager to talk golf, but I’m blushing and squirming in my seat as if Dad can tell by looking at me that I spent the night with my hottie swing coach. So, I give him a lightning speed overview and then ask about his scheduled doctor appointments and physical therapy this week.
He should be cleared to drive at this appointment, and I’m both looking forward to him regaining his independence and already missing the time together.
Dad retires to his chair and puts on the game, so I take that as my cue to head back to the dorm.
“Hey you.” I nearly run into Abby as she opens the door to our dorm before I can.
“Hey.” She smiles and backtracks into the room.
“Headed to Smiths?”
“Study group then Smith’s.” She points to a box next to my bed. “That came for you.”
“To the room?”
“Yeah, they brought it straight up because it was taking up too much space in the mail area downstairs.” She raises a brow and looks to me, expecting answers. “What in the world did you order?”
“I didn’t.” I try to lift the box, but it’s heavy. Really heavy.
“All right, well the suspense is killing me, but I have to go.” Abby heads to the door. “Text me later.”
“I will. Bye,” I call over my shoulder as I search for my scissors.
Once I find them, I sit on the floor next to the box, cut the tape, and peel back the flaps. I find a piece of plain, white copy paper on top.
For your dorm. Let me know if you need anything else.
Lincoln
I set his note on the floor and dig through the contents of the box. Foam golf balls, a chipping net, a hitting net, a small putting mat, and a much larger hitting mat. A nice one. It’s way nicer than the one at my dad’s. There’s even a pair of ear plugs that I’m guessing are supposed to be for Abby. He thought of everything, because of course he did.
He calls as I’m working on a new trick shot. I place the phone on my desk so I can show him before grabbing my wedge and a ball. “Prepare to be amazed.”
“What is it you’re trying to do exactly?” Lincoln asks, dark brows raised and a smirk on his lips. Those lips . . . now that I know what they feel like against mine, I can’t look at him without doing an instant replay of our make-out session.
“No look into the cup.”
“I can’t see the cup,” he says.
“It’s on the floor by the wall,” I say as I bounce the ball off the clubface and turn so that my back is to the cup. I tap it into the air, flip the club, and hit it over my shoulder. I turn in time to see the ball hit the rim of the cup and bounce away. “If you didn’t see it, I guess I can pretend that went in.”
The ball continues to bounce around the room noisily, and we both laugh.
“I just need a little more practice.” I grab the phone and my laptop. “You want me to log into the site?”
“Nah, it’s fine as long as I can see you. I’m reviewing the videos you sent this morning now.”
“Check out my new setup.” I angle the phone so he can see how I’ve pushed my and Abby’s beds farther apart and put the net between them. My mat is on the floor in the open space.
“I have just enough room to swing my club.” I move the phone again so I can show him where I put the putting mat and chipping net. “Thank you. This is ridiculous, but I love it.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Now that you have a decent setup in your room, I’m going to up the intensity.”
“Do your worst.”
Lincoln shakes his head and laughs before going back to analyzing my swing videos from earlier. “Swing looks pretty good. I see what you’re talking about with your arms not being at full extension past impact. Let me see it. Can you position the camera so I can see your swing from the front?”
I spend the next hour taking swings in my new makeshift training area while Lincoln coaches me. He tweaks and nitpicks, but he’s encouraging as he does it.
“We have our home tournament in two weeks.”
“Good. You could use another competition to work on playing under pressure.”
He’s in his living room. The computer sets in his lap, phone resting on the couch beside him. His brow’s furrow, legs are kicked up on the coffee table.
We finished our training session fifteen minutes ago, and he’s moved on to checking email while I force him into conversation. He is a willing, if a bit distracted, participant.
“Will you come?”
“Hmm?” He briefly glances at me and nods. “What days? Saturday and Sunday?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll try. I’m supposed to fly out to L.A. to watch Kenton play on Friday. My parents are coming in from New York, so I can’t skip it, but I’ll see if I can get a flight back Saturday.”
He says it casually, as if everyone jets off to amazing sporting events on the regular.
“Fair enough. I’d choose the Stars over me too.”
He sets his phone down on his thigh. “You like soccer?”
“It’s okay. My dad loves sports, so I spent a lot of time fighting over the television with him. Soccer and basketball I didn’t mind so much.”
“You guys ever been to a pro game? Soccer or basketball? Football?”
“No. My dad is pretty much a homebody. Always has been, but especially after the divorce and now that he’s injured—forget about it.”
He nods thoughtfully. “What does he do?”
“He is a roofer, but he’s on leave until they clear him to go back.”
We’re quiet for a moment, him on his computer and me thinking about my dad.
“How long was it after your divorce before you started dating again?”
Lincoln pauses, and his eyes meet mine.
I pull my unicorn scrunchie out of my hair and slide it onto my wrist before combing my fingers through the tangled strands. “It’s just that it’s been years since my parents split, and as far as I know, my dad hasn’t dated at all. I worry about him. When I graduate, he’s going to be all alone, eating frozen dinners and watching the game in his old chair.”
He rubs his jaw and sighs. “That sounds pretty good to me.” I think that’s all he’s going to say, but then he adds, “It was nine months, but to be honest, every date I’ve been on since has been a Gram setup. I am perfectly content to sit in my chair and eat meals by myself.”
“Really? Forever? Isn’t that, I dunno, lonely?”
“I don’t have time to be lonely. Plus, I have months of entertainment to look forward to with you while we get that swing of yours right.” He winks.
“You’ll never be lonely with me around.”
“Defini
tely not.”
Thursday night, Keith and I get permission from Professor Teague to do next week’s lab early since Keith is travelling with the boys’ team for a tournament in Texas and won’t be back for our Monday night class. I show up to lab with a Pop-Tart in one hand and an energy drink in the other, still sweaty from weight training. There’s another lab going on, but I find Keith set up in the back.
I fan my sticky shirt away from my body, and Keith gives me a questioning glance.
“Sorry, I came straight from the gym.”
“Your coach lets you eat junk like that?” He motions toward my dinner.
I know he means Potter, but I think of Lincoln. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, I had a protein drink on the way over. This is my dessert.”
Professor Teague comes over to our table and gives us brief instructions before he starts his class. Keith and I fall into the work silently. I’m not sure how long we’ve been working before my phone starts vibrating in my pocket. As discretely as I can, I take it out and glance at the screen and then answer.
“Hey,” I whisper. The only person who notices is Keith, and his brows pull down in disapproval.
Lincoln’s serious expression slowly drags into a big grin. “What are you doing?”
Lifting the goggles off my eyes, I answer. “I’m in lab.”
“Why the hell did you answer?”
Because it’s him. Because I haven’t talked to him all day and it’s becoming my favorite part of the day. “What do you need?”
Behind him, it’s dark, the sun setting on the golf course at his grandmother’s house. “Are you trying to escape another blind date?”
He chuckles. “Nope. Just me and Gram tonight. Those goggles are charming as hell. You have adorable raccoon eyes.”
I rub at my eyes in a weak attempt to make the marks go away. “Maybe you’ve already turned down every eligible bachelorette she knows.”
He laughs. “I doubt it. Anyway, I called because I’m teaching a golf clinic tomorrow and I have to go to the Suns game tomorrow night, but I’m free between and was thinking of playing a round.”
“Your life is bizarre.”
A grin tugs up one side of his mouth. “But awesome, right? Come with me.”
“What?” Did I just hear him right? Because it sounded like he invited me up to see him.
“The course here is tougher than the one you play at Valley. I think it’ll be a good challenge for you.”
I mull it over, though it really isn’t a matter of if I want to go but rather if I can work it into my schedule. “What time?”
“Miss Brooks,” Professor Teague addresses me from the front of the class.
“I gotta go,” I say quickly and hang up on Lincoln’s amused face before shooting my professor a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”
Keith shakes his head, and I shrug. As I go to put my phone in my backpack, I get a text.
Lincoln: Sexy scientist, I dig it. ;)
After lab, I head back to the dorm. Abby sits on her bed facing Cassidy and Erica, who are on mine.
“Hey, what are you guys doing here?” I ask as I drop my backpack to the floor.
“Well, since you won’t come to us, we decided to come to you.” Cassidy smiles with her elbows resting on her knees and her chin perched on her palm.
“I just saw you guys at practice a few hours ago.”
“Not the same and you know it,” Erica says. “Get ready and let’s go out. Wherever you want.”
“Where’s Smith?” I drop onto Abby’s bed next to her.
“He’s at the library. Thought I might try sleeping in my own bed for a change.” She elbows me gently.
“Novel concept.”
“We miss you,” Cass says. “You haven’t been out with us in weeks.”
“I miss you guys too, but I’m exhausted. I don’t feel like going anywhere tonight. Maybe this weekend?”
My phone pings, and Abby narrows her gaze. “Or maybe you’d rather spend the night talking to Lincoln. I mean, look what he did to this room?” She gestures to all my golf stuff.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been training nonstop.”
“Hey, no need to apologize. He’s seriously fine. I’d be glued to my phone too.”
My face warms, and I shift in my seat. I haven’t told anyone except Abby about staying with him last weekend. It isn’t that I’m embarrassed or anything, but telling them leaves it open to scrutiny and I want to keep whatever is between Lincoln and me in a bubble.
“Oh my God. You’re blushing, Keira.” Erica tosses my pillow at me. “You absolutely slept with him!”
“What?” Cassidy screeches. “You had sex with Lincoln Reeves?”
“No.” I toss the pillow back at Erica. “I didn’t.”
She catches it easily and holds it up as if she might toss it back. “I don’t believe you. Your face is so red.”
“We kissed. That’s all.”
Erica and Cassidy scream and laugh. They high-five, which I find particularly amusing.
“It isn’t a big deal,” I try to say, but they aren’t listening.
“Tell me everything,” Erica says when she’s settled down. “It’s been so long since I’ve kissed a guy. What were his lips like? Where did he put his hands? Have you seen his penis?”
“Oh my God.” I laugh. “Let’s talk about why you are on a self-imposed sex hiatus instead?”
“It isn’t self-imposed, there’s just a serious lack of options.”
“What about Chapman or Han? Or Keith, he’s sweet.”
Erica shakes her head. “Does Lincoln have any hot, single friends?”
“Uh, I don’t actually know. I get the feeling he doesn’t do a lot of hanging if it isn’t work-related. He does have an in with several pro sports teams, though, so I’d say the odds are good at least one of them fits your criteria.”
She claps excitedly. “Let’s go to The Hideout and snag a corner booth and you can tell us every detail over cocktails.”
“I have to get up early, and I don’t really feel like changing out of comfy clothes.” I’ve been living in leggings and golf skirts for weeks.
Abby stands and disappears into our closet only to pop out a couple of seconds later with a bottle of RumChata. “Fine. Then we’ll just drink here. I’ve had this bottle stashed since before winter break and have been waiting for the perfect time to break it out.” More than two months have passed. Between golf and school . . .”
“And you basically living at Smith’s,” I add.
“And that.” She nods. “But, seriously, how many more opportunities are we going to have before Erica and Cassidy graduate?”
I look between my friends. Their faces are a mixture of excitement and sadness. I know they’re right, and I do want to spend time with them.
Finding a balance has been hard, and okay, maybe spending every night working with Lincoln hasn’t been the biggest burden. The man is seriously hot and smart, and being coached by him is probably the single most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me. Still, putting in all this hard work won’t mean much if I’ve alienated everyone along the way.
“Hand it over,” I say finally.
23
Lincoln
I fumble for my phone on the nightstand and bring it to my ear, eyes closed and only vaguely aware of what I’m doing.
“Hello?” It comes out in a croak. My voice is groggy, and my throat feels like sandpaper, so I clear it a couple of times and try again. “Hello?”
“Hi!” Keira’s bubbly sweet voice answers. “Did I wake you? What time is it?”
“I’m not sure.” I bring my free hand to my forehead and rub it absently.
“You aren’t sure if I woke you or of what time it is?”
“Both.”
Her sweet giggles filter into my ear, and I hold the phone out so I can check the time.
“What are you doing up so late?” I ask, placing the phone back to my ear.
; “I was hanging out with the girls.”
“Oh, yeah? What was on the agenda tonight?”
“Boy talk, junk food, and now drunk dialing.”
“Mmmm. Sounds fun.”
“It was, but now that I’m in bed, I’m fading fast.” She yawns. “Is the offer to come up tomorrow still good?”
“Yeah, of course. I checked the weather it’s supposed to be really nice and—” I’m about to add to the list of reasons she should come, but she interrupts me.
“You should send me a picture?”
“Uh, what?”
“A picture.”
“A picture of what?” I play back our conversation in my head. “The golf course?”
“Of you. Duh. What do you sleep in?”
I’m smiling as I answer, “Boxers, sometimes shorts or sweats.”
“No shirt?”
“Not usually, no. Why?”
“I knew it!” she shouts, and I pull the phone from my ear for a second.
“What did you know?” Following this conversation is hard, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m half asleep or because she’s tipsy. Either way, I like that it’s me she’s drunk dialing.
“The night at the hotel you slept with your T-shirt on. I got totally cheated. Show me.”
“I’m not taking a picture of my chest.”
“You’re no fun.”
I try to picture her on the other end of the phone. Smiling and face flushed from alcohol.
“What time will you be here?”
She yawns again. “We don’t have formal practice tomorrow. I just need to get in eighteen holes with my group. We’re meeting at eight. I’ll call you on my way up.”
“I was thinking, can you stay the night and go back Saturday morning?”
“Like stay at your place?” Her voice slows and the pitch goes up at the end of her question.
“Or I can get you a room at a hotel if you’re more comfortable. I’d like to take you to the game, but it might be kind of late by the time we get back.”
Sweet Spot Page 14
