She closed the door behind her and chaffed her arms while taking in—breathing in—Shoo’s room. His private sanctuary. So quiet the silence was spiritual.
Down the hallway, a door banged shut, interrupting her reverie. She dumped her gym bag on the bathroom floor, took a few steps into his room, and gave his space a clinical scan.
The bedspread on one double bed flowed onto the floor, and the sheets lay twisted and rumpled. She shifted her gaze before she imagined him sleeping there. Duh. Too late.
Jeans and socks lay on the floor near the TV console, and a T-shirt hung over the desk chair. His open duffle bag sat on the undisturbed second bed, a folded blue golf shirt topping its contents. A few books lay stacked on the bedside table. Overall, an unremarkable mess.
Allie crossed the room to check out his reading preferences. Heaviness pressed on her shoulders. She ignored it. She wouldn’t touch anything.
A travel-sized Bible rested on what looked like a thriller from the portion she could see of its cover. A blue spiral notebook sat under the novel. What secrets did goody-two-Shoo write in his notebook?
His inner thoughts were off limits. He would earn points from Mom, though, for reading his Bible.
Her gaze lingered on Shoo’s Bible. Images formed. Allie finishing her homework and creeping into the master bedroom to kiss Mom and Dad goodnight. Mom reading her Bible beside sleeping Dad.
Allie ran her fingertips over the Bible, and then she jerked her hand back. What was she doing, touching Shoo’s personal possessions? Did she think the Bible would somehow connect her to Mom?
Allie turned and headed for the bathroom, pulling her tank top over her head. Her snooping had cost precious seconds of her fifteen minutes.
In the bathroom, she dropped her shorts to the tile floor. Shoo’s canvas toiletry bag on the countertop gaped open. Hmm. Dental floss. Shoo flossed his teeth. A man after her hygiene-conscious heart.
What would it be like to be married to Shoo, sharing this bathroom—Shoo on tour, playing well under her wifely support?
She rolled her eyes. Apparently, he was also a man after her pitifully lonely heart.
Even though she’d learned a few things about Shoo, including his good dental hygiene, she should never have accepted his offer to shower in his personal territory.
Speaking of hygiene… She unwrapped a soap bar, closed the door against the frigid air conditioning, and stepped into the shower. His used bar rested in the soap dish.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t need this second bar. The facial bar. Wouldn’t housekeeping supply him with another one? Should she leave her bar on the tub rim so Shoo would know she hadn’t used his soap? Or should she take it with her?
Allie! Chill!
~*~
At the elevator’s ding, Shoo stepped off and strolled toward his room. Had he given Allie enough time? Her reluctance to shower in his room surprised him. He hadn’t pegged her as the modest sort. Interesting.
His quadriceps burned. Man, Allie was a good trainer. She knew her stuff. He licked salty perspiration from his upper lip. Maybe with her help he could make enough progress by November to do well in the pro-am. Was her expertise an affirmation from God?
He leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and rapped his knuckle on the door. “Housekeeping.” He kept his volume low for the guests who wished to sleep past six-thirty.
Allie yanked the door open. “This place could use housekeeping, and a heater to defrost it.”
He smacked his forehead. “I should have told you. I always adjust the air-conditioner to a colder temp before I leave to workout. I like to cool down before I jump into a hot shower.”
“Well, I didn’t want to touch anything, but if I get sick, you’re paying for the tissues, nasal spray, and aspirin.”
Her face—all of her—looked fresh and bright and healthy. Her knock-out blue eyes were always so expressive, whether they glowered in a mood or rounded with curiosity or brightened in delight. Allie was no primping-for-hours female. She was…Allie, the girl of a million facets. A gem.
She drew in her chin and pursed her lips. “Why are you staring at me? I assure you, I didn’t steal your cologne or read your journal.”
He pointed an accusing finger at her as he walked into the room. “How’d you know it was a journal? Huh? And you went through my toiletries?” He arched his brows and gave her his bluff-calling grin.
The color in her cheeks deepened. Had she really snooped in his stuff?
She recovered with a toss of her still-damp ponytail. “Many people journal while reading the Bible. My mom did. And, your room reeks of cologne.” She lifted her face and matched his smile.
“So why don’t you read mine while I shower.”
“Your journal?”
“No. My Bible.”
She stared at him. “You never give up, do you?”
“You know what’s good for me to get my body in shape, and I know what’s good for you to get your heart in shape.”
His clever ditty brought on another full blush. Why? Had he hit on something about her? Something she’d rather remain secret? What could he have detected about her heart? Ah. Maybe she was embarrassed because she’d fallen in love with someone.
“I think falling in love is a good thing. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”
Her eyes widened, and she hefted her gym bag and looped the strap over her shoulder.
Oops. His comment hadn’t helped. Time to change the subject. “Allie, today was a good workout, I think we’ll make a good training team. I want to thank—”
She brushed past him. “I’ll be waiting in the lobby. Your key is on the TV console.” She wrenched the door open. “Just be careful not to bond wet fingers to its frozen surface.”
The door clunked shut.
He should have kept his love advice to himself. He dumped his workout towel on the bathroom floor and undressed. What exactly had he said that was so disturbing, anyway? He adjusted the shower faucets and turned to grab his razor. A small soap bar lay at the bottom of the trashcan. Why had Allie thrown out the hand soap?
Maybe he should accept that there was no figuring out Allie Masterson.
9
Allie’s jibe about Shoo’s room reeking of cologne had failed to stop him from slapping it on and filling her SUV with the tantalizing scent. Would it stay trapped inside the car all day and greet her the next time she climbed inside? If only. She batted the visor down against the rising sun.
Shoo did the same.
With Shoo throwing around alluring stimuli, like his cologne scent and killer smile, how could she ignore her attraction to the guy? How could she be the buddy Shoo wanted and needed for the next few weeks, if she couldn’t get past this heart-drooling stage?
A woman with her intelligence should be able to figure out how to get a grip. So, step one, she’d play the buddy role no matter what. In her sports-filled life, she’d been around plenty of jocks and could mimic the role. Maybe the role-playing would rub off and a “just friends” attitude would disarm Shoo’s smile.
Right. Like when her next great drive dropped a ball into a moon crater.
Shoo performed a drumroll on the dash. “So which activities for tonight? Drills on the driving range and practice greens? Or play nine holes?”
“Both.”
“OK.” He saluted her. “I’ll swing, putt, and chip ’til I drop under the glow of the silvery moon.” He leaned toward her. “Hold still.”
“I can’t. I’m driving.” His hand inched toward her head. She held her breath, gripped the steering wheel, and stilled all but her arm muscles. “What is it?”
He grabbed her ponytail.
She yelped. “Is it a bug?” Why couldn’t a traffic light turn red? Like now.
He brought his hands forward, cupped together. “Some kind of beetle. Do you want to see it?”
“Ew. No.”
He powered down his window with his knuckle and opened his hands outside the window. “It’s
gone.”
She shuddered and ran her hand down her ponytail. “Ew. Ew.”
He stared at her. “You’re welcome. You do realize I just saved you from beetle mandibles.” He flipped her ponytail over the seatback.
Her laugh escaped before she could stop it. He was such a goof. She leaned forward, and her ponytail dropped behind her back. “I was going to say—before you saved me from the killer beetle—if we don’t dilly-dally at Prestonwood we can fit in both nine holes and drills before nine o’clock.”
“Heaven forbid, we should dilly-dally.”
She punched his arm. Buddy-like.
“Hey. Hands on the wheel, missy.” He patted his pocket. “Bummer. I left my cell in my room. I was going to search the beetle online so you could see what it looked like. Give me your phone.”
“No. I’d rather forget about the bug.”
“I didn’t picture you as the squeamish type.”
“I’m not squeamish. I’m just not into entomology.”
He chuckled.
A yellow leaf struck the windshield and flattened against the glass. In its battle against the wind, it ended up imprisoned in the wiper. Allie could identify. This playing-the-buddy business was hard. Would she end up with a crushed heart?
Shoo turned on the radio. A golf interview was in progress. When he reached for the radio buttons, she slapped his hand.
He pushed a button, anyway. Violins, French horns, and harps filled the car with music. “You listen to classical?”
“Maybe Dad set up that button.”
“Uh-uh. You did.”
“So what? Sometimes I need to chill out. I usually listen to beach music.”
“I’m a jazz man, myself. Any of these buttons take me to New Orleans jazz?” He changed the station. Violins disappeared. Several men’s voices interrupted each other. “Ha! I should have guessed one would take me to another golf station.”
Announcers placed their picks for the players who’d stay in the top five today. When all agreed Mill Masterson would remain in the top five, Allie sat taller.
“I hope Dad plays well today.”
“I’m praying for him.”
She looked at him. “Is that legal? I mean, you being Chris’s caddy?”
“Giving your dad a tip on a putt would be illegal, but I can petition God for anyone. I didn’t ask God for a win. I asked that Mill would play well and feel encouraged. And if a win is God’s will, so be it.”
Was Mom putting in a good word with God for Dad, too? “Thanks.” She narrowed her eyes. “I think.”
“If your dad does win, don’t you want to celebrate with him tonight, instead of torturing me?”
“He knows I’m committed to helping you get ready for the McGladrey Classic. He’s got Karen to celebrate with, anyway.” As he arched an eyebrow, she raised her hand. “And before you ding me, I meant that in the best way.”
“You don’t feel like a third wheel?”
“No. Karen’s cool.”
He issued a sigh. “You’re such an angel. A changed woman.”
She rolled her eyes.
He laughed and fist-bumped her shoulder.
Oh, the bliss of chumminess.
Allie turned into Prestonwood and showed the parking volunteers her caddy’s ID. In the parking lot assigned to players and their caddies, she located Dad’s sedan.
“Dad’s here. I’ve got to get going.”
“Then stop dilly-dallying, sprite.” He pointed to an empty parking spot.
With her size, she came off less like a buddy and more like Shoo’s younger sister.
No. Nix that. She’d choose Dad every time over a father who didn’t encourage her dreams.
Shoo craned his neck. “I don’t see Chris’s rental. I’ll head over to the drink machines.” He climbed from the SUV. “See you at the first tee.” He sauntered toward the clubhouse.
As Shoo’s footfalls took him farther away from the car, her chest weighed heavier and heavier. Why couldn’t she get a handle on her feelings? Maybe she needed to ask Dad for some other job. Maybe she could dig a pool in their backyard. That would be so much easier.
She locked the SUV and plodded toward the driving range, weaving her way through the fans streaming in from the shuttle buses.
Surrounded by the crowd, her blood sparked to life. She increased her pace. Soon she’d smell burgers and hot dogs grilling. And hear players’ drives crack as their balls sailed over fairways. Forget mooning over a guy. She was a caddy on the PGA tour, and not some lovesick woman.
~*~
Dad sent a ball sailing into the cloudless sky. Allie tracked the white sphere until it dropped near the 175-yard marker on the practice driving range.
He separated another ball from the pyramid of range balls. “I didn’t expect you so early.”
“Thought you might need some pointers.”
“So what pointer have you got for your old man?”
“Don’t do anything different today. You’ve played amazing golf this week.”
He hit another ball and then straightened. “I want to give my favorite caddy a big hug, but I’m afraid I’ll embarrass her.”
“You can hug me on eighteen when you win today. Players hug their caddies then, right?”
“It’s a date.” He winked and raked another ball from the pile.
“Hey.”
Allie turned toward the soft greeting.
Karen stood alone on the other side of the rope that cordoned off fans from the practicing players. A breeze kicked up and fluttered her cream-colored blouse and chocolate brown skirt. A tan sweater hung over her arm. Mom had Karen beat in beauty, but the kindness that radiated from their eyes and smiles were the same.
Allie stepped back from the practice range and joined Karen at the rope. The breeze carried Karen’s plumeria scent to Allie. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”
“I thought it would be fun to watch you two do your stuff.”
Allie glanced at Dad as he followed through on his swing. “Does Dad know you planned to come?”
Karen nodded. “I didn’t know whether I’d distract him, but he claimed I wouldn’t. So, here I am.” She drew up her shoulders, looking excited and overwhelmed.
“I’m glad you came.”
Dad hit his last range ball, and the three hiked to the first tee. Karen joined the crowd while Allie and Dad headed for the tee box.
Allie couldn’t help smile at how prim and proper Karen looked among the fans. Considering this was her first tournament and she was the wife of the man in the lead, she had to be filled with a few jitters.
Allie turned toward the tee box and took in Dad’s handsome face. Would he continue to play strong?
The jitters were catching.
Shoo and Chris joined them.
Shoo looked relaxed enough, his arms folded over his bib.
“How’s your training going, Shoo?” Dad pulled on his glove.
“Your daughter’s a tough trainer.”
Chris’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know you were training seriously, Shoo.”
What was Chris’s problem—besides never taking Shoo’s putting advice? Hadn’t he believed Shoo the other day when, on this exact spot, Shoo had said he was trying to make a comeback after his injury?
“Yes. I’m training for the pro-am at St. Simon Island.” Shoo, the professional caddy, had chosen to stay neutral. He quirked a smile toward Allie. “Who’d have thought a trainer like Allie would cross my path right when I needed one?”
Chris appraised Allie with a doubtful look.
It was her turn to stay neutral.
Dad angled his head toward her. “Allie graduated from the sports science program at UNC.”
Chris’s countenance improved. “That’s great. More power to you, Shoo. Be tough on him, Allie.”
“Nooo problem.”
Dad entered the tee box.
Shoo sidled to Allie within whispering range. “Is that your stepmother? The wom
an your dad keeps sending smiles and winks to?”
“No, I’ve never seen that woman before. Do you think Dad’s having an affair?”
Shoo peered down at her and delivered his you’ve-got-to-be-kidding expression.
“Yes. It’s Karen. She’s more nervous than Dad. Her first tournament.”
“So, he’s holding up OK?”
“I think so. He accepted a date with me for a winner’s hug on eighteen.”
~*~
Allie eased the golf cart through fans, and then increased its speed on the cart path. The winner was down to Dad or Chris. She steered with one hand and gnawed a cuticle on the other. For this last hole, should she give Dad encouraging words, or keep silent?
Dad flipped his black book open, reviewed her notes, and then stored the book in his back pocket.
She sensed him studying her, and her arms prickled. Was he about to confess he feared choking? What should she say to encourage him?
He touched her arm. “You know it’s only a game.”
She whipped her head toward him. “You’re kidding, right?”
“A little. But it’s been a good season so far and I’ve enjoyed getting back into the competition. Plus, having you as my caddy is a huge blessing.”
As if he longed to tell her something, his eyes stayed focused on her.
She frowned. “Don’t go all soft on me, Dad. You need to be thinking one thing. You’re going to make a birdie. No other thoughts. Birdie. Birdie. Birdie.” She punched the air with her finger.
He chuckled. “Oh, I’m thinking birdie, don’t worry about that. But I don’t want you to be bummed if I lose. You seem so tense.”
Great. She should be fired. She’d hid her apprehension about as well as a shipwrecked man hid his from circling sharks.
Stay neutral. “I’m fine. And I will be fine. And Karen will be fine.”
Just slap her. Brilliant, mentioning Karen so he could worry about her too.
Dad chuckled. “That makes it unanimous. We’ll all be fine.”
“Fine.”
He laughed.
He had to be laughing at her, because she didn’t feel like laughing with him.
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 8
