He swung around as if his clubs equaled the weight of Atlas’s globe. “I’m too tired to swallow.”
“Then you can sit and watch me put away a shake. I need to talk to you about something.”
“Can’t it wait till six tomorrow morning?”
“No, it can’t.”
He slid his golf bag down his arm until it rested upright on the ground. He gave her his attention, his eyelids drooping. “Then tell me here.”
“Are you sure? I’m buying. Picture a large cookies-and-cream shake. Free.”
“I might be able to swallow a few slurps.”
“OK. A small shake, then.”
“No. No. That’s OK. I’ll manage a large.”
She laughed. Her anxiety was no match against his ability to make her laugh. She’d miss that.
“You are so easy.” She trailed him to her SUV, her stomach plummeting a little more with each step. She still had no good reason for quitting. Knowing Shoo, “just because” wouldn’t cut it.
Shoo leaned back against the car seat and closed his eyes. “Wake me when we get to the ice cream place.”
What would she tell him between cookies-and-cream bites? She only had three weeks to live? That was metaphorically true. She’d walk around lovesick for three weeks without a cure, and then he’d give her his departing fist bump, and she’d die.
“Do you want to ride with us tomorrow?”
She startled. “You scared me. I thought you were asleep.”
He opened his eyes and raised his head. “Please tell me you’re not jumpy. Jumpy Allie is not good. Often, I take a beating when you’re tense.”
“That’s not true.”
He closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the headrest. “Tomorrow. To Conover. You, Grady, Mark, and me.” His words trailed off.
As she opened her mouth to pronounce an emphatic no, Shoo fluttered a quiet snore. She clamped her mouth shut and accepted the extra minutes to work on her quitting reasons.
She pulled into a space at the ice cream parlor and killed the engine. Under the lights emitting from the shop, Shoo’s face appeared relaxed. Her fingers itched to trace the smile lines framing his mouth. She inched her head closer to him, breathing in his scent. More musky now than his woodsy, jasmine smell this morning. Why couldn’t he see her as someone he’d like to date? Why couldn’t she give in and show him her tender side?
Tonight, she had tricked herself into believing this was the last night she’d need to keep her feelings in check. And they’d had fun. Why couldn’t she pretend for the next three weeks that every day was their last together? Then she wouldn’t need to conjure a reason to quit. Besides she wanted Shoo to do well in the pro-am. Could her wimpy heart carry the load?
Shoo stirred. “Sorry.” He looked around and then at her. “Milk shakes, right?”
“Yes.”
“What did you want to tell me?”
“Um.” Confess, pretend, or quit? “Before you fell asleep, you took the words out of my mouth. Could I catch a ride with you guys tomorrow?”
11
Guests checking out streamed through the motel lobby. Allie searched children’s golf programs on her phone while she waited for Shoo to shower after his two-hour training. No need to accept an invitation to shower in Shoo’s room today. She’d showered and dressed in jeans and a turtleneck at home and then stayed off the workout equipment.
The First Tee website looked promising. The program’s focus on teaching life skills and core values, along with solid golf instruction, had always intrigued her. She scrolled through the career opportunities. Nothing open in North Carolina. Several positions were open in Shoo’s home state, California.
Ticklish flutters rippled through her chest.
Forget it. She’d stick to today’s goal: chill on all things Shoo.
She went back to the Home page. A First Tee position somewhere in the South was definitely an option. She bookmarked the page.
Maybe Shoo would give her a reference. Right. Allie’s core values are mistrusting and judging people. Her life skills usually involve getting herself into embarrassing situations. Otherwise, her golf and physical training skills are stellar.
Sheesh! Couldn’t she stop thinking about Shoo for more than thirty seconds?
She took a deep breath. There, she had herself under control. She clicked on a golf camp in the search list.
Seconds after an elevator dinged, Shoo appeared from around the corner, carrying his duffle bag and clubs. He looked good in jeans and a plaid shirt. Damp curls had already escaped his slicked-back hair and tumbled over his forehead.
The desk clerk pointed finger guns at Shoo. “There’s my man. I’m buying a big-screen TV to watch you play on the regular PGA tour next year. Hear me, now. I don’t want to shell out money for the TV to watch you haul around someone else’s clubs.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” Shoo said.
“Buy the TV.” Allie shut off her phone. “He’ll be playing.”
Shoo lowered his duffle bag and clubs next to her suitcase and ambled to the registration counter. “I pay this woman to be my optimist.”
Allie snorted. “I’ve been wasting away from eating cheese crackers all week. How about a raise?”
Shoo slid his room key across the counter. “I misspoke. Her help is priceless, but she knows her worth is above my commissions. So, out of kindness—or maybe pity—she trains me free of charge.”
“Wow. You’re lucky, man.” The clerk turned away to answer the phone.
Shoo’s praise bounced around inside Allie. Maybe a reference from Shoo would be worthwhile, after all.
Shoo eased into a chair. “No sign of the guys?”
“Not yet.” She glanced toward the automatic glass doors. “They still have a few minutes.”
“Nice of your dad to bring you over this morning. Hope he’s OK with you joining us.”
“Conover is so close to home that Karen decided to go with Dad. They hit the road after they dropped me off. Karen enjoyed her day yesterday. I think she could turn into a groupie.”
“My stepmom had her hands full with us kids, so she never saw Dad play in the flesh. She’d watch the tournaments on TV, though, so she could keep up with Dad’s conversations when he got home. She’s the best listener I know. I can’t wait to see her, Dad, and my two sisters in two weeks. Except for a quick visit when I drove from Pebble Beach to visit my sports therapist, it’s been months since I’ve been home.”
She pocketed her phone. “I’m fortunate that I get to team up with Dad.” She loved being home, except for one little bump. Last night when she’d said good night to Dad sitting alone in the front room reading his thriller, that sort of sad expression he’d given her yesterday in the golf cart appeared again. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t get up the courage. Surely, he didn’t want to fire her and send her home with Karen. Or maybe, as usual, she was reading things wrong.
She checked for Paul’s car out front. “Yesterday, you said we’d travel with Grady and Mark. Isn’t Paul coming with us?”
“Paul’s not a regular caddy. He’s Mark’s friend and lives in Raleigh. Mark linked him up with a player who wanted to hire a local caddy. Paul left for home last night. That’s why we had to go in together for a rental car.”
“Mark is from Florida, right?”
“Yeah. We’ve been friends since sixth grade. His family moved from Cary to Tallahassee about the time I moved to San Fran.”
“What’s Grady like?”
“That’s right, you’ve never met Grady.”
A horn honked.
“There’s our ride.”
Outside the whooshing glass doors, fall sunshine warmed Allie. Birds in a nearby tree chirped greetings to the day. She smiled at the guy in the passenger seat. Orange Shorts—better known as Grady.
Grady’s eyes lit up, and he got out of the sedan. Music pounded from the open car door. “Let me get that for you.”
/> She released her grip on her suitcase handle. Nice. She hadn’t had curbside service in a while.
The trunk popped and Shoo raised the lid. Shoo and Grady stared at the jumbled mess.
“I’m guessing Mark did the packing,” Shoo said.
Grady nodded.
After rearranging and shoving, they squeezed in her suitcase and Shoo’s golf bag.
“Good thing your Dad is bringing your clubs, Allie.” Shoo closed the trunk. “I’ll put my duffle bag on the seat between us.”
“Drivers sit up front.” Grady reached for Shoo’s bag. “The least we back-seaters can do is give your bag a spot.”
“Fine with me.” Shoo slid into the front seat.
Grady held the door for Allie as she climbed into the back. Then he jogged around to the other side.
Was this guy for real? His attention was nice.
Mark wrenched around in the driver’s seat. “Hey, Allie. Congratulations on your dad’s win.”
“Thanks. I’ll tell him.”
Mark steered toward I-40 West.
Grady extended his hand over Shoo’s bag. “Grady O’Hara. Tampa, Florida.”
Allie shook his hand. “Allie Masterson. Cary, North Carolina.”
His handshake lasted a second longer than what she considered customary.
“I’ve heard stories about you, Allie.”
“Oh?”
Grady’s thick auburn hair complemented his sparkling green eyes.
“Yes. I’ve heard you’re a good golfer—” He touched her arm. “Let me rephrase that. I believe the term was ‘smoking hot.’ You’re a sports trainer and a ‘smoking hot golfer.’”
Allie laughed. Three hours in the car with Grady would be interesting. And somebody in this car wore her father’s aftershave—Grady the most likely culprit. She chuckled to herself. A man after her father’s tastes.
“I also learned you spied on us Tuesday night at Carywood. Why didn’t you come over and introduce yourself?”
Gossip about the female caddy had made the rounds. From Shoo, or from Mark?
“I didn’t want to break Shoo’s spell while he read your putts.”
Shoo spoke over his shoulder. “It wouldn’t have bothered me. It’s a game with these guys. I read their putts, and then they all set up challenging putts for my practice. I humor them.”
“I, for one, wished you had joined us,” Grady said. “I’d have welcomed something different.”
Mark located her in the rearview mirror. “Watch out, Allie. Grady is known as a ladies’ man…to put it nicely.”
Grady didn’t acknowledge Mark's comment. “So, about this dancing that I heard you enjoy. You like to hit the nightclubs?”
Allie eyed Shoo. Would he join in the banter and mock her behavior at the Carolina Boogie?
Shoo lowered the radio volume. She should have known he’d slip easily into good-ole-boy mode and rat on her.
She waited for him to start the jokes. He didn’t.
Grady looked from her to Shoo and then nodded. “I see.”
She cocked her head. “I don’t think you do.”
Grady pointed to her and then to Shoo and raised questioning eyebrows.
She shook her head. “Mark, could you turn up the air a little?” Would Grady take the hint and quit speculating about her relationship with Shoo?
“Don’t get any ideas, pal,” Shoo said. “Allie’s mornings and evenings are taken.”
Grady’s raised his chin. “Ah. I get it.”
Heat raced up her neck and threatened to explode every blood vessel in her face. “No, you’ve got it wrong. I’m helping Shoo train for the McGladrey Classic.” At least Shoo faced forward, and missed her transformation into a ripe tomato.
Grady gave her a doubtful look, and then he shifted his gaze to Shoo. “I like your determination, Shoo. You’ll be ready for the McGladrey.”
“I sure hope so.”
Grady fixed his attention back on her. “What areas are you working on? In training, that is.” He lowered his voice as if to keep the conversation in the back.
She matched his softer volume. “Power and coordination for a few more days. Then endurance and flexibility.”
“I’ve gotten lazy these past few weeks. I usually fit in some running on tour, but my player likes to practice after his play, and I refuse to run before sunrise.”
The conversations split between the front and back seats. While answering Grady’s questions on golf training methods, she kept one ear tuned to Shoo and Mark re-hashing a documentary they’d seen on various surfing hot spots in California. Rincon, Trestles, Half Moon Bay.
“Would you like to take in dinner and a movie tonight?”
She startled. Grady had asked her on a date? “A movie?”
“Yes, you know, theater, huge screen, popcorn.”
She glanced toward Shoo. Either he failed to hear Grady’s offer, or he cared so little that it didn’t warrant the slightest interruption in his conversation about the waves at Cardiff Reef in San Diego.
“Shoo and I plan to play eighteen holes as soon as we arrive in Conover.”
“You should be done in time to fit in dinner and make the early show. If not, we can catch a late show. This is our day off. We should have some fun.”
He slid his cell from his pocket. “Let’s see what’s playing.”
She shot another glance toward Shoo. In his surfing monologue, he’d moved on to Steamer Lane in Santa Cruz.
She rested her arm on Shoo’s duffle bag and leaned over to view Grady’s phone screen. She had to admit his aftershave had an alluring scent. “I haven’t been to a movie since forever.”
“So it’s a date?”
“Sure. Why not.”
~*~
Shoo removed his golf shoe and set it with its mate in the trunk. He nodded to a passing golfer silhouetted by the late afternoon sun. The round this afternoon had been good, and Allie had been pleased with his play, but just once this week he’d like to do or think something besides golf for an entire evening. He sat on the back bumper and tied on his sneakers.
Allie strode across the parking lot, carrying two soda cans, her ponytail swinging. Did she ever wind down?
“Here’s to a job well done.” She held out a can.
He welcomed the cold aluminum against his hand. She’d remembered he was a root beer man. He held the can aloft. “You’re an angel in cleats.”
He popped the top and took a long drink, barely tasting the fizzy root beer as he quenched his thirst.
The car dipped slightly as Allie sat beside him. She set her soda on the pavement, and unlaced her shoes. “Thanks for bringing my clubs.” She exchanged her golf shoes for her tennis shoes. “Your drives are definitely more accurate than the first time we played together. Margie’s tip is paying off.”
He stood and emptied ball marker, scorecard, and tees from his pocket. He sank back to the bumper and stuffed the items into his golf bag. “Let’s not talk golf for a while.”
Her forehead wrinkled in concern. “Are you OK?”
“Yeah. But I need a break.”
Without Allie’s toughness and encouragement, he could never have pushed himself to work as hard as he had the last two days. When she lived in her element, a.k.a. anything to do with golf, she forgot her concerns and focused on the game…and her client.
Now that Chris had finished in second-place money in Cary, Shoo could afford dinner at a slow-food restaurant. Maybe Allie would join him and then hang out with him for a while. Did the girl know how to hang out?
Allie sipped her soda. “Hey, look on the positive side. Now that we’re in the same motel, training will be easier.”
“Easier for you, maybe. Now, you’ll have more time to torture me.”
Allie stood and tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Are we getting out of here, or what?”
“Yep. I don’t want to think about a golf course or training until my eyes open tomorrow morning.”
In the car, h
e looked over at her. “How about we go out to dinner tonight, at a real restaurant. Then play cards or rent a movie. If we can pull Mark away from his reality shows, maybe he’ll join us.”
“I—”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot. You’ve probably made plans with your dad and stepmom.”
“They’re joining dad’s normal group. I opted out.”
“Great. Mexican, Vietnamese, steakhouse?”
“I—”
He smacked his forehead. “I forgot. Grady has the car tonight. Maybe he could drop us off, and we can find some other way to return. If we walk back, you could count the trek toward my endurance regimen.”
“I can’t.” She gave him a lame smile.
If Allie wasn’t going with Mill, where was she going? She looked guilty, as if she was holding back a secret. If only he hadn’t made a big deal about dinner. “No problem.” He put on his everything-is-cool smile. “Really.”
“How about Mark? He’s got to eat, right?”
“He watches his pennies closer than I do. On second thought, that’s a great idea. He hasn’t eaten a non-snack-food meal since we went to the barbecue place with you. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance—if I’m paying.”
Shoo parked and they went inside the motel. Grady stood at the front desk waiting for the clerk to finish serving another patron.
“Hey. How’d your round go?”
“Great.” Shoo tossed him the car keys.
Grady caught the keys one-handed. “I’ll meet you here in the lobby at six, Allie.”
“Sure.” She kept walking.
Allie was going on a date with Grady? So that was why she’d suggested only Mark join him for dinner. Well, huh.
They crossed the tiled floor to the elevators.
A heavy silence filled the space on the way up. Not a single conversational thought entered his brain. Her head tilted back, Allie stared at the lighted floor numbers above the door.
The elevator stopped on three.
Allie raised her hand. “See you at six a.m. in the fitness center.”
“Yeah. Six.”
The doors slid closed and the elevator rose. He hadn’t known what to say after she’d acted so secretive about her evening. Why didn’t she just say she and Grady had plans? A date with Grady was no big deal.
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 10
