He exited the elevator and walked down the hall, slipping his room key from his wallet.
Grady was a good guy, but Allie’s secretiveness must have meant she thought he’d disapprove of her date. Or maybe, showing her feminine side embarrassed her. With Allie, who knew?
He entered his room and sat on the bed. If the date was no big deal, then why’d he suddenly feel uneasy about Allie’s date with Grady?
He was no expert, but Allie seemed too vulnerable to handle a guy like Grady. The guy dated many women. Typically, no more than once. Hopefully, one date would be enough, and they’d decide to be friends. He’d hate to see Allie hurt.
~*~
As Allie and Grady entered the steakhouse, Allie surveyed the customers. Wouldn’t Shoo choose a less expensive restaurant in the area for the two meals he was prepared to fund? She craned her neck to see the booth in the far corner. No sign of Shoo and Mark. She relaxed. Now she could enjoy getting to know Grady. Get her focus off Shoo. There were other bulls in the corral. Wasn’t that why she’d dressed in her silky blue blouse and worn light-pink lipstick?
Grady ushered her with his hand on her back as they followed the hostess to an empty booth. A mesquite aroma hung in the air.
Allie ordered a T-bone and Grady went with the large cut prime rib. His elbow on the table, he cupped his chin and studied her.
She glanced around the noisy room before bringing her gaze back to him. “You’re making me feel uncomfortable.”
“You have the brightest blue eyes I’ve ever seen.”
“I got them from Dad.”
“Have you ever thought of wearing your hair down?”
Whoa. Allie sipped her sweet tea. Wasn’t it a little early in the date to discuss letting her hair down, so to speak? “We’re going Dutch tonight.”
He reached for his soda. “No. I asked you out. You can pay when you return the favor.”
His smile lacked Shoo’s charm, but with his dancing green eyes, his overall looks were more striking than Shoo’s. She could see why Mark labeled him a ladies’ man. His manners rang true to a gentleman’s, but his gaze roved the room, latching onto each female who passed by, whether she carried a sizzling steak to another table or a purse to the nearby restroom.
“So, you enjoy dancing?”
She shrugged. “Contrary to what you’ve heard, I can take it or leave it. But sometimes dancing relieves tension.”
“Are you on edge often?”
“Sometimes.” And would be tonight, if he stayed on this tack. “Tell me about you. How did you become a caddy?”
“I tried to succeed as a player, but I couldn’t make it happen. I’m not like Shoo. So, I’m doing the next best thing.”
“I think Shoo’s got a good chance to make the tour, don’t you?”
“Yes, some golfers are naturals, and then some work hard at the game. Shoo is both.”
“I agree. When he learns something, he owns it.”
Grady glanced at a waitress who passed their table carrying a children’s booster seat. He returned his gaze to Allie. “Back to you. Why are you caddying?”
Saved by the waitress bearing their entrees, Allie kept her story to a short version. She buttered her roll. “Shoo made five birdies today and parred the other holes.”
Grady dipped a prime rib morsel into the horseradish sauce. “Great. Do you plan to make caddying a career?”
“Probably not, unless Dad is in a bind, and as you know, chances that’ll happen are small. Caddies outnumber players, and that gives the pros the advantage.”
“Don’t I know it. I’ve come across caddies, myself included, who found it tough to get a steady job. So, what will you do, instead?”
“I’ll look for another job teaching golf to children. I liked my job with a children’s golf program this past year, although I have thoroughly enjoyed training Shoo. I think I can help him get in the best possible shape in the short time he has left before the pro-am.”
“I’m sure you can. What do you like to do when you’re not teaching golf to children, training golfers, or caddying?”
“Golf.”
He held his fork suspended over his plate. “Hmm. You already said you don’t go to many movies. Do you like to read, crochet, cook?”
“I’ve read several biographies. Ben Hogan: An American Life, The Grand Slam: Bobby Jones, one about Arnold Palmer, and a few others. Maybe someday, biographers will clamor for Shoo’s story.”
He laughed. “I should’ve guessed. All biographies of golfers. And the TV you watch is the Golf Channel. Am I right?”
Sheesh. She sounded as though she had a one-track life. “My mother and I read many classics together. Little Women and so on. I play a mean Monopoly game, and my father taught me how to play chess, although my game stinks. Oh, yeah. I won the summer tennis championship when I was thirteen. And my mom taught me how to make cookies and a yummy German chocolate cake.”
“From a mix in a box?” He smirked.
“No, Mr. Smug, we made the frosting from scratch.”
“But the cake from a box.”
“What’s wrong with that? Do you brew your own aftershave when it’s easier to buy it in your nearest grocery store? By the way, do you know a men’s cologne that has a woodsy, jasmine smell?”
“No. Why?”
“It’s what Shoo wears. I thought it would make a nice Christmas present for my dad. Smells pretty good.”
Grady sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “You’ve got it bad for him, don’t you?”
She stirred her tea with her straw. “What are you talking about?”
“Shoo. You’re crazy about him. And don’t say you’re not. I saw how you kept looking at him in the car.”
Her face flamed. “I—I am not. He’s a nice guy, that’s all.” Dig a hole and bury her. If Grady spilled her secret, she’d never be able to face Shoo again.
Grady’s hand covered her fist that she’d balled tighter than a vise-grip and pressed against the wood tabletop.
He smiled. “It’s OK. I’m experienced in recognizing the signs when a woman is taken with a man. Of course, I’m usually the object of such admiration. You’re a fresh experience for me.”
A fresh experience? Just what she’d always wanted to be. Where did Grady come off?
Time out.
Her freshness wasn’t her biggest problem right now. How could she convince Grady she wasn’t taken with Shoo? “That’s ridiculous.”
“Anytime a woman mentions a man other than her date five times during dinner, she is obviously smitten by the other man.”
The blood from her flushed cheeks cooled and drained from her face. She swallowed against her dry throat. “You won’t rat me out, will you?”
12
Allie drew the safety lock into place on the motel room door, then turned and collapsed against it. She’d had a few unforgettable dates, but never one she’d wished everyone involved would forget. Grady, her…Shoo.
When she’d asked Grady if he intended to blab to Shoo about her infatuation for him, Grady had given the appearance he was thinking hard on it. She’d glowered at him until he’d laughed. Could she trust he’d keep his promise—of sorts—to remain mum?
In gratitude, she’d let him off the hook from taking her to the movies, but he’d gallantly insisted they go as friends. Friends. Her life’s story.
At least going to the movie covered her if Shoo asked about the date. She could tell him the story plot line and avoid confessing Grady had ditched her when he realized she drooled only for Shoo. And, hey, she hadn’t eaten scrumptious movie popcorn in a long time.
A sharp knock came. Allie jerked away from the door, her heart drumming. Who in the world? Maybe Dad, checking in. She peered through the peephole.
Shoo?
She released the security lock and opened the door.
Shoo, dressed in a white T-shirt, khaki shorts, and socks, studied her face. “You OK?”
“Why wouldn’t
I be?”
His hand on the jamb, he leaned toward her, sending her a whiff of his cologne. “Your date went OK?”
Allie drew in her chin and frowned. What was this? Twenty questions? “Yeah.”
“The perfect gentleman, huh?”
She planted her hands on her hips. “Shoo, what’s going on?”
An older couple eyed them as they passed behind Shoo.
Shoo nodded a greeting, and then faced her again. “Can I come in for a minute?”
She stepped aside. Why was Shoo acting so strange? And why had he come down from the fourth floor in his socks to ask about her date? She closed the door.
Shoo took two steps and turned. “Grady stopped by a few minutes ago.”
The weasel! He’d broken his promise.
Shoo pointed at her face. “I knew it. I can tell by your expression. Something happened.”
“N–No. Nothing happened. We ate and watched a movie.” She passed him and plopped down on the armchair.
He followed and leaned against the desk, towering over her. “Then why did Grady stand in my doorway and chuckle and laugh? And when I asked why, he wiggled his eyebrows, sniggered, and left.”
So, that’s how Grady kept her secret? Tantalizing Shoo into making the trek to her room to learn the funniest thing Grady had ever heard? That Allie Masterson had fallen zap-happy in love with the Eric Liddell of golf. So funny she wanted to bawl.
Shoo regarded her with concern. “Don’t look so glum. We’re friends, right? You can tell me.”
So now Shoo was the white knight ready to rescue her. She curbed an eye roll. “What? You’ll go beat Grady to a pulp?”
“I knew it.” He marched toward the door. “He had no right to touch you.”
Allie gasped, leapt from the bed, and grabbed his arm. “Shoo. No.” She hung on. “Grady didn’t do anything. I was being sarcastic. He acted the perfect gentleman. We ate popcorn and gummy worms together and watched minimal good guys chase bad guys in souped-up cars. That’s all.”
Shoo’s guarded expression suggested he was trying to detect whether she’d lied. “Then why was he laughing?”
“He was happy?”
Shoo huffed. “Not funny.”
She delivered a light punch to his belly. “Come on. Sit down. I’m telling you, tonight was a simple date. Grady and I are friends.” She gave him another gentle jab. “I’m honored you want to protect me.” Like a little sister. Still…her heart fluttered. Good thing this was the last night she’d be with Shoo.
His shoulders relaxed, and he dropped into the armchair. “I didn’t mean to come on like King Kong, but Grady’s reputation, along with his I-know-something-you-don’t-know laughs, sent up flags.” His brow wrinkled. “I can’t guess what he found so amusing.”
Good. As loosely as Grady guarded her secret, she needed to have a talk with him tomorrow. Would she need to resort to bribes?
Shoo chuckled and shook his head. “You must think I’m crazy.”
“As I said, I’m touched you were worried about me, but you don’t need to be. I’m a big girl.”
His gaze swept over her. “Not very.”
She pitched a throw pillow at him. Could he be more obtuse? She’d meant she was a woman worthy of romantic relationships, as opposed to a little sister. Obviously too cryptic.
He caught the pillow and tossed it up a few times. “I guess I’d better get to bed. Six is barely what I call sleeping in.”
“Yeah. Back to four o’clock training come Thursday.”
Shoo yawned. “Man. Sometimes I think Dad has a point.”
Grrr. “Boo-hoo for Shoo. Have you been talking to your Dad?”
“Yeah. He heard on the golf grapevine that one of those golf resort training centers, where people come for one or two weeks to polish their game, has an opening for an instructor.”
Allie clenched her teeth. Walk carefully, Allie. “Is instructing all day something you’d enjoy?” She held her breath.
“I like to help people, but working on golfers’ games forty hours or more per week would get old fast.”
She let out a breath. Quietly. Why couldn’t Steve Leonard see that his son was different from himself and leave Shoo alone to make his own career decisions?
Maybe Shoo needed a break. They’d been training hard. She ate up every minute working with the Eric Liddell of golf.
“On second thought, since we have the day off tomorrow, let’s meet at seven-thirty. I’d rather jog in daylight.”
“Fine with me.” Shoo rose from the chair and tossed the pillow onto the bed.
She followed him to the door.
In the open doorway, he turned. “Again, I’m sorr—” He leaned toward her and scrutinized her mouth.
Tingles rippled through her. She dropped her gaze to his lips. Would he kiss her?
He touched her top lip. “Is that lipstick traces?”
She drew her hand across her mouth. “Yeah, so what?”
“I think you like Grady.” He straightened. “So, is that the little secret Grady thinks is so funny?”
“No. And even if it was, my dates are not your business, King Kong.”
“Uh huh.” Shoo grinned and left.
~*~
Allie tossed the Hickory, North Carolina promotional magazine onto the motel lobby’s coffee table. So much for multitasking. She couldn’t recall a single picture or article. And she’d gotten nowhere on the other task, saving herself from where last night’s date with Grady had plopped her. In a pickle, as Dad would say.
The night clerk said his goodbyes to the day clerk, nodded toward Allie, and exited through the automatic sliding glass doors into the sunny morning.
Allie zipped her running jacket against the cool air that whooshed in.
Who’d have thought Grady would guess her secret infatuation with Shoo? And how much denser could Shoo get, thinking she mooned over Grady?
She heaved a sigh. Men.
She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. How would she silence Grady and convince Shoo she wasn’t ready to jump into Grady’s golf cart?
Forget a pickle. How about a squash? Grady coming at her from the left, and Shoo from the right. Squash!
“Praying?”
Allie startled and looked up. Shoo wore his signature grin. His running shorts and T-shirt looked as if they were ready for a wash.
“Why are you always sneaking up on me?”
“Touchy. And I thought you were praying.”
“I should be.”
“Oh?”
“Let’s hit the road.” She stood and headed for the automatic doors.
They jogged the back roads. Dew-soaked leaves in yards emitted a dank scent that mixed with the acrid odor rising from leaf ashes along the curb. She breathed through her mouth. Better.
Shoo waved to people heading to their cars toting lunch bags, briefcases, and newspapers. Most would be cooped inside all day. She’d take the musty and sooty outdoor odors over being stuck in an office.
The smells aside, the morning’s temperature was perfect for jogging. Maybe they could stretch the run to six miles.
As their shoes slapped the pavement in a steady cadence and they sustained a companionable silence, tension eased from Allie’s neck and shoulders.
She glanced at Shoo. He’d already donned his wraparound sunglasses. They masked his eyes, but everything about him looked relaxed as if he’d found his zone. His feet connected with the road in a graceful rhythm, his full weight never seeming to settle on the pavement.
Her runner’s watch registered three miles covered. “Let’s head back.”
They jogged in an arc across the road.
Her cell phone played Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog. Who’d call her this early? Dad? Keeping her pace, she rustled her phone from her shorts pocket. Grady. What did he want?
Shoo looked sideways at her.
She faced forward. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.”
“We’re on a ru
n.”
“I thought you might be.”
Then why hadn’t he waited until later in the morning to call? He didn’t sound as if he had anything important to tell her.
She avoided a pothole. “So, what’s up?”
Shoo angled his head down at her. Thankfully, her shades hid her eyes.
“I thought I’d call and make Shoo jealous.”
Dig a hole and bury her. “Not necessary.”
“Come on. It’s a great plan.”
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
“OK.” He didn’t sound convinced. “How about if we all do something together today. You, me, Shoo, and Mark.”
Shoo looked down at her again. Curiosity must be killing him. Exactly what Grady counted on in his Cupid—stupid—scheme. She shifted the cell to her other ear, farther from Curious Shoo, and turned her face to the lawn with the gnomes peeking out from bushes and stones.
“It depends. How well did you understand no?”
“No to what?”
“To your first suggestion.”
“I promise to be good.”
“Good at what?” A trickle of sweat coursed her face.
“I won’t say or do anything to embarrass you.”
“Then I guess that would be fine. Bye.”
Without looking Shoo’s way, she pocketed her cell.
She’d ramped down to a shuffle during Grady’s call. Shoo had done the same. She sped up.
Shoo matched her stride, pulled his sunglasses down his nose, and eyed her over the frames.
She slanted her head to look at him and brushed a bug from her tongue. “Ew. What?”
“A problem?”
“The bug or Grady’s call?”
He gave her his what-do-you-think look.
“Grady wants us all to get together and do something today. I said it was fine with me.”
“Are you sure he meant everyone?”
She halted. Enough was enough. He continued a few steps and then turned to her, jogging in place.
She brushed her terry cloth wristband across her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere with you, including the training room and runs, if you don’t cut it out. Grady and I are friends. Got it?” Her last words came out harsh. Too harsh. But why didn’t these guys believe what she told them. Did she look like a liar?
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 11
