Shoo stood behind her. “Yes, thank you, and thank You, Lord.”
Ralph dropped the necklace into Allie’s waiting palm and turned to store his tools.
Allie strode to her wallet on the bedside table, extracted a twenty, and returned to the bathroom. She thrust the bill toward Ralph still on his knees. “Thank you so much.”
He shook his head. “That’s a nice gesture, but I don’t accept tips. Returning the necklace to you is reward enough for me.”
Shoo pushed past Allie. “Ralph, do you have needle-nose pliers in your toolbox?”
“Sure do.” Ralph handed up the pliers.
“Let me have your necklace, Allie.” She dribbled the chain into Shoo’s hand. “Yep. The link that’s supposed to attach to the clasp has opened.”
He sat in the armchair beside the floor lamp.
Allie stood at his side watching him wield the pliers.
Two squeezes on the gold link, and the gap closed. He lifted the chain. “Good as new.” He dropped it into her hand. “Well, after you wash it off, that is.” He tapped her arm. “With the sink stopper closed.”
Her gaze on the necklace, Allie nodded. Her expected eye roll at his directive didn’t happen. Huh.
Shoo returned the pliers to Ralph, and the grinning maintenance man left.
Allie took her necklace into the bathroom. After a while, she returned to the room and, holding her hair aside, turned her back to him.
“Will you put it on? The clasp is a little tricky.”
“I remember.” He gathered wayward tendrils and placed them over her shoulder. Her hair was as soft and silky as he’d imagined. “There you go.” He tapped the closed clasp.
Allie spun around and hugged him, her face planted against his chest.
He stepped back to counteract her momentum, his hands suspended in the air. Her hair smelled as if it had been washed in an elixir straight from heaven. Like freshly cut fruit. He held his hands over her head. Would it be all right? Just this once? He ran his hand down her silky tresses.
Divine.
~*~
While Allie brushed her teeth, she caressed her cross through her golf shirt. Would she ever stop checking its presence? Would she ever be able to thank Shoo enough, even though she’d gushed her appreciation at least three times during their morning run?
Last night, he’d claimed God had answered their prayer and directed them to her necklace, but wouldn’t they have thought of the drain solution, eventually? Maybe, but not before powerful faucet surges washed the necklace away. She closed her eyes. “Thank You, Jesus, for answering Shoo’s prayer. Maybe You do care about me.”
Her eyes opened to her reflection. Time to tame her unruly mane. She grabbed her weapon and blasted hot air over her hair while she drew her brush through the damp mass.
After she‘d formed the last twist around her ponytail, the band snapped tight. She lifted the hand soap and breathed in its scent. Last night when she’d hugged Shoo for his kindness, he’d smelled like soap.
Had she blown her buddy cover with her overzealous embrace? Well, he hadn’t run from the room. That was a plus. He’d seemed normal during their four-mile jog this morning, except when she’d caught him looking down at her a few times.
If she’d been less emotional last night, she’d have shaken his hand, instead of wrapping him in a hug, but a handshake would’ve cheapened her gratitude. Shoo had come to her aid when she’d needed him. He’d proven he was a friend she could count on. And best of all, he’d held her for several moments in an embrace better than a kiss. Well, a kiss would’ve been nice…
Would their tender moment make it easier or harder for her to play his buddy for the next eleven days? If her gut was right, treating him any other way would kill any possibility of a closer relationship. She needed to chill and let things happen at his pace.
She studied her image in the mirror and then rummaged in her toiletry bag. Today was a day for a little pink lipstick.
Her cell phone’s song played. She smacked her glossed lips and checked the phone. Wow. Things were going well. Already a call from Shoo between their morning run and caddying. “Hey.”
“Still have your cross?”
“Yes. I keep checking to make sure it’s there.” She moved to the bedroom, his call teasing her lips into a sappy smile.
“Good. I’m calling because a local caddy, Aaron Martin, has invited all the caddies to his dad’s ranch for a beef barbecue. Want to go?”
Goosebumps tingled her arms. “I’d like that, but what about practice at the driving range?”
“Come on, Allie. Let’s take a break. We’ll work twice as long tomorrow.”
Maybe a break was what he—they needed. They’d been working hard. Shoo had been giving a hundred and ten percent. “Sounds like fun. How do we get there?”
“Aaron’s arranged for two buses to shuttle us from the golf course about six-thirty and bring us back around nine.”
“With our late finishes, we won’t have time to clean up and change.”
“Who cares how we look or smell. It’s free eats. I’m tasting the spicy Texas sauce already.”
As he spoke, she returned to the bathroom and dropped her body-freshening wipes, lipstick, and brush into her canvas bag. She’d add a clean golf shirt as soon as she got off the phone.
“Are you ready for a real Texas hoedown?” He continued before she could speak. “You do know how to square dance, don’t you?”
“No. I’m more into free movement, remember.”
“I can picture you now doing a Texas two-step all by yourself at the Carolina Boogie.”
Her giggle was out before she could stop it.
“I do like your giggle, pardner.”
Maybe it was time to send her giggle police packing and be herself. “Since ninety-nine percent of the caddies are guys, my guess is square-dancing won’t be a hit.”
“Maybe they’ll bus in belles in frilly skirts.”
“Sorry, no frills on my shorts. I’ll have to pass. I’ll be glad to watch you do-si-do, though.”
His deep laugh raised fresh goosebumps.
“Since you finish your round before mine, meet me on eighteen.” He said his goodbye and ended the call.
Allie switched her cell to vibrate and sat on the bed. None of her molecules wanted to move and destroy the moment. Her dream was happening. Shoo had asked her out. This time it wasn’t a thank-you dinner. Flutters tickled her stomach. She pressed her hand against her midriff. If only she could stay the turbulence and savor her calmness a while longer.
Her cell vibrated.
“Hi, Dad.” Her serene voice surprised her. She smiled. Wonder of wonders. Allie Masterson could handle a tranquil state. “I’m ready to go.”
“I’ve been looking over your notes, honey. These are great. The best I’ve ever had from a caddy.”
Today promised to be one terrific day.
19
Allie cleaned Dad’s ball and tossed it to him. All afternoon, while she waited for players to make their drives and putts, her thoughts seemed stuck in a spin cycle set on Shoo and their upcoming date.
Dad’s ball dropped into the cup.
Cheers rose from the crowd surrounding the green and from the stands.
Allie grinned and joined Dad for the handshakes.
Her duties done and a parting hug received from Dad, she hustled the golf cart to the cart return, stored Dad’s clubs in the rental’s trunk, and scooped up her canvas bag. In the back lot, caddies milled around the buses reserved for the barbecue.
Allie hiked to the nearest restroom tent. Inside a smelly porta potty, she used body-freshening wipes, put on a fresh shirt, redid her ponytail, and smoothed on pink lipstick. That would have to do. If she stayed inside the toilet another second, she’d pass out. Shoo had seen her sweaty and disheveled several times, anyway. The door banged behind her as she hustled to Eighteen.
As Shoo’s group approached the green, Allie slid into the cro
wd. Chewing wintergreen gum, she craned her neck and read the scores on the standard bearer’s board. If Chris did well on this hole, chances were good she would caddy with Shoo tomorrow. The day kept getting better and better.
Chris took Shoo’s green-reading advice and made his putt. The fans clapped.
Now, Shoo would take care of the handshakes, and then search the crowd for her. While her stomach fluttered, she rose onto her toes. Hopefully, he could spot her.
Chris took his sweet time removing his glove and handing it to Shoo. If she could stop her jiggling leg, she’d put on a serene posture for what hopefully would be the first of several dates before the tour ended. Maybe she’d borrow money from Dad and fly to Georgia to caddy for Shoo at the McGladrey.
Shoo scanned the dispersing crowd.
Allie waved.
His gaze landed on her, and he smiled that killer grin that thrilled her to her toes. He headed toward her.
“John! John Leonard! Over here! John!”
Shoo’s head turned in the direction of the female voice, and as his face lit up, he veered toward an animatedly waving brunette. The tall woman wore her yellow gauzy blouse, white capris, and two-inch wedged sandals like a high fashion model. As she fluttered her hand at Shoo, bangles jangled and slid up her arm.
Shoo, the caddy, had a fan? One who wore loud bracelets to a golf tournament?
After Shoo reached the young woman, their embrace lingered too long for people who were “just friends.” Relatives? Cousins or siblings would hug like that.
Noble try, but Allie’s gut wasn’t buying a family tie. Something more than shared blood sparked between those two.
So, what did a short, ponytailed caddy with bitten nails do when a luring siren sidetracked her date? Besides gather the pieces of her shattered heart?
The two long-lost “whatevers” parted, and Shoo shook hands with an older man at the woman’s side. Could she hope he was the woman’s sugar daddy?
The crowd thinned.
Soon Allie would stand alone, watching Shoo and the woman gush at each other. Shoo hadn’t looked at Allie once since he’d seen the woman. Not even a glance her way. He clasped the woman’s arm as he spoke to the older man.
A dart to her heart. The last she could bear. She pivoted and joined the fans streaming to the parking lots. She had to make it to Dad’s car before he drove off and left her with no other option than to spend a miserable evening at a hoe down with caddies.
“Allie!”
Should she pretend she didn’t hear Shoo?
“Allie, stop!”
No one would believe she hadn’t heard that. Even the nearby fans glanced at her as if they wondered whether they should help the guy trying to get her attention. She stopped, cranked on a smile, and turned.
The woman wobbled on her wedged sandals as she followed Shoo through the grass. As they approached, Allie fixed her gaze on their faces. She couldn’t trust herself to stay put if she looked down and found Shoo had grasped the woman’s hand.
“Allie, this is Christine.”
Oh. The woman who’d broken Shoo’s heart.
Shoo placed his hand on Christine’s back. “Allie caddies for her father. She’s also my trainer.”
Not for long.
Christine performed a fingertip shake like those ladies who didn’t want anyone to crush their big Tiffany rings into their delicate fingers.
“I’m glad to meet you, Allie.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” She swallowed down the lie.
She flicked a glance at Shoo that would have grown into a glare if she’d parked it on him. The least he could have done was introduce her as his friend or even as his buddy, but he’d chosen to call her his trainer.
Shoo grasped Allie’s elbow. “Can I talk to you for a second, Allie?”
What was she supposed to say? Sorry, bud, your trainer’s off the clock? She nodded and moved with him, away from Christine.
He lifted her chin with his finger and then tapped down her sunglasses on her nose and captured her gaze. “Christine and her Dad drove down from Austin after they got off work. They didn’t catch up to me until this last hole. They’ve invited me to dinner. I know I told you to meet me here, but would you mind meeting Mark and Grady at the buses?”
This was not happening. She shoved her sunglasses into place. Why had he stopped her? Letting her continue toward the parking lot would have left her dignity intact. Did he think officially dismissing his trainer demonstrated his prowess to his ex? Now, Allie would probably miss a ride with Dad.
She shrugged, then spun around and strode away.
If God cared, Dad’s rental would still be in the lot. And, she’d make it to his car without dying from a crushed heart.
~*~
Dad’s car was gone. Allie’s heart sank. She planted her hands on her hips and stared at the empty parking space. Dig a hole and bury her.
Dad had gone off to meet friends for dinner. Should she call him and ask him to come back and take her to the motel? No. That would take a big bite out of his dinner.
Sheesh. This was no time for puns. All she wanted to do was lock herself in a closet and cry.
An engine roared behind her, and she whirled around. One of the buses crept toward the exit.
“No, no, no.” She whipped her gaze to the clubhouse, to the parking lot, to the buses, and then back to the clubhouse. What should she do? Unless she ran for the other bus, Shoo, with Christine in tow, would catch her stranded when he brought Chris’s clubs to his car.
She eyed the buses. A corny hoedown was better than facing the happy couple.
She sprinted toward the second bus. Its engine revved. Then it eased forward. Allie churned her legs faster. Was she so short he couldn’t see her waving her arms like an idiot? She glanced behind her. No Shoo. Thank heaven for that.
The bus stopped with a loud whoosh.
Heaving diesel-filled breaths, Allie climbed the steps. Caddies filled three-quarters of the high-backed chairs. Mark and Grady sat two rows back from the driver. All male eyes shifted to stare at the crazy girl.
“Good thing Grady saw you running and alerted the driver.” Mark pointed to the vacant seats. “We saved you and Shoo seats. Where’s Shoo?”
As the bus ground forward, she drew in a breath and collapsed into the empty aisle chair. “He’s not coming.”
“What?”
“Why not?”
Between breaths, she spoke over her shoulder. “He’s going to dinner with an old girlfriend and her father.”
The seat beside her shook as Mark grasped the seatback and pulled himself forward. He peered over the chair. “Christine?”
Allie looked at him. “Yes. You know her?”
“Not well.” He shrugged. “She’s nice.”
Thud.
“Ow.” Mark winced.
Grady must have punched him.
Mark’s eyes grew round. “But you’re just as nice and a lot more fun.”
How could she want to laugh and cry at the same time?
Mark sat back, but Grady stood and entered the aisle. He smiled down at her. “Scoot over.”
Just what she needed. Grady’s warped wisdom about relationships. Why couldn’t he stay where he was? She had no desire to talk.
He shooed her with the backs of his hands. She huffed and moved to the window seat. They were in traffic now. They passed fans waiting to board buses that would take them to parking lots all over the city.
All…over…the…city. Man! She could have caught a bus that would have dropped her within walking distance of the motel. Too late now. She slumped into her seat.
Grady rolled his head toward her. “Sorry.”
Was Grady clairvoyant? “What for?”
“Shoo’s an idiot.”
Huh. Grady’s relationship wisdom wasn’t so distorted, after all.
She shifted in her seat to face him. “Why do you say that?”
“He can’t see that you’re the one who’s go
od for him.”
“Have you met Christine?”
“No, but from what I’ve heard, she’s pretty—”
“That’s an understatement. She’s gorgeous.”
“I was going to say, pretty disinterested in golf.”
“Oh.” She felt better already.
Shoo had told her Christine didn’t want to be married to a golfer—which could have changed now—but Shoo hadn’t said Christine cared nothing about golf.
Grady crossed his ankle over his knee. “To be honest, I also heard she’s beautiful. But Shoo said she couldn’t take the golf.”
“Go back a bit. Why do you think I’m good for Shoo—other than I like golf?” She tried to sound I-don’t-care casual. She held her breath. If Grady only knew how much she needed to hear a reason to hope.
He studied her. “You think I’m shooting the breeze, don’t you? You’re certain I have no idea why you’re good for Shoo.”
“Stop stalling, then, and spit it out.”
“Because you bought his dream. You’re on board. You appreciate his gift. You kick his butt getting him in shape because he’s part of your dream…to help athletes.” He lifted his head from the seatback. “I know you said you wanted to teach kids golf, but aren’t kids potential adult athletes?” Before she could nod, he went on. “I love watching you two as partners when we play Hearts. You read each other like an old married couple.”
Wow. She hadn’t expected a good-reasons thesis. Were his explanations valid? “If I’m so good for him, why doesn’t he like me more than a buddy?”
“As I said, he’s an idiot. And, from things he’s said during this tour, he’s a little slow in the relationship department. After a year, he’s still raw from Christine dumping him. And right now, disadvantaged by a hand injury, he’s preoccupied with breaking into the PGA. Then, add to that, he’s been trying to convince his father he’s ready to take on the big, bad PGA. All in all, I think it’s easier for him to keep his relationships emotionally low.”
Wow. Grady was more in tune with people than she’d given him credit. She worked up a smile. “Since when did you become a psychologist?”
The Putting Green Whisperer Page 17
