“Goddammit,” he said. “My eye.”
“Oh my god,” I said, dropping the club to the grass. I covered my mouth with my hand. “I'm so sorry.”
“I was just gonna show you how your head was moving,” he said, his hands still hiding his eye. “I didn't know you were gonna swing again.”
“I'm so sorry,” I said, wincing. “I'm so sorry.”
He pulled his hands away and I gasped. There was a small cut just to the left of his eye and blood pulsed from it. The entire area under his eye was already swelling and starting to discolor.
“That bad?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“It's bleeding,” I said, nodding. My heart beat fast and I felt my palms slick up with sweat. “It looks...bad.”
“Feels worse,” he said, then looked at the blood in his hands. “I probably need to get someone to take a look at this. If you'll excuse me.” He put one hand back over his eye, picked up his discarded club with the other, and headed back toward the clubhouse.
I stood there, feeling helpless. I set the club back in the bag. Club, weapon, whatever it was. I rubbed my hands on my shorts and took a couple of deep breaths. Drops of blood from Cooper's eye dotted the grass near my feet and I felt my heart rate quicken again as I stared at the rust-colored specks.
Maybe I should've just stuck to pina coladas and the pool.
FIVE
I managed not to injure anyone else on my way back to my room. Guilt over Cooper's eye riddled me the rest of the afternoon and, instead of venturing out to check out the resort restaurants, I ordered room service and fell asleep with a beer on the nightstand, the TV turned to one of the movie channels.
I woke up the next morning, overtired because I'd been haunted by dreams of maiming people with golf clubs. I tried to be rational about it: I hadn't known he was going to duck behind me. He knew I was a beginner. He should've been more cautious around me. I tried a dozen different excuses for what had happened, but nothing made me feel better about the fact that I'd reciprocated a free golf lesson with a bleeding, black eye.
“Get over it, Jess,” I muttered as I hauled myself out of bed.
Easier said than done.
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and pressed the call button next to Mimi's name.
“Jess.” Her voice was warm, filled with a note of surprise.
I told her what had happened.
“Oh, man,” she said, stifling a giggle. “That just sucks.”
“I felt terrible,” I said, propping the pillows behind my head. “He was bleeding!”
“It could have been worse,” she said.
“How?”
“You could have hit him in the nuts.” She chuckled. “Pretty sure he'd rather have a bloody eye than lose his chance to father kids.”
I managed a smile. “Probably.”
“Listen, I gotta go,” she said, just as a child let out a blood-curdling scream. “Jacob needs a nap before I head out to the grocery store.”
I felt a sudden burst of homesickness. “Is he walking yet? Driving?”
She laughed again. “You've been gone three weeks, not sixteen years...”
“I know. Just feels like forever.”
“Only forty-nine more weeks to go,” she said.
She said a quick goodbye and hung up and I tried not to think of her last statement and the fact that it sounded more like a prison sentence than a dream vacation.
I grabbed a mocha from a tiny coffee shop in the lobby and brought it back to my room. I gulped it down, brushed my teeth and decided I'd avoid the golf range today. There were plenty of pools to visit and I was pretty sure I couldn't injure anyone by sitting in the shallow end.
I ventured out of my room for the second time that morning, to a different pool this time, one with a couple of curvy water slides and a zero entry area. The heat was already rolling in and the water felt cool and refreshing. Another cheerful girl found me sitting in the shallow water and offered to bring me a breakfast burrito and a glass of orange juice. Ten minutes later, I was wrapped in a towel, sitting beneath an umbrella, eating a sausage and egg burrito.
“You're an early bird,” a familiar voice said behind me.
“I like the morning quiet,” I said to Eric, the guy from the front desk.
“Am I ruining that?” he asked.
“No, not really.”
He rested his hand on the back of the chair across from me. “May I?'
I hesitated, then nodded.
He pulled the chair back. He had an exact replica of the outfit he'd worn the day before – navy blazer, white shirt, khaki pants. His blond hair was still damp and slicked back away from his face.
“So,” he asked, taking a seat. “Enjoying yourself so far?”
“I am,” I said, cutting off a chunk of the burrito.
“Good,” he said, nodding. “Anything we can do to help out?”
“Nope.”
“Anything I can do?” he asked with a grin.
I took a sip of my orange juice. “You're trying really hard, aren't you?”
“Am I?”
“I don't think the word subtle is part of your vocabulary. Have you heard of that word? Should I define it for you?”
“Oh, I've heard of it,” he said, crossing his legs at the knees, his smile deepening. “I'm just not a fan of it.”
“Clearly.”
“You're only here for a week,” he pointed out. “I don't have much time to waste, now do I?”
I pointed my fork at him. “Maybe you're already wasting it. Just by talking to me.
Unfazed, the smile stayed. “Ah, come on. I'm harmless.”
“Harmless like a shark,” I muttered under my breath. His smile appeared again and I was pretty sure he'd heard my comment.
“Husband?” he asked, ignoring my statement. “Or boyfriend?”
I didn't respond and he stared at me expectantly.
I sighed. “Neither.”
“So you're available?” His voice sounded hopeful.
I set the fork down on my plate. “Are you for real?”
He pulled on his earlobe, then tucked his chin to his chest like he was trying to get a look at himself. “Far as I can tell.”
“I meant, is this whole act for real?”
“What act?”
“You can't be this dense. It's not possible.”
He smiled and settled back in the chair. “That feels like a vague compliment about my intelligence.”
“It wasn't,” I corrected him. “Do you do this every week? Find a single woman that checks in and follow her around like you're the paparazzi? Or am I just special?”
He laid a hand over his heart like he was wounded. “Now that just hurts. Why are you so skeptical?”
“Why are you so interested?” I countered.
“Well, you're attractive,” he said, a slow, sexy grin appearing.. “You just said you're single. Do I need more?”
I wanted to look away but I couldn't – not when his green eyes were locked on mine, his smile doing its best to disarm me. He was definitely great looking and my ego had been pumped.
But he did need more. After my time with Evan, the attention from Eric didn't feel real. There was no chemistry; he was just coming on to me because I was there and I was available. In a lot of ways, it was the perfect scenario. He was who Paige and Mimi had in mind when we'd concocted this trip. Hook up, have fun, be done.
I just wasn't feeling it, though.
“Yeah, I think so,” I finally said.
He grimaced. “Ouch. Hmm. Alright. I'll see if I can find a little more.”
“Let me ask you a question,” I said, draining the last of my orange juice. I was turned toward him but I was watching the blue water ripple behind him. “You do this a lot? And I'm not asking because I'm judging you or anything. I'm genuinely curious.”
“I told you,” he said. “You're attractive. You're—”
“No, cut the bullshit,” I said, shaking my h
ead. “If you wanna sleep with me – and I'm making no promises – I want the truth. Do you do this a lot?”
He studied me for a long moment, probably trying to decide whether I was serious or if I was trying to trick him into saying something embarrassing.
“Look, it's a good gig,” he finally said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “I like people. I like working the desk. I'm a grad student at ASU. If I can have a little fun in between classes, I take the opportunity, you know?” He smiled. “I wouldn't say I do this a lot, but if a pretty woman checks in and she's alone, I don't see anything wrong with striking up a conversation and letting nature take its course.”
He was smooth, I'd give him that. At least he was being honest with me. Upfront. I wasn't sure I was going to sleep with him, but at least I knew where I stood and what his expectations and experiences were.
I pushed back my chair. “I appreciate the honesty.”
“Yeah?” He smiled again and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “So maybe we can have a drink later? Talk some more?” He left the other things he was hoping would make it on the agenda unsaid.
I stood. “I doubt it. But like I said, I appreciate the honesty.”
“And I think you're playing hard to get.”
“Nope,” I said, walking around the table, heading for the water. “I actually am hard to get.”
SIX
I stayed at the pool for a couple of hours, alternating between lounging in the shallow water and hanging out under the umbrella. People slowly started to emerge from their hotel rooms after Eric left, bags of suntan lotion and pool toys in hand. Older kids headed for the two water slides and I briefly wondered why they weren't in school; it was mid-September, after all. A couple toddlers waded in at the zero entry end, a mom watching one, a dad watching the other. I didn't think they were partners or that they'd even come to the resort together but they spent a good portion of their time chatting. I watched them for a little while but they reminded me of Mimi and that made me miss home. By lunchtime, I was ready to get up and move around and get out of the sun.
I went back to my room, showered off the film of sunscreen coating my body and changed clothes. I'd thought about Cooper and his black eye off and on throughout the morning and, with nothing else to do, I decided to call for the shuttle to run me back over to the golf course. The same kid from the day before was behind the desk.
He shoved another pencil behind his ear. “You're back.”
I offered him a smile. “You think this place can take another afternoon of me?”
“Oh, for sure,” he said, leaning on the desk. “You had fun.”
“Yeah, right up until I maimed the teacher guy.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, well. Things happen sometimes.”
“I doubt he's ever taken a club to the face before,” I said, my cheeks reddening a little.
The kid laughed again. “Maybe. I don't know.”
“Is he around?” I asked. “Cooper?”
“I think he's out on a playing lesson,” he said, glancing at the screen in front of him. “I just got here, but I think he's out on the course with a student.”
“Oh, okay.” Waves of relief and disappointment washed over me.
“So you wanna hit some more?”
“Am I allowed?”
“We haven't banned you that I'm aware of,” he said, taking the pencil out from behind his ear and tapping the eraser against the desk top. “So, sure.”
He picked up the phone and asked someone to get me clubs. He hung up and pointed out the window. “All yours.”
“Thanks so much,” I said. I wondered how much they'd talked about me after I'd left.
I walked outside and it felt like I was entering a furnace. Sweat beaded on my forehead and the back of my neck as soon as the air hit me. I stopped in front of the misting fans, letting the spray attempt to cool me off. I glanced toward the range and saw the bag of clubs waiting and a shiny white pyramid of balls ready to be whacked.
I took a few practice swings and then set the ball on the grass and positioned myself like Cooper had shown me. I took the club back, swung easy and watched the ball sail up into the air and onto the range.
I went through the routine several more times, successfully hitting the ball each time. I felt less anxiety standing over the ball, the thought of missing completely starting to leave my head. I didn't have any grand ambitions of heading out on the course and playing an actual round of golf, but hitting the ball was turning out to be kind of fun.
After an hour, I'd cut the pyramid in half and I was drenched in sweat. I stepped onto the covered patio off the clubhouse and downed several plastic cups of water, the liquid an icy river down my throat. There was a stack of small hand towels next to the cooler and I took one and mopped my face off before turning back to the misters to let them help cool my skin. I was still the only one on the range and I wondered if it was because no one else was crazy enough to stand around in the heat and swing clubs.
I glanced toward the golf course. There were fewer carts today than yesterday but there were still people out playing. I shaded my eyes with my hand and squinted, trying to make out the figures closest to me. Two men, both wearing visors and khaki shorts, one dressed in a blue polo, the other in a gray one. I wondered if one of them was Cooper.
I didn't want to admit it but I was disappointed that he hadn't been at the range when I'd shown up. I wanted to see how his eye looked and apologize to him again. But I was also loathe to admit that I had enjoyed his company. He hadn't made too much fun of me and my atrocious golf skills; instead, he'd put me at ease and helped me figure out what I was doing wrong with my swing. And I'd rewarded him by clocking him in the head.
I walked back to the pyramid and ten minutes later, I heard the patio open and voices filter out. I smiled as I hit a perfect shot, at least by my standards, a ball that jumped in the air and then bounced a couple of times in the grass after it landed. The voices drifted behind me and out to my right, heading for the far end of the range and, for one brief moment, I thought maybe Cooper had returned from the course and was getting ready for a lesson the range.
I turned in that direction.
A guy in his forties with a red visor and a gut that couldn't be hidden by a tight red golf shirt was standing next to a pyramid of balls. A resort employee was standing nearby, sporting the same golf shirt and shorts Cooper had worn the day before.
But it wasn't Cooper. It was another teacher.
And I was disappointed again.
I half-heartedly hit a couple more balls but I couldn't focus. I didn't know if it was the heat that was sapping my energy or the fact that the guy in the red visor groaned loudly every time he missed a swing. Whatever the tipping point was, I ignored the last few balls sitting in front of me, slid my clubs back in the bag and headed back into the clubhouse.
“How'd it go?” the kid behind the desk asked. An open bottle of Coke sat next to him, along with a half-eaten bag of Cheetos.
“Not bad.”
“It's pretty hot out there,” he said. He picked up his soda with cheese-stained fingers and aimed it in my direction. “You're a little red. You get some water?”
“Yeah, I did,” I said. I opened the refrigerated case across from the counter and pulled out a Diet Coke. “Can I charge this to my room or do I need to pay cash?
“Charging is fine,” he said, and I handed him my key card.
I twisted off the lid and took a long drink. “Hey, did Cooper ever show up?”
He nodded. “He came back with his lesson about fifteen minutes after you went out.”
I hid my frown by taking another swig of soda. “Oh. So I missed him.”
“Yeah, guess so,” the kid said, shrugging. “Dave's running the rest of the lesson out there now.”
I glanced out the window at the grunting red visor guy. “So that was the guy he was teaching?”
“Yep. But Coop brought him in and passed him off to Dave. Said he was
beat and Walker deserved someone fresh for the remainder of the lesson.”
Or he'd seen me out on the range and run for his life.
“Okay,” I said. I screwed the lid back on and hoisted my bag over my shoulder. “Well, tell him I was here. And that I hope his eye is okay.”
“Oh, he saw you,” the kid said. He reached for a Cheeto. “Through the window. But then he had to get going. I'll tell him you said that, though.”
I felt the heat rise in my face. I didn't blame him for not wanting to have anything to do with me, but it still stung.
“You gonna be back tomorrow?” the kid asked. “Maybe go out on the course?”
I shook my head. “I don't think so. But thanks anyway.”
SEVEN
I got back to the room, showered for the second time that day and laid down on the bed beneath the ceiling fan, letting my towel fall away so the breeze could cool my skin. The heat had sapped me of my energy and I only meant to close my eyes for a minute. A car horn startled me and I blinked and glanced at the clock and saw it hadn't been a few minutes; it had been almost an hour since I'd collapsed on the bed. I jumped to my feet, determined not to waste any more of the day. I ran a brush through my almost-dry hair, pulled on a yellow sundress and headed down to find something to eat.
I settled for a tiny Mexican place near the U-shaped pool close to the lobby area. Soft mariachi music played as the hostess, a small woman with a thick black ponytail, led me to an empty table. I stole a quick glance at the other customers and felt a twinge in my gut when I realized they were all couples. I didn't mind traveling alone but, for some reason, it felt a little awkward sitting down to dinner by myself. I toyed with ordering my food to go but quickly pushed that idea out of my head. There was no shame in eating alone.
I was through half a plate of enchiladas and a strawberry margarita when Eric slid into the chair across from me.
“Hey again,” he said, smiling.
I sipped my margarita.
“I'm not here to try to pick you up,” he said. “Promise. Just thought I'd see how your dinner is.”
“It's good,” I said. It really was – the enchilada sauce and melted cheese were the perfect compliment to the frosty margarita I was drinking. “Or maybe I'm just starving from being out in the heat.”
Love In Arizona (The Love In 50 States Series Book 3) Page 3
