The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  “Thank you,” Morgan said into her neck. “And you know I feel exactly the same way, about us being worth it, right?”

  Adrienne nodded, and her heart swelled with the intensity of Morgan’s words. “Yes, I do. And no, I haven’t changed my mind about that recording of Jenny’s before you ask that question.”

  Morgan chuckled. “Dammit, we’ve only been dating a couple of weeks. How can you already be reading my mind?”

  Lifting her head and gazing at Morgan, Adrienne smiled. “Well, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think last night went a long way toward building some kind of connection between us, hm?”

  It was as if Morgan melted in her arms. “Oh yeah…” A dreamy look stole over her face, and Adrienne laughed. “Okay.” Morgan sighed. “I respect your decision on this point.”

  “Good.” Adrienne kissed Morgan’s nose, then pulled away. “Now, go on, go.”

  Morgan rolled her eyes but smiled, then clambered off the bed. She retrieved her pants and shirt from the other side of the bed and eased into them before slipping on her shoes.

  “Get some more sleep,” Morgan said, gazing at her with an expression that sent tingles tumbling over every inch of Adrienne’s bare skin.

  “I will. And you. We need you fully rested for this afternoon.” Her stomach clenched at the thought—the final round, yet another chance, a very good chance, for Morgan to win her first major.

  Morgan grinned. “Trust me,” she said, stretching her arms wide. “I’m feeling very relaxed already.”

  Adrienne shook her head and laughed softly. “Get out of here.”

  It was another gorgeous day, and after being confined to her room for over twelve hours—confined in the most delicious way, of course—Adrienne decided to call Daniel from somewhere quiet outside the hotel complex. It was 6:00 a.m. back in New York, but she knew he’d answer.

  She grabbed a large takeout coffee from the hotel’s espresso bar, put on sunglasses and a wide-brimmed summer hat, and left the hotel by one of the doors that was used to access the gardens. It might have been overcautious, but she had no idea how big this story was being treated by the press and no desire to detract from Morgan’s big day.

  God, I hope they leave her alone to get on with her game.

  As she walked the perimeter of the gardens toward the main gates, her mind insisted on teasing her with images and memories from the night before. She hadn’t really believed she’d be able to do this again and certainly not with someone whose body was, quite frankly, a work of art. That first time had all been rather a rush, the floodgates of her desire crashing open so rapidly she couldn’t help but touch Morgan once she was laid out before her in all her glory.

  But the second time… She shuddered at the thrill that ran through her. Yes, the second time had been…wondrous. She’d taken her time, learned Morgan’s body, her responses, her needs. Touching and tasting Morgan had driven Adrienne wild with desire. When Morgan had then returned the favor tenfold, Adrienne had fallen asleep moments after her own extraordinary climax.

  Their physical relationship, while still fresh and new, already matched their emotional connection in ways Adrienne could never have imagined.

  And that only made what she was about to do easier, much to her surprise.

  She found a small empty churchyard at the far end of the village and sat on a rough wooden bench overlooking a rose garden before pulling out her phone.

  Daniel answered on the first ring.

  “Adrienne, good morning.” His usually strident tone sounded flat and tired.

  “Good morning, Daniel.” She inhaled—there really was no point in prolonging this. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not calling you back sooner. I needed some thinking time.” He grunted, and she took that as her cue to continue. “I assume you saw the article yesterday evening that Sport Today dot Net put out?”

  “I did.” He sighed. “Adrienne, I—”

  “Daniel, forgive me for interrupting, but I think I can make this a very easy conversation for you.” She paused for a moment.

  Last chance to change your mind. Are you sure?

  An image of Morgan laughing in her arms the evening before was her answer. “Whatever that article may imply,” she continued, her voice firm, “what has happened between Morgan and I is not a sordid affair, with one of us being sleazily pursued by the other or forced into a situation they didn’t want. We’re in a relationship. A very committed one. However, I know that such relationships are frowned on in our business and that the resulting publicity is bad for TC Productions. I’ve therefore decided that if you and the rest of the board want my resignation, you’ll have it first thing tomorrow.”

  “You… What? You’d quit? For her?”

  She’d never heard him sound so shocked. “If that’s what it takes. I’m certainly not going to stop seeing Morgan, so if you make me choose, I’m afraid TC loses.”

  There was a moment of silence, then Daniel cleared his throat. “Let me talk to some people. Adrienne, you’re one of our best. I’d hate to see this one lapse of judgement—”

  She bristled at his words. “We fell in love, Daniel. I’d hardly call that a lapse in judgement.”

  Then she realized what she’d said and nearly choked on the emotion that coursed through her chest. In love? Well, yes, I suppose I am. Heat raced through her at the affirmation.

  “Okay, okay, poor choice of words perhaps. But listen, don’t do anything crazy, you hear? Give me today. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

  Before she could reply, he hung up.

  Her hands trembled as she shoved her phone back into her purse. When it was safely stowed away, she slumped against the hard wooden back of the bench.

  I’m in love. Good grief.

  Harry stared at her as he approached, and Morgan stood up straight under his intense scrutiny.

  “What happened?” he asked as he drew level. “I mean, I know that dick Tom Harrison wrote that story about you and Adrienne, but anything else I need to know about?”

  Morgan shook her head. “Definitely not. But it’s all good. Trust me.”

  Harry snorted but said nothing, and Morgan hoped that was the end of it, at least until after the round.

  She glanced around at the bustle and buzz of the final few players heading out on their rounds. The leaderboard showed no great movements from the players behind her, although Charlie was already one shot better off from yesterday’s score, and Morgan fervently wished her friend a great round. They’d swapped a couple of text messages over breakfast and planned to meet for a drink at the tournament close.

  “Morgan! Morgan! Got anything to say in response to the story about you and the woman from—”

  “Oh, shut up, will you? You press are all the same. Scum, every last one of you,” a woman shouted.

  Morgan looked round at the commotion. A reporter she didn’t recognize leaned over the rope separating the players from the crowd with what looked like a recording device in his hand thrust in her direction.

  Next to him, and clearly the one who’d interrupted his attempt at questioning Morgan about Adrienne, stood a tall, heavyset woman with close-cropped blonde hair. She glared contemptuously at the reporter, who looked more than a little nervous at the woman’s commanding presence.

  “Yeah, get lost, you arsehole!” a man yelled. “Leave her alone!”

  “Yeah!” yelled a chorus of other members of the crowd.

  Morgan smiled and nodded briefly at the blonde-haired woman. She gave Morgan a thumbs-up, then maneuvered herself to stand in front of the reporter, her arms folded across her wide chest.

  Chuckling, Morgan decided it might be best if she stepped away from the situation and motioned to Harry, who grinned, to follow her over to the assembly area behind the first tee.

  They ran through their usual preparations for the start of a
round. Morgan tried to ignore the flutter of excitement in her stomach at what today could mean. She hadn’t, in fact, gone back to sleep after she’d snuck back to her room—unseen, as far as she could tell. Her excitement level was too great, both at what today might bring but also, and perhaps even greater, at what she and Adrienne had shared.

  She exhaled slowly, her gaze losing focus. God, that had been…incredible. She hadn’t known it was possible to feel so many wonderful things all at once with another human being. Everything physical seemed amplified by their emotional connection and vice versa.

  “Hey, where are you?”

  Harry’s rough voice interrupted her musings, and she turned to look at him, embarrassed to have been caught daydreaming.

  “Come on, Spencer, I know you’re in love and all, but this is where you should be right now.” He pointed in the direction of the course. “And nowhere else.”

  She nodded. “You’re right. Sorry, Harry.”

  He blinked at her quick acceptance of his scolding. “Look, I ain’t heartless.” He smiled conspiratorially. “I’m happy for you. But here and now, this is—”

  Morgan held up her hand. “I’m good. I get it. I’m here.”

  “Well, that’s, um, good.”

  Laurie Schweitzer appeared at Morgan’s side with no warning. Morgan only just avoided jumping in response.

  “Spencer,” Laurie said, her eyes narrowed.

  “Laurie,” Morgan replied, smiling brightly, refusing to play Laurie’s stupid game of only calling her opponents by their last name when on the course.

  Laurie huffed and stepped back. “Better have brought your A game today,” she said, a sly smile splitting her lips. “’Cause I am so ready to take you down.”

  Morgan shrugged, knowing her nonchalance would drive Laurie insane. “May the best player win,” she said and tapped a two-finger salute off the edge of her sun visor.

  Laurie scowled and turned her back on her.

  Harry looked like he was going to give himself a hernia, trying not to laugh too loudly.

  “How are you holding up?” Bree asked as she linked her arm with Adrienne’s.

  They’d agreed to walk the course again together but had also agreed to stay well out of Morgan’s sight, even if it meant they wouldn’t necessarily have the best vantage point to see all of her shots.

  Adrienne was grateful for Bree’s offer. They’d bumped into each other in the lobby of the hotel when she’d returned from her call with Daniel, and Bree’s sunny disposition was the perfect tonic to lift Adrienne’s mood.

  Jenny was with the crew today—Adrienne had stepped back, leaving her in charge. For all she knew, come tomorrow morning she would no longer be involved in this project anyway, so it made sense to have Jenny take the lion’s share of the work today, just in case she needed to finish it all off in France. Adrienne was actually relieved. She wasn’t sure she could have concentrated on her work at all today, given how tense she was about Morgan’s chances to finally win a major.

  “I’m nervous,” Adrienne admitted.

  Bree’s laugh was light. “I know! I don’t know if I want to watch or not.”

  “Oh, no, you have to!” Adrienne smiled. “What if she does it?”

  “I know.” Bree sighed and shook her head. “When she does, I really want to be here to see it.”

  “Me too.”

  “Okay, then let’s do it!”

  They walked round the back of the crowd that lined the first tee. People were ten deep in places, and it lifted Adrienne’s heart to see so many spectators invested in the women’s game. After squeezing themselves into a group who occupied a slightly higher vantage point to the left side of the tee, they craned their necks to see the first shots from Morgan and Laurie.

  They watched Morgan’s ball sail off down the center of the fairway.

  “Oh, that’s a great start,” Bree said.

  “Phew.” Adrienne mimed wiping her brow, and Bree chuckled. “How do you get used to this? I mean, you watched Gordy all those years too.”

  Bree was quiet for a moment. “You know, I believe it’s even worse watching Morgan. Something about her being my child. I feel the same when I watch Jack play too.”

  They headed off with the rest of the crowd once Laurie Schweitzer had also successfully teed off. Adrienne was inordinately grateful she wasn’t going to endure the next three hours or so on her own.

  “All right,” Harry said, crouching down next to Morgan as she lined up her eight-foot putt at the sixteenth. “This one turns about halfway. See that little break just there?” He pointed, and she nodded. “That’s your sweet spot. Hit that and you’ll be good.”

  He stood up and walked away without waiting for Morgan to say anything. She didn’t need to, though—she and Harry had been completely in the same thinking zone all day.

  Laurie had caught Morgan up from her two-shot deficit overnight, but Morgan was still calm. They were now on the same score, eight under for the tournament, having both played exceptional golf for the last three hours. Morgan had politely applauded her opponent’s good shots, including the two incredible putts she’d sunk on the tenth and twelfth to tie their scores. Laurie, however, the longer the round had gone on, had become nastier and grumpier. She openly scowled when Morgan sunk a birdie and scoffed if Morgan missed a green or hit a slightly wayward tee shot.

  Harry had whispered early on, just once, that Morgan should “ignore her,” and Morgan had done just that, focusing solely on her game and how damn good it felt today. She’d made par or birdie on every hole, not a single dropped shot, and that felt amazing. Now she had this shot to go back into the lead by one. Laurie had just missed a ten-foot putt for birdie and would more than likely make her par, given her ball had finished a scant twelve inches from the hole.

  Morgan stood and took a couple of deep breaths, then walked up and addressed the ball. A slight shimmy to her right improved her stance. A flex of her fingers improved her hold on the putter’s grip. Two more deep breaths calmed her mind. She swung back, then forward and knew the minute she’d hit it that another birdie was going on her card.

  The crowd shouted and applauded as the ball dropped into the cup. She calmly acknowledged their plaudits and grinned at Harry as she handed him the putter.

  “Good,” he said. “The seventeenth, remember, doesn’t need any heroics.” He handed her the driver and picked up the bag.

  She grinned even wider. Trust Harry not to go all gushy on her just because she was now back in the lead after sinking a tricky putt.

  The next hole belonged to Laurie, though, and Morgan had no problem applauding her, along with the rest of the crowd, when a brave third shot gave her a great chance for birdie, which she took with aplomb. Morgan made a comfortable par, and they were all tied again, heading to the last hole.

  “Oh, gosh, I don’t think I can watch!” Bree’s eyes were wide, and her hand clutched Adrienne’s arm.

  “I know what you mean.” Adrienne swallowed hard. This was ridiculously nerve-racking. Her stomach was tied in so many knots she didn’t think she’d be able to eat anything for the rest of the day.

  She sipped from her water before she and Bree headed off to the eighteenth tee. Thankful for the wide hat, both for keeping the sun off her face and ensuring she received no unwanted attention from anyone in the crowd, fans or reporters alike, she wiped at the back of her neck with a Kleenex. How could Morgan look so cool in this heat and under that pressure? Once again, Adrienne was in awe of her girlfriend.

  As they had done on each of the previous seventeen holes, Bree and Adrienne found a spot at the back of the crowd where they could just about see the top of Morgan’s head as she teed off, her ball chasing Laurie’s up the center of the fairway to nestle only five feet behind by the looks of it. As they had been for the whole round, Morgan and Laurie were neck-and-neck.


  The crowd surged around them, jogging up the pathways that lined the final hole in a multi-colored stream of humanity. Adrienne led Bree to follow them, but when they drew level with the spot from where the players would hit their second shots, she tugged on Bree’s arm to pull her to one side. Her heart pounded with the tension and excitement of the moment.

  “How about we go on ahead, try to get a good spot at the green? We’ve both got credentials that allow us to be close, and don’t you think for the final hole we should do that? We can still stay out of sight of Morgan so that she can focus, but I know I’d like to have the best view possible of what could be an incredible finish.”

  Bree’s smile was delightful. “That’s a wonderful idea!”

  And with that, she was off, pulling Adrienne along with her.

  Morgan watched her fourth shot fly over the creek at the ridiculously long eighteenth hole and then drop down from the sky toward the green.

  “Be right,” she muttered, her club clutched in her hand, eyes narrowed as she tracked the ball. “Come on, be right.”

  She hadn’t had the best lie after her third shot, somehow finding the one small patch of scuffed turf in the middle of the otherwise pristine fairway, which caused her ball to falter and stop suddenly.

  Laurie was already on the green with her fourth shot, about six feet away from the hole, so Morgan needed to get as close, if not closer, and—

  The groans and muted applause from the crowd told her before her own eyes did that she’d not managed that. From the looks of it, she was at least twenty feet away, if not longer.

  “Crap.”

  “It’s fine,” Harry said quietly as he approached to take the club from her hands. “Stay focused.”

  She gave him a smile, even though her stomach flooded with butterflies. They walked to the green, Morgan absentmindedly waving to the crowd who cheered her on.

  When she reached the plateau of the final green, she could see her ball was more like twenty-five feet from the hole. Long but not impossible. She stood, hands on hips, and surveyed the lie, the path her ball would have to take. It would be her turn to putt first, being the farthest from the hole.