by Mara Jacobs
Barclay seemed not to notice Darío’s bristle – or ignored it – and kept on. “My God, but I’d like to get my hands on her. Think I’ll give it a whirl when we’re done here. Lord knows I need something soft to lay my head on to take the sting out of this awful round. Those lovely tits seem just the thing.” Barclay was four over to Darío’s now four under.
Darío couldn’t describe the flash of emotion that went through him when he thought of Barclay’s clammy hands on his blonde. He chastised himself for the thoughts, but could not escape them. She wouldn’t fall for some lame line that Barclay was likely to offer up, would she? He smiled to himself, thinking of how he’d assigned a deep intelligence and good taste to a woman he’d never met. Still, he knew his Swede - as he’d come to think of her - would not be fool enough to buy whatever Barclay Ives was selling.
Chad Curtis putted out, ending the round. The gallery had grown as the hour grew later, with more locals wishing well to their hometown boy. The cheers from the crowd were loud and boisterous for one of their own. They were also kind to Darío, appreciative of the stellar round he’d shot.
Chad had shot even par, playing very well for his first round as a professional in front of a nerve-inducing, hometown crowd. Darío had ended up at four under, the best round he’d shot in nearly a year. Barclay finished at four over. Unless he had the round of his life tomorrow, Barclay would probably miss the cut, making an early exit from the tournament. Never one to be cruel, Darío was nonetheless cheered by that thought.
The three golfers made their way to the scorer’s tent, which was actually a trailer, and checked, then signed their official scorecards. When they came out, they went to the ropes that led from the trailer to the clubhouse doors, giving the golfers a straight shot through the crowd. The ropes were always lined with autograph and memorabilia seekers. Darío typically gave a half dozen balls away to children after each round, making sure he gave one to any child who had followed his group during his round.
Half of the crowd went after Chad, which was only natural, him being a local. The other half went after Darío as crowds still did, even though Darío had not played well the last two years. Due to winning three majors, albeit several years ago, his name still carried a certain cache among golf fans.
Darío started to sign his name on hats and programs as he slowly made his way along the ropes, keeping an eye on Barclay who was searching the crowd for the Swede. He knew the second Barclay spotted her, following Barclay’s beady eyes to the Swede.
She stood away from the crowd, her eyes not following Barclay, but following Darío. He had thought he’d felt her eyes on him during his round, but it was hard to tell with her wearing that hat. She’d taken the hat off and it slapped lightly against her thigh. Her face was even more arresting than Darío had imagined. Stunning cheekbones, a cool beauty reminiscent of a woman his mother adored, Grace Kelly.
And she was looking straight at him.
The piercing blue of her eyes made the pen in his hand slide off the paper he was signing. She seemed to sense his reaction, because her head tilted back, as if their connection had been physical.
He finished the autograph and handed it back to the man who looked puzzled when he saw the squiggly lines go off the edge of his program. Darío made toward the Swede. She was several steps beyond the crowd and to get to her Darío would either have to leave the safety of the ropes and brave the crush of the crowd, or somehow wave her over, through the avid autograph seekers, to the ropes.
While he was trying to figure out the best plan of action, the Swede’s attention was drawn away by Barclay, who had already left the ropes and was at her side, touching her arm. Darío saw her stiffen at the touch, and was pleased to see her drop a cool façade on her beautiful face as Barclay made his play. He saw her head shaking no, at first slightly, then a bit more emphatically. She finally pointed to the woman she’d been walking with.
The woman was along the ropes not far from where Darío stood, talking intently with Chad Curtis. They seemed to be making plans to meet later. Chad was giving her directions to a restaurant and they both agreed on a time for later that evening. Darío couldn’t help overhearing the directions to the meeting place as disappointment washed over him at the realization that the women had been following his threesome because of Chad Curtis.
He looked back toward the Swede, who was finally getting Barclay to take the hint. As Barclay made his way back to the ropes, the Swede looked back at Darío, seemingly not surprised to find Darío still looking at her. She rolled her eyes at Darío, as if to let him in on her amusement of Barclay. Darío grinned, sharing the Swede’s humor, and watched as she rejoined her friend.
As the two women turned to leave the course, Darío quickly tried to commit the directions Chad Curtis had given the Swede’s friend to memory.
It was time to try a new place for dinner.
Chapter Three
This is a game of misses. The guy who misses the best is going to win.
-Ben Hogan, professional golfer
You couldn’t really even call the Armadillo a restaurant. It was no more than a dive bar that happened to serve food. The chairs stuck to the floor, as did your shoes. The bartender had a front tooth missing. Her husband, also behind the bar, didn’t look much better. George Strait blared out of the jukebox.
Katie loved it.
Plus, they made the most incredible Margaritas.
Her first one went down fast. Too fast, but after a full day in the hot Texas sun walking a golf course that was over five miles long, the cool drink slid down her parched throat with ease. The salt on the rim of the glass stung her sunburned lips. She’d slathered enough sunscreen on her skin to escape the pink sting of sunburn, but she’d forgotten about her lips. The ice in the glass soothed the sting of the salt and the drink numbed her in all kinds of ways. She kept her mouth near or in the glass as she listened to Lizzie and Chad talk business.
She had tried to beg off, told Lizzie she’d order room service at the hotel, but to no avail. Lizzie was insistent that Katie join her and Chad.
Chad had flattered Katie by making an attempt to hit on her. Over the years, she’d gotten the graceful brush off down pat and Chad didn’t seem to mind her subtle rejection. He only shrugged and mentioned that a bunch of his hometown buddies who still lived in the area would probably be stopping by later to help him celebrate his first official start as a PGA Tour player.
The thought of a bunch of twenty-one year old Texas yahoos in celebratory mode made Katie’s second Margarita slide down as smoothly as the Hank Williams song that now played on the jukebox.
“I love this place,” she yelled. She was trying to be heard over Hank, but by the way Lizzie and Chad’s heads bolted up, she figured she’d overshot her mark.
Lizzie eyed Katie’s near-empty glass. “Careful, KitKat, those aren’t made of water, you know.”
Katie ignored her friend and instead leaned her head against the back of the chair, feeling her hair stick to something that she didn’t want to think about. She let the warm buzz of the drink glide through her body, matching the heat the sun had left on her skin.
The music moved from Hank to Patsy, and Katie hummed along to “Crazy”. She could hear Lizzie and Chad discussing business, but only made out snatches of Lizzie’s pitch.
Blah blah blah, national exposure. Blah blah blah world arena. Blah blah blah part of our family of athletes. Blah blah blah first golfer to be represented by….
She had no doubt Lizzie would land Chad Curtis as an account at Hampton PR. Or, Hampton and Associates, as it had been known for several months since Lizzie had taken on partners to free herself up to move back to the Copper Country.
To marry Finn. To become stepmother to his children. To probably become mother to his child someday. To be happy.
Happy. The condition seemed foreign to Katie as she tried to remember the last time she’d been truly happy.
Was she happy seven months ago, when
she didn’t know about Ron and Amber? When she’d thought her marriage safe? Safe. That was the word that she came up with when thinking about her marriage pre-bombshell. Safe, not happy.
So, if not happy seven months ago, when? Her mind began twirling a calendar back in her head, almost like the shuffling of a Rolodex containing years, images, incidents. Some elusive memory seemed almost within reach when she was pulled out of her reverie by a deep, definitely male voice coming from behind her chair.
“Hello, Chad. Apparently we didn’t spend enough time together already today, for here we are again.”
There was humor in the voice. The lilting Spanish accent and deep voice sent the same current through Katie as it had earlier when he’d wished his fellow players well on the first tee.
Katie’s head sprung forward, some of her hair staying behind, indeed stuck to the chair as she’d feared. Her hands scrambled to free herself, but the movement was awkward, and before she was able to complete the task, the same voice said, “Allow me.” Her hair was disentangled from whatever had made the back of the chair sticky to begin with. Katie didn’t even want to begin to imagine what that substance could possibly be.
Chad rose from his seat, his hand stretched out over Katie’s head. “Hola, Darío, I didn’t know you’d be here tonight. Not too many people know about this place.”
A strong, brown forearm reached past Katie’s head to shake Chad’s hand. “You forget, I have been on Tour many years. There aren’t many good restaurants that I have not been told about.”
At the phrase “good restaurnat” being used to describe the Armadillo, Katie and Lizzie exchanged smiles across the table from each other.
“Darío, Binky, I’d like you to meet Lizzie Hampton-Robbins and Katie Lipton,” Chad said, indicating the two women. “Lizzie, Katie, this is…”
“Maki,” Katie interrupted Chad.
“Excuse me?” Chad asked, looking at Katie, not quite sure what she meant.
“Maki,” she said again. At Chad’s questioning look she added, “Katie Maki, not Lipton. Maki.”
Chad was apologetic. “I’m sorry, I must have misheard Lizzie this morning.”
“No, you heard her right, it’s not your mistake. And it’s not Lipton, it’s Maki. Katie Maki,” she said. She held out her hand as she swiveled in her seat, and came face to face with Darío Luna.
Well, not quite face to face, more like hand to crotch.
Her hand, held out to shake, came into direct contact with two-time Masters winner Darío Luna’s penis.
His “oomph” and her simultaneous “oohh” stunned the rest of the table until the man standing next to Darío said, “If that’s your idea of a greeting, luv, let me introduce myself.”
It lightened the moment, and all laughed except for Katie and Darío who couldn’t stop staring at each other.
“I’m so sorry…”
“I saw you on the course…”
They both spoke at the same time. Both put their heads down, flustered, then both tried again.
“I enjoyed watching…”
“No apology necessary…”
This time they both laughed. Darío held up his hand for Katie to go ahead. “I am so sorry,” she said, indicating her hand and his crotch, which only furthered her embarrassment, and she groaned. “Please, you speak.”
He laughed. “I was going to say, no need to apologize, but now you have done it twice. Also, I was going to say I saw you on the course today. Did you enjoy the round?”
Katie nodded her head, pleased, but not surprised that Darío remembered her. He had, after all, made eye contact with her afterward. She had been about to go over and introduce herself to him and congratulate him on a fine round when that awful Barclay Ives started hitting on her. “Yes. I enjoyed it very much. You had a great day.”
He waved his hand, as if to brush away her compliment. She felt the breeze it created across her cheek. It felt cool against her flushed skin.
“Your approach shot on thirteen was brilliant,” she said.
Chad, Lizzie and the caddy turned their heads to Katie in surprise.
“Thank you, but I must confess that the outcome was mostly luck on that shot. Luck and a good bounce.”
“You’re much too modest,” Katie said.
The man next to Darío snorted. “Modest? Guv here, modest? Not bloody likely. By the way, I’m Binky, and you, as you said are Katie. Not Lipton, but Maki, right?”
He was much taller than Darío, but that was not hard to accomplish. He was lanky, downright skinny, with none of Darío’s brooding strength. He was probably a good ten years older than Darío, though his weathered face made him look even older. He wore Dockers and an oxford shirt. Much more dressed up than he had been earlier on the course when he’d worn shorts and a golf shirt under the requisite apron that all caddies wore.
He was obviously British and Katie suspected he was playing up his thick accent. She already liked him immensely.
“Right, Binky, Katie Maki,” she chuckled. “Will you gentlemen join us?” she asked, then remembered that it wasn’t her party to invite people to and looked to Lizzie and Chad for reassurance.
Chad jumped to Katie’s aid. “Yes. Please, join us.”
Binky started to grab for a fifth chair from a neighboring table, but Darío cut him off. “No, thank you, but please enjoy your dinner.” He moved beyond them, to a table farther down the length of the bar. A surprised Binky gave Katie a shrug and followed his boss.
Katie looked back at Chad and saw him give a sigh of what looked like relief. “I’m sorry, Chad, should I not have done that?”
He shook his head. “No, that’s okay. It never occurred to me to invite them to join us. I’m glad you did. I’m just glad they said no, that’s all.”
“Oh. Don’t you like Darío?” Lizzie asked Chad.
Katie realized she was holding her breath. She didn’t know why, but it was very important to her that Chad not say anything bad about Darío.
“Oh no, it’s not that at all. It’s just, I was so nervous to begin with about playing today, and then to find out yesterday that I’d be paired with Darío Luna. I mean, my God, I was eight years old when I watched him win his first Masters, and now I’m playing with him?”
Katie and Lizzie exchanged “we’re so old” glances with each other as they realized how old they had been when they watched Darío Luna win his first Masters. It was a lot older than eight.
“But he was so cool. Even asked me questions about growing up in Texas, if I played this course a lot, stuff like that,” Chad said. “He was totally awesome, but I don’t know if I could handle having to make dinner conversation with him. I think I’d be too nervous.”
Chad’s cool and totally awesome vocabulary made Katie feel even older than realizing she was Darío Luna’s age, not anywhere near Chad Curtis’. She tried to alleviate that sting with some more Margarita only to find her glass had somehow mysteriously emptied.
She waved her empty glass toward Blanche, now on a first name basis with the bartender. Blanche nodded and gave a, “Comin’ up, sweetie,” accompanied by a toothless grin.
Katie returned the smile. She loved this place. Women who looked like Blanche seldom called women who looked like Katie sweetie. Usually it was something like “stuck-up bitch” murmured low enough to hear, but not loud enough to be able to comment on.
But Blanche didn’t think she was a stuck-up bitch. No, Blanche called her sweetie. She even patted Katie’s head as she brought her the Margarita. “Pace yourself, sweetie,” she said. “I can tell you ain’t from Texas, and these here is Texas Margaritas. They pack a wallop.”
Katie was touched at Blanche’s concern. In fact, the warm glow of the liquor made her realize that no one in her entire life had ever cared for her as much as Blanche The Bartender did. Blanche loved her. Just look at the lovely drink she’d brought all the way over to the table for Katie. If that wasn’t love, what was?
Katie got out o
f her chair, not an easy task, swayed just a little, quickly tried to cover it, and launched herself into a startled Blanche’s arms for a huge hug.
“Oh Blanche, thank you. Thank you for taking care of me. Thank you for understanding me. You know, I think you’re the most wonderful person. I want you to know that.” She pulled away, but still clung to Blanche’s arms. Blanche held Katie’s gaze as if Katie were imparting deep words of wisdom. Katie felt she was. “Blanche, I think I should move to Texas. Is everyone in Texas like you Blanche? So lovely? So understanding?” She looked at Lizzie and Chad, whose eyes had grown big with amusement. “Lizard, I’m moving to Texas.”
Lizzie only nodded, but Katie was already turned back to Blanche. “I will notify you the minute I relocate to Texas, Blanche. You will be my first call.”
Blanche smiled, disentangling herself from Katie, got her seated once again and then turned to Lizzie and Chad and asked, “Did y’all want another one?”
At the other end of what could loosely be called a restaurant, Darío watched Katie hug the bartender and wondered if perhaps he had been mistaken and she was from around here after all. Then he saw her sway as she sat back down, her friend’s hand instinctively reaching out to offer support, which was not heeded, and he realized the scene was one of a grateful drinker to an amused bartender.
He smiled. Katie Maki. Not Lipton. Maki.
So, she had either recently gotten married or divorced. Judging from the vehemence in her voice, and the bare ring finger, he guessed divorced. And the bitterness that he’d detected also led him to believe that perhaps the divorce had not been a friendly one.
Darío wondered what kind of fool would let a woman who looked like that walk out of his life? Her hand at his crotch now made more sense after seeing her sway as she stood to hug the bartender. Maybe she was a drinker? Was that the cause of her divorce?
He didn’t think so. There was something almost…virgin… about her drunken movements, like it was a state she was not familiar with.
