“Since golf is sort of my thing”—I pause as the women titter…and Mallory rolls her eyes—“I’ll be around to give you some pointers during your round. Let me know if you need any extra help.” I take my time and smile down the line at the women.
“This is your chance for quality time with Holland, doing something he enjoys. Make the most of it,” Chad gets back in his groove. He holds up a handful of blue bandanas. “Now, for the teams. Ladies, when I say your name, please join your teammates. First, the blue team. Mindy Sue, Britt, and Jennah.” The three of them step forward and take their bandanas and stand off to the side.
“And the red team. Mallory, Ava, and Zelda.” Chad holds out the red bandanas, and the three remaining women take one each.
I catch Mindy Sue’s mouth droop into a frown as she makes eye contact with Mallory. But then she spins and throws her arms around Jennah’s and Britt’s shoulders.
Vivian’s plan to keep Mindy Sue and Mallory apart is at play here, I see. I guess she wants to keep them off balance—or in competition. It’s weird to think about Mallory competing for me…mostly because she doesn’t want me. But whatever floats Vivian’s boat. Not my problem.
For what it’s worth, the remaining women appear to be, if not best friends at this point, at least friendly with each other. And mutually respectful. I appreciate that. I’ve watchedMost Eligible Misterwith my mom enough to know it’s not always the case. I distinctly remember watching the show with my mom in high school, and during one drama-filled shouting match between the contestants, my mom sighed and said, “If a woman can’t get along with other women, that’s a red flag. Find yourself a girl’s girl, Holland. You won’t be sorry about that.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant when I was a teenager. I remember thinking that I’d take any type of girl who was into me. But now I get it. If a person—woman or man—can’t make and keep friends, that doesn’t bode well for how easy they’ll be to live with. So much of friendship involves getting into someone else’s shoesand listening. Bearing with one another, and all that jazz. That’s something that matters to me.
Mallory bears with you.
The voice inside my head that is gunning for the role of Mallory’s biggest cheerleader is not helping me keep an open mind about the other women at the moment.
“Blue team. You’ll start at hole one. Red team, you’ll start at hole nine. May the best team win!” Chad claps, and the ladies cheer.
Mindy Sue, Britt, and Jennah linger near the hole we’re standing on while Vivian motions for the camera crew to shift and capture the events from different angles. Mallory and her team turn to go around to the far side of the course with a camera man and Callen.
“Wait!” Jennah says before they get too far. “I think we’d all benefit from a little golf lesson.”
She cozies up next to me, holding out her putter directly in front of her and closing one eye to stare down the shaft of it. “Holland, what pointers do you have for us? I want to win!”
Britt smiles gamely, and Mindy Sue nods. She’s leaning against her putter, and she looks polished and put together. She’s a weather woman, if I remember correctly, and she’s got that vibe going on today. Hair sprayed so not a strand is moving in the wind. Long-sleeved skin-tight green pullover and well-fitting joggers. Her tennis shoes are sparkling white. She looks camera ready. Of the three women on the blue team, she’s the one who I feel the most connection with. We had a good conversation on night one. She’s normal and funny, and if Mallory is friends with her, that’s about as good a vote of confidence as anyone can get.
“Great idea!” Vivian calls from off camera. “Holland, why don’t you walk them through some basic technique tips. Everyone crowd in.”
I step closer to Mindy Sue, and she smiles. I motion for her club. “Care to be my test dummy?”
“Sure.”
She steps up to the tee box, and I step in behind her. “May I?” I hold up my hands, waiting for her permission. When she nods, I put one hand on the back of her upper hip—keeping it at an appropriate height, mind you…I’m not trying to get handsy here.
“Your weight should be evenly distributed between both legs. You want your knees to be soft and your hips relaxed.” I gently press my fingers against Mindy Sue’s hip, and she bends her knees a couple times, bouncing into a ready position.
“Good.” I smile down at her from where I’m standing behind her.
She glances up at me and grins. “I like these lessons. What else you got for me?”
This is where I should be feeling some sort of spark, right? It’s how it always happens in the movies. In books. In my fantasies. I’m on a golf course—a mini one, but still—with my hands on a beautiful woman, showing her the ropes of the sport I love. This is the stuff dreams are made of.
Yet, as I smile back at Mindy Sue, I do a quick catalog of my feelings and…nothing.
My pulse isn’t kicking harder than usual. The smell of her shampoo—something vanilla-y—isn’t driving me crazy. I could just as easily not go on with this golf lesson right now.
What is wrong with me?
“Holland! Let’s keep going,” Vivian calls from off camera.
Shoot. I’ve been staring at Mindy Sue, vacantly, but still. Hopefully the cameras think I’m looking at her with affection and not with apathy.
“Right. Sorry.” I step back from Mindy Sue, keeping a palm resting on her lower back so it doesn’t look like I’m fleeing the scene. I glance around at the rest of the women. Everyone is looking at me, waiting for me to say whatever it is I’m going to say next—except for Mallory. She’s staring at where my hand is on Mindy’s back.
I clear my throat. “The goal is to keep your lower body as still as possible. Too much movement can cause your putt to deviate unnecessarily from your target. Right, Mallory?”
Her chin pops up, and her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”
