I feel my eyes widen. Mallory always keeps our bets related to our golf game, so this is new.
Ava makes a face. “I told you I only like non-fiction!”
“That’s a situation I’m going to remedy if…no,when…I make this putt.“ Mallory smirks at her. “I’ve got a stack of romance novels with your name on it.”
“You like romance novels?” I blurt.
Mallory arches her brows. “Is that a problem?”
“No.” I scratch the back of my neck with her scorecard. “I didn’t know.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Bradley.”
I dip my chin, because…yeah.
“The question is…doyoulike romance novels?”
My lips twitch. “No comment.”
This is definitely something we’re going to revisit, Mallory and me. She’s looking at me like she knows my deep, dark secrets…or at least the secret that I like to read happily ever afters. I’m not ashamed of it. I just don’t broadcast it. But it feels like Mallory can see right through me.
Ava grins. “You’re on, Mal. What do we get if you miss?”
“How about if Mallory takes two or more shots to make the putt, then she has to wear her hair down at the Grand Masters,” I suggest.
Mallory’s eyes widen, and Ava and Zelda look confused.
“Would that be a penalty for her?” Zelda asks.
“She always wears her hair tied back.” I’m suddenly flushed. Have I revealed too much here? I think about my coach’s hair more than a player should, and I definitely just admitted as much on national TV. But, man, what I wouldn’t give to see Mallory’shair loose and down. “Maybe this will push her out of her comfort zone,” I add.
“Oh, okay, then…for Zelda, she has to go eye-liner free to the next bouquet ceremony,” Ava chimes in.
Zelda looks horrified.
“I’ll give you a chance to switch your loyalties, Zelda.” Mallory says it with a wry grin. “I know how much you love your cat eye.”
Zelda faintly touches the corner of her right eye where a perfect black slash angles back toward her ear. “I do.” She stands up straighter. “But I also think you’re going to make this putt. I’m sticking with Team Mallory.”
“Alright then, Mal.” I sweep my arm forward in ago-aheadmotion. “No pressure.”
“You kidding? Hair and makeup are on the line here, Bradley. The stakes could not be higher.” She’s got her head tipped down as she studies the ball and then the line she’s trying to follow to the pin. She sounds so deadpan again, and I can hear her sarcasm ringing loud and clear. My word, she’sfunny. I’m fighting a smile when she glances up and pins me with a challenging look. “Good thing I thrive under pressure.”
I arch a brow, and she smirks, looking back down. She takes two practice putts, following the same exact pre-putt routine she’s taught me to use, and then she taps the ball. It’s perfectly straight as it eases its way up the incline of the bridge and gains speed as it heads down the other side. It’s still on a perfect line to travel behind the waterfall. Ava and Zelda jog around to get a better look at the ball on its way to the hole. Mallory simply crouches in place so she can follow its track.
The ball curves ever so slightly as it makes it to the green area. This is where I was banking on Mallory failing. I’ve played this mini-golf course enough times to know that there’s a weird dip in front of this cup, and unless you hit your ball at exactly the right speed, it’s got no chance. If it’s coming in a hair too quickly, it’ll hit the dip and bounce over the cup. If you don’t give the puttenough juice, it will die in the dip of doom, not three inches from the hole.
“Come on, come on.” Mallory stands up and holds out her putter, as if willing the ball to go where she wants it to go.
I crane my neck so I can see the hole beyond the waterfall, and I’m in time to watch Mallory’s ball drop with a satisfyingplunkinto the cup.
Zelda whoops, and Ava’s jaw drops. “You are super human!” she yells from the other side of the putting green.
“And you’re going to read a romance novel!” Mallory calls back. She turns to me with a grin on her face. “Both of you.”
I shake my head. “Show off.”
I hand her the scorecard so she can record her hole-in-one. She takes the pencil and pauses with it hovering over the paper. Her gaze flits across the words I wrote. Simple words. But true.
