I nod slowly. The spell is broken. I’m trying to remember it’s a good thing. Because Mal made herself entirely clear—she sees me as a paycheck. I’m her boss. She’s my coach. It’s a working relationship that works, and I should be doing everything in my power to preserve it…not call it all into question because I can’t stop thinking about how it would feel to kiss her again. How it would feel if a woman like her—so capable and confident and stunning—would actually want to be with a guy like me.
What’s wrong with me that, even knowing all that, I want to shoot my shot with her?
Using me for leverage, Mallory angles herself away from my chest, grunting as she contorts her body. I keep my hands hovering at waist level—only to prevent her from falling into the horn,notbecause I’m hoping for another chance to feel the curve of her hip under my palm.
When she leans and looks like she’s going to fall back into me, I use all my willpower to gently push her toward the backseat rather than pull her close. She manages to skewer her other leg through the opening between the driver and passenger seats and thrusts herself onto the floor behind me.
I peek backward, and she’s staring up at me, cheeks the color of fruit punch. She looks so embarrassed and out of her element that I default to something easy and comfortable to diffuse the lingering tension from her accidental lap dance.
“How’s the leg room back there?” I crack. “Comfy?”
“You”—she points at me—“willneverspeak of this again. You got that? Scrub the entire past twenty-four hours from your brain.”
I roll my lips into my mouth, trying to hold in my laugh. She’s transformed from embarrassed to livid, but dang it if she’s not adorable. It’s going to be impossible for me to forget any part of the past day. In fact, I’m currently making copies of all these moments and saving them in a file in my brainso, even though I’m about to lose the originals, I’ll forever have the memories to look back on.
“Bradley.” Her voice holds a heavy dose of warning. “I mean it.”
I can’t stop myself from grinning…because if we’re going to go back to our former coach and player antagonizing, then I amfor suregoing to give her crap about this from now until forever. I shoot her a wink. “Whatever you say, Coach.”
21
Pinkygate
Mallory
Holland is prattling on and on to Vivian and Callen on the front porch of Daisy’s Inn, and I make my move.
Slowly and steadily, I open the back door of his car and slither to the ground. The grass is damp from morning dew, but I ignore the dampness that presses through my leggings. I don’t shut the car door all the way behind me. I can’t risk extra noise. It is absurd how quickly my heart is thumping around in my chest.
How did I get here?
Oh, yeah. A reality TV show. A truck load of money. And a head cold.
I crawl like I’m an alligator, arms pulling me across the ground and legs following behind until I make it around the side of the building. Then I stand and sprint to the kitchen. Daisy is at the sink and spots me through the window.
“I wondered when I’d see you,” she says with a smile as she lets me in. “Quick. Right this way.” She unties her apron and leads me to a door on the far side of the food-prep space. She flips a latch and opens the door to reveal a dusty, dimly lit set of stairs.
“Where does this lead?” Not that I don’t trust Daisy, but this looks like a scene from a Nancy Drew book, and quite frankly, I don’t think my heart can handle any boogie men jumping out and trying to get me this morning. I’ve already put my nervous system through the wringer.
“Right to your room.” Daisy beams. “Remember how I told you you’re staying in the old owner’s quarters. Comes with quite the perk, I’d say, wouldn’t you?” She shoos me up the steps. “The doorat the top will lead you to the entrance that’s right alongside your closet. I hope you don’t mind, dear, but I snuck into your room earlier this morning and took the liberty of unlocking it from the inside, so you won’t have any issues.”
I could hug the woman. This feels like the first thing that’s gone right for me in two days. “Thank you so much, Daisy. I owe you one.”
She waves me off. “Happy to help out our Holland and his favorite golf coach.” She leans in. “Did you two have a nice evening together?”
“If by nice you mean I passed out in his bed, thanks to cold medicine and a killer headache, then sure.” I look at Daisy. “I’m afraid everyone around town has the wrong impression of our relationship.”
She pats my shoulder gently. “Or maybe we’re seeing things that you haven’t quite seen yet. Old age will do that to a person. Provides us with some insight, if I do say.”
I can’t help but smile. “You don’t look a day older than forty, Daisy.”
She laughs a tinkling laugh. “And you’re full of it, dear. Now hurry yourself up. I overheard production saying that they plan to have the girls knock on your door to get you up at seven thirty. Filming starts at seven forty-five, so you better hustle if you want to freshen up.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I turn to ascend the stairs, but then I pause, pivot back to her, and give her a quick hug.
“Oh!” Her arms come up around me, and I have the inexplicable urge to cry. I miss my mom terribly, and I’m so exhausted by all of this I don’t know if I’m coming or going.
My muddled feelings where Holland is concerned aren’t helping me at all. My mind is completely crowded with what my head knows I should do—build up the walls around my heart and mind, keep my focus on coaching him to victories, secure the paycheck I’ve earned from him and from this show, leave it at that—andwhat I fear my heart is teetering on the brink of—opening up to him even more, kissing him again but this time not to prove that I don’t like him, but to see if, in fact, I actually do.
