“Have you played golf before?” I ask. If I’m going to spend the next few hours with this woman while our partners compete for Mr. Warne’s attention, it would help to have something to talk about.
“Yes, last week, but I’m not very good.” Paige giggles.
“It’s okay. I’m sure to be hopeless,” I say, waving a hand.
“The lunch and spa make it worth it,” Eden interjects with a wink.
I like her. Actually, both ladies seem nice. There’s a pang of guilt, though, since these women are being genuine, while I’m playing a role. I push the feeling aside, reminding myself why we’re doing this.
It’s just Liam… The way his eyes zone in on Oliver makes me shiver.
But when I look at Oliver, his gaze is on me.
This is why I get so confused. He looks at me with a fire, that I feel deep in my core but I can’t trust it. Not after everything.
“Okay, let's get started. We need the extra time, otherwise, we’ll miss the lunch reservation, and it sounds like that's all the ladies want,” Mr. Warne jokes, but kisses Eden on the cheek again, and I melt at the affection.
“You know me too well.” Eden smiles lovingly at him.
Oliver links his hand with mine as we follow them. His palm is warm, our fingers interlacing naturally.
“Why are people moving the bags for us?” I whisper so only Oliver can hear, surprised by what seems like unnecessary service.
He brings his lips to my ear. I ignore the closeness and listen to his words. “That’s part of Dan’s package.”
I blink slowly, trying to comprehend all this extra stuff they can get because they have money.The power they have…
I hang back, waiting for my turn, which unfortunately isn’t that long. Eden hits the ball with ease. I’m surprised, because I’d assumed she was more of a social golfer like me, here mostly for the lunch afterward. Now I feel even more out of my depth.
Paige takes a few goes before hitting the ball. I notice Liam getting frustrated beside me, giving her instructions in a huff. I glance at Mr. Warne, noticing his slight frown as he watches Liam’s behavior. I wonder if Oliver will get frustrated with me.
Now it’s my turn, and I look at Oliver, who gives me an encouraging smile.
“What club do I pick?”
He hands me one, standing close. “This is a driver. Perfect for beginners.” Positioning himself behind me, he gently guides my arms into the correct stance.
“Keep your eye on the ball, not where you want it to go,” he whispers softly against my ear. “And don’t try to smash it. Just a smooth, easy swing.”
I step up to the ball, and he tells me to relax. Yeah, sure, that’s easier for him to say; he knows what the fuck he’s doing, whereas I’ve never played, and I have them all watching and waiting.
I swing the club hard, and because my hands are so sweaty, the club slips out and hits a tree. Gasping, my hands cover my mouth. The roar of laughter behind me makes me relax a little, but I’m still mortified.
Turning to Oliver, I expect to see disappointment, but he’s doubled over. When he straightens, he’s misty eyed and red faced.
“Stop laughing at me.”
“Sorry,Petal,” he says, walking over and handing me a new club before going back to watch me with the others.
I suck in a breath at his nickname for me and try to focus on the ball, but of course, it rattles me more, and I hit the grass.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say quietly when I swing again and move a piece of grass. I want to die inside. This perfect, expensive grass is now damaged because of me. My throat tightens, and I struggle to breathe.
I’m staring at the big dirt hole, wondering what to do. I’m so lost in thought that I don’t hear Oliver walk up. It's only the heat of his body, the clean smell of his aftershave, and his voice that wraps around me like a hug.
“Stop doubting yourself. Don’t let fear win. Use your courage.” His body slips behind me, my back flush against his chest as he wraps his arms around me and covers my hands over the club. If he thinks I’m able to do this with him standing so close, he’s got another thing coming.
“I’ve got it,” I say.
