“Hey, give me a pair of skates and I can go for hours, but walking eighteen holes while you’re trying to teach me the difference between a wedge and a nine iron?” He shakes his head dramatically. “My feet are killing me. How do you do it?”
“We don’t usually take twenty practice swings per shot,” I tease. “Or stop for a photo op at every tee box.”
“Those sponsors paid good money for those photo ops,” he shoots back with a grin. “Plus, I had to document proof I can actually hit a golf ball. My teammates will never believe it otherwise.”
“You weren’t that bad. That shot on sixteen was actually decent.”
“Decent? I’ll take it.” He laughs, then his attention shifts to Leah, and his expression sobers. “And you must be the woman who’s got golf’s golden boy wrapped around your little finger.”
“Leah,” she says, extending her hand with a smile that doesn’t quite hide her nerves. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Emmitt takes her hand, but instead of shaking it, he brings it to his lips for a kiss that’s pure old-world charm. Bastard. “The pleasure is entirely mine. Anyone who can make our friend, Hays, here, forget how to form complete sentences is someone I need to know better.”
“I never forget how to—” I start to protest, but Leah’s soft laugh cuts me off.
“He does seem to have that problem around me,” she agrees, and the mischief in her eyes makes my pulse quicken.
“Smart and gorgeous.” Emmitt grins at me. “You better lock this one down before someone with more sense comes along.”
“Working on it,” I say, my hand finding the small of Leah’s back.
“Speaking of which,” Emmitt continues, turning back to Leah, “you should come out to Phoenix sometime. Catch a Freeze game. I’ll make sure you get the VIP treatment.”
“I’d love to. I’ve seen the Boston Blades play a few times, but I’ve never been to Phoenix.”
Emmitt scoffs dramatically. “The Blades? Those amateurs? Sweetheart, you haven’t seen real hockey until you’ve watched the Freeze. We’ll spoil you for any other team.”
Leah’s eyes dance in a way that sends warmth flooding through my chest. “I can see why you and Hays get along so well.”
Emmitt shoots her a wink and claps me on the shoulder. “And I can see why he’s smitten. Don’t screw this up, Granger.”
As he walks away, I turn to Leah, handing her the rum and Coke. “You’d really want to come to Phoenix?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” She tilts her head, studying my expression. “You seem surprised.”
“It’s just…” I glance around the room. “I wasn’t sure if you were ready to be a part of my world. To travel and—”
“Hays,” she says softly, “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Before I can respond, we’re approached by a couple I recognize from the tournament sponsor’s executive team. Then comes a sports reporter from ESPN, followed by another player who wants to talk shop about course conditions. Each conversation requires introductions, small talk, and careful navigation through questions that edge too close to personal territory.
I watch Leah handle each interaction with grace, her intelligence shining through as she asks thoughtful questions and makes genuine connections. But the tension builds in her shoulders, and her smile becomes more forced with each conversation.
“Excuse me,” a photographer says, appearing at my elbow. “Could we get a few shots of you and your lovely companion?”
“Not right now.”
“It’ll just take a—”
“I said no.” My tone invites no argument, and he gets the point and moves on.
“You okay?” I ask, leaning down. “We can get out of here if you need some air.”
Relief flickers across her features. “Could we? Just for a minute?”
I don’t hesitate. Scanning the room, I spot the French doors leading to the balcony that overlooks the harbor. “This way.”
I guide her through the crowd, dropping our empty glasses as we go. I use my body to create a buffer between her and the curious stares that follow us. I hold her hand tight the entire way, and when Martinez from First National tries to intercept us, I brush him off. I need to talk to the guy, but now’s not the time.
