Kiss My Putt

by Tara Sivec

  And I wonder how much of this perfection I’ll get to soak up before I finish “working my magic” and he leaves me here again.

  CHAPTER 21

  Palmer

  “I prefer to play the back over the front.”

  “Holy shit, I seriously cannot believe you’re broke!”

  My fist is slamming into Bodhi’s shoulder as soon as the word “broke” shouts out of his mouth as loudly as possible, like the last hour we’ve been quietly discussing my current woes has finally caught up to his brain. While he’s busy bitching and moaning and rubbing the side of his arm, I quickly glance around the deck of Dockside Eddy’s, making sure no one heard him. There’s only five other people out here, since it’s the middle of the week and almost ten o’clock, but thankfully Ed has the sound system blasting “Margaritaville,” and it doesn’t look like anyone heard what Bodhi shouted.

  “You want to maybe keep it down a little bit? I’d really not like the entire island to know what a dumbass I am.”

  Especially Birdie. She’s been teasing me about being poor just because I’m not winning big purses on the pro tour right now, knowing she can tease me because clearly I have plenty of money in the bank.

  Ha ha clearly I have plenty of money in the bank, right?! Oh, Jesus…

  I’m trying to convince her I’m the best thing for her and she should fall madly in love with me, beg me to stay here forever with her, and take care of her. I know what fucking year it is, and I know Laura Bennett raised two brilliant, amazing, independent women, and Birdie can, has, and would continue taking care of herself forever and ever without once complaining or asking for help. But I’m still me. And I still want to take care of my woman, and provide for her, and give her a home, and give her everything she’s ever dreamed of in life, so she doesn’t have to lift a finger if she doesn’t want to. I can’t exactly convince her of anything but what a dipshit I am by starting off our new relationship with, “Yo, babe. Can I crash on your couch for a little bit? I swear it won’t be forever. Can you also spot me a twenty? My golf cart needs gas.” That’s Bodhi’s M.O. and how he lands women. Not mine.

  Goddamn my fucking father…

  With a sigh, I take another sip of my lukewarm beer, grimacing and shoving the bottle aside on the table when not even alcohol can ease my pain.

  “You aren’t a dumbass,” Bodhi reassures me. “You let your dad handle your money, and he did a great job of it your entire life. You know, until recently, and now you are broooke.”

  I groan, dropping my head down to smack my forehead against the table, and all those jokes Birdie made about me being poor are not so funny anymore.

  “You know I don’t need the money, Pal. Take whatever you want—”

  “Shut the hell up already with that bullshit,” I mutter against the table when Bodhi tries for the third time in the last hour to offer me all the money that’s been left untouched in his checking account for years. “I mean, thank you, but no thank you. I’m not taking your money. I’m a thirty-year-old grown-ass man who was oblivious to his finances like a dumbass, and I have to pay the price for that.”

  Two nights ago, when I was getting ready for my first date with Birdie, I called my accountant, the only member of my team I didn’t fire, to have him pull some funds so I could put an offer in on a permanent cottage on the island that recently went up for sale. A cottage Birdie had told me on numerous occasions over the years that it had a walk-in closet to die for, because the last time it was up for sale, she checked out the listing online and drooled over the photos. The minute I was inside Birdie and her body felt more like home than even this island ever had, I knew that wherever she was is where I needed to be.

  And then my accountant took my call and got all snippy with me that he’d been trying to reach me, and I hadn’t been returning his emails or voicemails. Birdie told me about his emails asking me to call him ASAP, and I’ll admit I’d been dodging his calls and ignoring his messages. As soon as I got to Summersweet, I just didn’t want to deal with anything business-related, and I assumed he needed me to sign some routine paperwork or something stupid that could wait. I shut it all off and pushed it aside until my head was a little clearer. I planned on calling him later in the week, but when my mind had been made up about what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and that was to semi-retire and spend as much time as humanly possible here on this island and between Birdie’s thighs, I picked up the phone while my shower water warmed up and made what I thought would be a quick call to him.

  Thank God for my date with Birdie after that call and for that email about The San Francisco Open, or I would have curled up in the fetal position on the floor of the shower and cried like a baby the rest of the night. Actually, I’d probably still be crying on the floor of my shower if it weren’t for Birdie. As soon as she opened the door to the cottage when I picked her up for our date and I wrapped my arms around her and breathed her in, I stopped feeling sorry for myself and just got excited about the possibility of playing in another tournament so soon. I could make enough money that Birdie would never have to know what an idiot she’s with.

  “I’ll stop teasing you now, because you’re not flat-broke. You still have money coming in,” Bodhi reminds me.

  I snort, leaning back in my chair and crossing my arms to stare out over the deck railing at the darkness of the ocean and the dots of lights out in the distance of passing ships.

  “I have just enough money coming in from old endorsement royalties to pay for the mortgages on the three stupid rental properties I have, that each have iron-clad leases I can’t get out of for another ten months. Those stupid things are funneling out money faster than it goes into my account. I had two different lawyers look into the leases yesterday, and there’s nothing I can do, and I can’t even sublet them to make money on them while I’m not there.” I sigh.

  They said there’s also nothing I can do about the bad investments my father made months ago that I knew nothing about that damn near drained all my accounts, since he was the executor of everything and could make whatever decisions he wanted with my money. Which up until recently were always amazing decisions. And now I can barely afford to rent the fucking cottage I’m in right now, let alone buy a bigger one with more closet space for Birdie’s clothes and shoes. Not to mention my position at SIG came to an end already. It was only a temporary job and a favor Greg did for me to get close to Birdie until the golf pro he had already promised the job to could get into town, but I hoped to keep getting that paycheck for at least a few more weeks, as small as it was, considering SIG isn’t a huge resort course on the mainland that rakes in the dough.

  The only thing the lawyers could do was take my father’s name off everything so I could start over. They asked me if I wanted to sue him. Yeah, because that will make the public love me even more, get me reinvited to more tournaments, and get new endorsements so I can put more money away. “Pal Campbell sues loving father who only wanted the best for him and gave up his life so his son could be a star. News about this greedy bastard at 11.”

  Puke. Besides, how can I sue someone when I had access to everything he did? I could have taken the time to look, but I didn’t. Because I trusted him, because I’m a dumbass.

  God damn my fucking father…

  “Thank God, The San Fran Open wants you back,” Bodhi says as I finally pull my head up from the table after repeatedly banging it, a little excitement replacing my misery and disgust with myself. “You just gotta place in the top three, and you’ll be golden with cash for quite a while.”

  I nod, rubbing my hands together, knowing I need to do a hell of lot more training than I have the last two days. My heart immediately plummets though, because the last two days since my date with Birdie and our one and only time having sex, we both decided I needed to focus. I’ve been exhausted as hell after doing nothing but drills from the minute the sun comes up until it goes down and I can no longer see my balls, barely able to drive back to my cottage
before taking a quick shower and passing out. Laura took a few days off to go to a spa with some girlfriends on the mainland, which means Wren is pulling double duty at the Dip and Twist, and Birdie has had to help out with her nephew in the evenings. We’re like two ships passing in the… day, since the only time we’ve seen each other since our date is at work. We’ve managed to steal a few kisses and some epic groping behind trees and in storage closets, but it’s not enough. She’s like a drug I can’t get enough of, and two days of not being inside her is two days too long.

  Glancing at my watch, I see I only have a few more minutes before I need to get out of here and back to SIG for my plan I put in place with Tess earlier in the day to begin. “I hate that I already have to leave Birdie in a week, but at least it’s only for two days,” I tell him, waving our waitress over so I can get our bill.

  “I still think you should tell her.” Bodhi sighs. “About the money problems, about you wanting to buy a cottage and stay here permanently with her, and why you’re getting the fuck out of dodge so fast after just getting here and after just getting her. Also, why aren’t we asking her to come with us again?”

  Just like offering to give me money, Bodhi also hasn’t shut up about how he thinks I need to tell Birdie everything. He suddenly has a serious girlfriend for the first time in his adult life, and now he thinks he can hand out dating advice to everyone.

  “Birdie knows this is my job, and she knows I have to travel to do it, even though this tournament popped up a lot faster than either of us expected,” I remind him, my heart sinking all over again when I think about leaving her even for two days. “It’s just a couple days, and then I’ll be right back. She has a busy job and a family who needs her here more. It would be selfish of me to ask her to leave them just to watch me golf. She’d be bored as hell standing around at that tournament. I play in those things, and even I get bored as hell waiting around. And I’m not telling her about the cottage, because it’s a surprise. You don’t usually tell people about a surprise or it’s called something else. Like… news.”

  Plus, this is all still fresh and brand new with Birdie, this switch from friendship to something more. Even though it feels so natural and right and like we’ve been touching and kissing and she’s been letting me fondle her boobs all this time instead of just a few days, I’m still a regular guy who doesn’t want his new girlfriend to think he’s a loser. I want her to look at me and see all my good qualities and how happy I can make her, and not see all the stupid decisions I’ve made to screw up my life that I’m trying to give to her. I just want her to look at me and fucking fall in love with me as deeply as I am with her. When I leave Summersweet to get on that plane for California, I just want her to want me to come back home. To her, because she needs me and she’s in love with me. And then I’ll get to see the look on her face when I win that goddamn tournament and tell her I bought her the closet of her dreams, and the times I’ll need to leave her after that will be few and far between.

  I just have a week to make this all happen, while also making absolutely certain we do everything we can to get me to San Francisco and win for our future.

  “Whatever you say, Pal. You know Birdie better than I do.” Bodhi finally shrugs, punching me in the arm when I try to take the bill as soon as the waitress sets it down and leaves.

  You’re damn right I do. And now I’m going to head back to SIG and enjoy all my knowledge.

  Palmer: I think I have a problem.

  Birdie: Not this again…

  Palmer: You’re the one who left me with the worst case of blue balls I’ve ever had in my life after sticking your hand down my pants in the men’s bathroom this morning and then walking away like you had a job to do or something. Pffft, whatever. I couldn’t take a piss for twenty minutes after that. But no, I do not have a jerking off problem this time.

  Birdie: You want to clue me in on what this problem is, or am I supposed to guess? I’m trying to finish up this paperwork so I can get the hell out of here. My mom is back, and I finally don’t have to run Owen to baseball for Wren, and I’m exhausted. I don’t know where everyone went, but of course right when I need a few questions answered so I can finish up this food order, there’s suddenly not one employee to be found. They all freaking went home and left me here! I even checked the parking lot.

  Birdie: Sorry, I’m a little annoyed. I know you’re tired and had a long day too. How did training go? I wish I didn’t have to work so I could see you. This responsibility stuff sucks.

  Palmer: Training was awesome. I’m hitting better than I have in a while, and I’m pretty sure it’s because of you and all the magic and good luck you bring me. I also saw that candid picture you took and posted of me on the driving range. Lots of good comments on that one, so thank you for getting a great shot of my amazing, firm ass. California, here I come! Anyway, I’m texting you, because I could see how frazzled you were running around all day, so there are two treats in your office to perk you right up and to thank you for everything you’re doing to help me. Look in your bottom right drawer. Not the left one where you keep an alarming amount of cat nip, and I’m wondering if maybe you’re partaking in a little bit of The Chevy Tahoe’s stash.

  Birdie: Cat nip stops them from attacking people when they’re trying to golf, and OMG you left me Dolphin Donuts in my desk drawer! You’re the best guy I’ve ever had sex with once and then never slept with again, because, you know, a little stingy with the cookies and all.

  Palmer: Well then, I guess you don’t want your second treat…

  Palmer: Open your office door, Birdie.

  Standing on the other side of the door against the wall and away from the small window in Birdie’s office that looks out over the quiet, pitch-dark pro shop, I hear Birdie’s gasp on the other side as soon as my last text gets to her, and I smile. And then my hands start to shake as I toss my phone to a small table with a plant on it right under her window and move to stand in front of the door, so goddamn desperate for her I can’t think straight.

  When I told Tess my plan earlier, she was more than happy to help, giving me a spare key to the bar so I could sneak into SIG through that entrance and walk through the pro-shop without needing to walk by Birdie’s office window and chance her seeing me. I wanted to have a little texting fun with her first instead of just barging right in and scaring the shit out of her, since my plan included Tess getting everyone the hell out of here a half-hour ago and Birdie’s been here alone for a bit.

  Her office door is immediately flung open, all the light from inside spilling out into the dark pro-shop behind me as she stands in the doorway, a look of surprise on her face and something else as she looks at me. I watch her finish chewing the bite she must have taken out of one of the donuts before she got my last text, her eyes trailing down my body while she licks her lips, something telling me she’s just as hungry as I am, and not for the donuts I ran over to the mainland and picked up on my lunch hour today.

  “So that’s a no from you on the second treat?” I tease, wondering how in the hell I can even make jokes at a time like this.

  Her eyes haven’t come up from their slow perusal of me, because of course they stopped on the bulge straining in the crotch area of my athletic shorts. My dick got hard as steel the minute Birdie opened that door and I got my first look at her in a few hours. She’s still wearing a light-blue fitted SIG shirt that molds to her curves and matches the color of her eyes, and a pair of those damn tiny black shorts that are about a few centimeters away from being considered underwear and indecent. Obviously, I got a chubby every time I ran into her looking so hot all day long. But nope, the sexy little outfit she’s wearing isn’t what almost has me coming in my shorts like a teenage boy with his first wet dream.

  It’s the God. Damn. Braids.

  At some point since I left here to go meet Bodhi for dinner so I could bitch about the sorry state of my finances, Birdie took down the high ponytail her hair had been in all day, parted it down th
e middle, and put in those braids that fall in thick ropes down over the front of her shoulders and rest right on top of her tits. Thick ropes I can hold onto while I’m—

  “You’re here,” Birdie whispers in awe, cutting off my dirty thoughts while her eyes finally meet mine.

  Christ, I have to make it to California and win. If this is the way she greets me when I’ve only been gone for a few hours, I can’t even imagine what will happen when I come back home after two days.

  I want to make another sarcastic comment about how she said she didn’t want this treat, but I don’t. She’s looking at me the way she looks at the open box of donuts on her desk, and I only have so much willpower.

  I’m backing her into her office and slamming the door closed behind me before she has a chance to remind me she still has work to do. Work can wait, and hopefully she agrees. Wrapping my arms around Birdie’s waist, I lift her up against me, and she immediately wraps her gorgeous legs around my waist, clutches a handful of my hair, and kisses the holy hell out of me. I almost trip over my own two feet when she swirls her tongue around mine, tasting like sweet maple glaze from her donut as I walk her farther into the office, setting her down on the edge of her desk when my thighs smack into it. It puts her at just the perfect height that I only have to bend over a little to keep kissing her. Even though I don’t want to stop, I have something much more important to do.

  Birdie whimpers when I break the kiss, that sound like a bolt of electricity right through my cock, still such an amazement to me that she wants me.

  “What are you doing? Why are you stopping?” she asks breathlessly as I reach back behind me and unwind her legs, bringing them down to hang off the edge of the desk, but not before I remove her sneakers and ankle socks and drop them to the floor.

  “My plan is to make both of our fantasies come true. Lift up,” I tell her, grabbing the cotton material of her shorts by her hips.