by Cherie Marks
As long as he had his plants to tend, no one had any need to fear him or his magic.
Chapter 3
“Come on, Flint. Just let it go. There are so many jerks in the world. Are you going to defend me against all of them?” Ivy blocked a red-faced Flint, laying a calming hand on the big guy to try to keep him from going ballistic on the reckless golf cart driver that unapologetically nearly flattened her.
“He deserves a fist to the face and nothing less.”
It had been such a handsome face, all angular and masculine, with a scruff of dark beard barely covering his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. She’d had the strangest urge to feel the stubble with her hand until Speedy McJerkface had practically blamed her for his recklessness.
No! The last thing she needed to do was feel attraction to someone who had nearly killed her, or at least maimed her badly. What kind of person was she for even considering his looks in such a moment? And, now she needed to put all her soothing energy into the massive mountain of her cousin who was about to blow up.
Flint looked close to losing control and showing the mighty force of bear shifters in their full form. But, right now, Ivy couldn’t afford to lose her caddy and best friend to rage. She needed him to focus on this tournament with her. Of all the tournaments she’d played, this one mattered most. With this win, she would no longer be at the mercy of her family’s pressure. She would have choices that she’d never had before. She had to rein in this situation, and she needed to do it now.
“Flint, this is not the time to become my protective, older cousin. I need you to focus on the game not some...speedy jerk...who needs to learn to think about someone other than himself.”
His wild gaze swung back to her, and she watched his anger melt away. “You’re right. Today is about winning, and you don’t need any distractions.” His balled fists unfurled, and he wiped a hand over his face. “I just feel responsible for you. When your aunt took me in as her own, I gained a family, and I never want to take that for granted.”
“Aunt Mable adores you. You’re her son, without a doubt. You don’t have to prove a thing.” She reached a hand up and rubbed it along his upper arm. “Now, can we talk strategy?”
“Of course. Nothing is going to get in the way of a win today.”
“Hey, Ivy! Hey, Flint! I wasn’t sure I’d see you playing this tournament...not after the last tournament.”
Ivy recognized that low, catty voice the minute she uttered a smarmy word, but her first instinct was to walk away without even acknowledging her existence. Unfortunately, that never seemed to work with Prunella Viper, a fellow golfer on the PPGA tour and Ivy’s all-time, least-favorite person she had ever met. Despite her first instinct, she turned to face her.
“Hello, Pru.” Of course she would have to bring up the last tournament. She was already trying to get into Ivy’s head. Ivy had come so close to winning, but somehow, Pru had come out of nowhere and taken the tournament in the last couple holes. Ivy would have suspected cheating, but there were protocols in place to prevent such behavior. With the spells and magic surrounding the tournament, it would be impossible to cheat without notice. Each stroke was automatically counted and at the end of each hole, the earned score simply appeared on the player’s scorecard. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but remain suspicious of Pru. To be fair, everyone whoever met Prunella thought she was up to no good.
Flint stepped forward, his nostrils flaring once more. He’d detected another threat, and Ivy had to nip it in the bud before he did something they both regretted.
“Miss Viper, don’t worry about Ivy. She’s ready to play today. She’s going to hit them long and straight, and no doubt about it, she’ll be wearing the golden jacket at the end.”
“Hmmm. Sometimes, miracles do happen. But, then again, gold goes so well with my eyes. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
She turned with a flounce and bounced with confidence to her own caddy, wearing a look of practiced disdain as he waited for her.
Flint’s voice sounded like several pieces of gravel rubbing over each other as he said, “I can’t stand that woman...or that condescending caddy of hers. Do you think there’s anything going on between them?”
Ivy stared after her and watched as the tall, burly bison shifter put a hand on Prunella’s lower back. “There are rumors, but what does it matter? They could be making out right now, and it wouldn’t matter to my game.”
A worried gaze met Ivy’s, and Flint spoke with concern in his voice. “Don’t let her get in your head, Ivy. You’re going to win this tournament, and then you’re going to get more sponsors and more money, and you’ll be invited to all the tournaments, probably with exemptions. Your professional golf career will do nothing but skyrocket from here. Besides, your eyes are the exact color of green and gold that would look fantastic with that jacket”
The list he rattled off was making Ivy’s head throb. He had no idea what kind of pressure he was building in her. She had to stop him before he messed with her head permanently because golf was such a psychological sport.
“Stop! Stop! Just stop, Flint!”
A look of confusion covered his face. “What? What did I say?”
“What if I don’t want all of that?”
He stared, dumbfounded. “How could you not want all of that? It’s what you’ve worked so hard to achieve. It’s what you’ve always wanted.”
“Is it? Is it what I’ve always wanted? I don’t know anymore.”
His head shook back and forth a few times before he stated, “You’ve just let Pru get to you. Don’t let her win. You’ve got to triumph in this tournament and show her that she’s not as great as she thinks she is.”
“What if that doesn’t matter to me? What if none of this does?”
“Now, you’re just talking crazy.” He sighed heavily. “Look, why don’t you go practice on the putting green while I get us a few bottles of water. Get your head on straight and stop talking nonsense about not wanting to win. Don’t be afraid of success.”
“I’ve just been thinking, Flint. The one reason I really want to win this tournament is to finally have the chance to walk away if that’s what I choose. I would have nothing left to prove really, and I could finally make choices for myself.”
“Let’s get through this tournament with a win, and then, we’ll talk all of this out.”
He walked away quickly, and Ivy watched after him a few moments before grabbing her putter and a few golf balls to join the other golfers lining up their putts and getting a read of today’s greens.
Maybe he was right. Maybe all of this was in her head, and maybe she was just afraid of actually letting herself be everything everyone wanted her to be. Yet, that was the key, wasn’t it? The success that she would achieve by winning this tournament and the next and the next wasn’t necessarily what she wanted.
It was what everyone else wanted for her.
Ugh! This wasn’t the time for philosophical debates in her head. Flint was right about one thing. Ivy needed to get her head on straight and play this tournament the best she could. Maybe if she won the tournament, those people pushing her would finally be satisfied, and she could finally have the option of thinking about what she really wanted to do with her life.
One simple win could change everything.
As she set her ball on the green, the three dots aligned with the direction she needed to putt, she felt the familiar energy that filled her when she became focused and competitive. No matter what else was going on around her, the moment that mattered right now was the one right before each stroke she took. Ivy was ready to win, whatever that meant, and nothing, absolutely nothing, would get in her way.
Chapter 4
Zayn had worked up quite an appetite finally getting the sprinklers under control, and he was currently sitting at his dining table scarfing down the perfect turkey and provolone sandwich. He was fighting hard to tune out the chaos outside. The tournament had started by now
, and it was better for everyone if he hung out here, away from it all, until he was needed.
If everything went according to plan, he wouldn’t be needed again until it was time to reposition the holes on the greens. He could sit back, relax, and pretend things were the same as they ever were. In four days, all of this would be over, and he could move on with the usual course maintenance that kept him occupied every day.
“What are you doing in here, Zayn? Shouldn’t you be out there making sure everything goes according to plan?”
He didn’t even bother turning around as he explained, “They’ll call if they need me, Franny.”
With another bite of his sandwich, he looked up into the crinkled eyes of his housekeeper. Well, at least, that’s what she called herself. In reality, she was the kindly witch who had taken him in when he’d been at his worst. Somehow, she’d put him back together and given him an opportunity for a decent life. He owed her everything.
“Yes, but there could be emergencies that you need to tend to at a moment’s notice. Surely, Plinth Stone is relying on you to be his eyes and ears during this very important time. The whole world is watching.”
“Plinth knows what he’s doing. It’s his course after all. If the owner thought I needed to be out there, he would have told me so himself.”
She seemed satisfied for the moment as she wandered over to the sink and rinsed the cup and saucer she’d had in her hands. She’d been enjoying her afternoon tea, showing her British roots. Though she’d been in America for at least a couple hundred years now, she still spoke fondly of her girlhood in a small town in Cornwall called Salem. Fortunately, she’d never been to the twin-named village in Massachusetts during a very dark time for witches in early America.
“You should be out there...playing.”
She’d mumbled under her breath, but he heard her all the same.
It wasn’t a new argument to him. It also wasn’t completely insane. At one time, he would have easily won the Magic Open. Had come close to it a couple times, but ultimately, he had to walk away from the game he loved forever. Now, he did the next best thing. He took care of the course so that others could enjoy golf the way he no longer could.
“We both know that wouldn’t end well. I...I turn into...well, I don’t like who I become out there. It’s not worth it.”
She sat down across from Zayn at the table, placing one of her wrinkled hands over his forearm. “Maybe it would be different now. You’ve changed since the days of being a gangly amateur. It’s been what? Fifteen years or so? You weren’t more than twenty when you played on the tour.”
“You might be right, but I don’t even want to chance going back to the way I was.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “No. It’s for the best. Franny, you know I adore you, but there’s no reason to put that hope into my mind. I’ll never touch another golf club for as long as I live.”
He pushed back from the table, his sandwich left half-eaten. “I’m going to work in the garden. I need to let off a little steam.”
She sat back, a knowing look held sympathy in her gaze, and he nearly growled at her. He knew better though. Or, at least, he was getting better at pulling his anger back, keeping it manageable. It had taken a long time, but he could control the beast better than ever.
His patience had grown, and not much got to him the way it used to. He dared anyone to try to pull the monster he once was to the surface. They couldn’t even make him flinch.
FLINT ENDED HIS SHORT phone call with Gigi, Ivy and his grandmother, and slipped Ivy a seven iron as he whispered low, “With only three holes after this one, you’re playing the best round of your career, and you’ve positioned yourself for an easy birdie here too. When I described your day so far, even Gigi agreed this is one of your best rounds on any golf course. Do you really want to walk away from all of this?”
Ivy stared at Flint, wanting to hex him with the biggest, most gnarly pimple right on the end of his nose. What was he thinking? You didn’t tell someone who was kicking ass that they were kicking ass in the middle of the round. That was a recipe for a fold...like a cheap lawn chair kind of folding. Did he want her to fall apart in the final holes of the round?
She didn’t hex him though. With a jerk, she pulled the offered iron from his hand and turned to address the ball. The fifteenth hole was a par four dogleg left that, with a good drive, was playable for birdie. She’d cut the elbow shape of the dogleg with a solid drive and was now gripping one of the clubs with which she was most confident. Her confidence was slightly shaken after Flint’s words, but she worked to push it from her mind.
Swing thought! She reminded herself to relax her mouth. Her feet couldn’t seem to plant themselves as she shifted back and forth, trying to find her balance. She checked her grip again and released her breath.
Nothing about her swing felt right as she twisted back and fired her release toward the ball. And just as she suspected, something was off. Way off. She watched in horror as her ball shot high and fast...in the wrong direction.
It was heading right, practically straight right and out of bounds. “No! No! No! No! No!”
Flint groaned behind her as they both watched the ball fly over a high wall, into the backyard of a lone home backing up to the fifteenth hole.
Ivy swung her body around and slammed her hands to her hips. “This is your fault!”
Mouth agape, Flint questioned, “How is it my fault? Did I hit the ball and not realize it?”
“No! But you...you made that stupid comment about this being my best round. It put too much pressure on me, and now my personal best is slipping out of my grasp, as is winning this tournament.”
Flint shook his head back and forth. “It’s not over yet, Ivy. Don’t be so dramatic. Just take a drop and a penalty.”
She began marching in the direction of the house but couldn’t resist calling over her shoulder, “It’s like you wanted me to mess up.”
When he didn’t rush to admit it, she turned to see if he was following, but he stood with his back to her, his head lowered. She assumed he was sulking. He was so emotional, but she didn’t have time to deal with his mood swings right now. She had to find her ball.
Not wanting to make Flint worry any more than he already did, she hadn’t told him one key thing. She wasn’t about to admit that she’d made a bonehead mistake unless she absolutely had to. She couldn’t just drop a new ball and move on because she had not hit an ordinary ball.
She had hit her hole-in-one ball.
She’d actually been playing with it all day because she’d thought it would be lucky. And it had been working...until it had taken a right and flew off course. Flint had spoken truthfully. She had been playing the best she ever had.
Golf was a mind game, so she knew that if she believed the ball had been helping her, then she needed to get that ball back, even if it meant she had to scale the wall and get it herself. As she stared up at the seven-foot, brick monstrosity, she doubted her ability to climb such a beast, but she had to try.
Once she got closer, she saw there was a wooden gate that was about half the size of the wall. If it wasn’t unlocked, she could scramble over it fairly easily, get her ball, and get out before anyone even saw. She’d still take her penalty, of course, but she had to get that ball back.
Ivy looked around carefully and gripped the hard metal of the gate handle. She pulled slightly, and the gate cracked open. It was unlocked.
She pulled a little more, just enough to squeeze through, and she stood still, taking in the beauty of the area inside the walls. It was like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and ended up in a beautiful floral wonderland. This was someone’s pride and joy. That much was clear.
In the center was a small, bubbling fountain with a sculpture of a cupid in its chubby, angelic form, complete with bow pulled back with a heart-tipped arrow nocked and ready to fly. A path rounded the fountain and was lined with a small row of shrubs that opened and spread out on four sides to admit any
one who happened to be walking through the surrounding garden. Beyond the low bushes, various, colorful flowers spread out low to the ground and encroached just a little over the paths that continued to spoke outward from the fountain. The final layer of beauty was a series of rose bushes that grew in a circle of crimson loveliness that seemed to hug one particular bush, under a towering, arching arbor, which held a singular, globe-sized rose the color of the deepest ruby red. It clearly was the jewel of the garden, and Ivy knew she needed to get out of there without disturbing even a petal.
But, one thing she hadn’t counted on was how difficult it would be to find something like a golf ball in all of this greenery.
She inched down the path toward the fountain, glancing around, hoping to see a flash of white. Yet, the further she traveled into the buzzing, lively floral paradise, the more distracted she got. The air was perfumed with scents that tickled her nostrils and calmed her competitive spirit. She recognized the reality of what she was experiencing. There was some sort of Xanex-like magic in the air, and it was affecting her the longer she stayed here.
Stealing her mind to her task, she got low and began crawling along the gravel pathway, wincing as the pea-sized rocks dug into the exposed skin on her palms and knees. It was painful and began to slow her down even more. She needed to help herself quickly in order to get out of here and back to the tournament. But, she wasn’t supposed to use magic to help her win the tournament. Of course, this wasn’t officially a play to win. This was just a recovery mission. Surely, that didn’t count as cheating. She just wanted to put a layer of magic over her legs and hands as she crawled along the ground. It wouldn’t give her any advantage in the tournament, and she just wanted to get her hole-in-one ball back. The tournament officials would just have to understand.