His clubs were in the back of the gator. He usually kept them with him when he was cruising the course so he could play a few holes in between whatever maintenance he’d assigned himself to do, and he’d better hurry if he wanted to catch up to her.
#
Kendall looked up at the sound of the gator approaching. She smiled. LC was here. “I found you. LC, right?” she asked.
“You were looking for me?” he asked.
“It was more a matter of keeping my eyes open,” she said.
He smiled, admiring her up close, as he pulled up to the back of her cart.
“I was hoping to see you again,” she said, scanning the area around him, eyes lingering over his body, undressing him. She stood leaning on her club, her other hand on her hip, all sassy and saucy, and it unwittingly pulled him in, not that he needed any additional pulling.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” she said, smiling.
“Lucky for you, I spend quite a bit of time here,” he said.
“Yep, lucky me.”
“And just how do you know my name?” he asked.
“The guy at the gas station,” she said.
He nodded and smiled. He was all sexy and confident, sitting in that gator, watching her, calm and a little cocky—understated cocky, though, if there was such a thing.
“I wondered if you lived around here,” she said.
“I knew you didn’t. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Kendall Edwards,” she said.
“Nice to meet you, Kendall Edwards.”
“Nice to meet you too, LC.”
“Is this your first time on the course?” he asked. He sat watching her, his expression implying that he was accustomed to women searching for him.
“Yes, it is. It’s been at the top of my golf bucket list of places to play,” she said, smiling.
“Well, you only have another couple of hours of daylight left. I suggest you cut over to hole number seven to finish out the nine. Do you mind if I play with you?”
#
She stood next to her cart and smiled, a kick to his gut. A few strands of hair had come undone, black against the smooth brown of a heart-shaped face. She was a pretty woman, a smooth dollop of milk chocolate dipped into the white and pink of her golf attire. His eyes roamed over her again quickly, and he didn’t care if she noticed; in fact, it was a good thing if she did. So what if he hadn’t dated anyone like her before? That didn’t mean he hadn’t noticed them. Pretty was pretty, irrespective of race. He guessed it had seemed easier somehow to stick to his own kind, given the way he’d grown up and all the hatred he’d been exposed to.
“Sure, I would love that,” she said, and he had no doubt she meant it. Yes, taking candy from a baby, this would be, he thought in his Jedi master’s speak.
“Show me the way,” she said, smiling at him again, wanting to do a happy dance at the thought of getting what she’d wished for, and at the ease she’d gotten it, like it had been fate or something. Now, if only things would end up where she wanted them, with him showing her what it meant to be with a man who knew what to do. She hoped he did anyway.
“Follow me,” Cooper said. He drove the gator around to the front of her cart, watching as she took a seat and pulled up behind him.
They stopped at the top of hole seven. She parked her cart, grabbed her driver, and walked over to join him where he stood next to the gator, waiting for her. Did she say fine? He was dressed casually in shorts, the flat-fronted, navy twill kind, with a grey polo shirt with the Quarry logo on the left breast pocket tucked into them. A brown leather belt rounded out the ensemble. Brown, beat-up golf shoes graced his feet, the only hitch in his otherwise smooth outfit.
#
“My lucky shoes” he said, smiling at how her face had twisted upon catching sight of his shoes. He’d watched her look him over—she was such an easy read—and he added “concerned with outer appearances” to the negative column in his tally of her virtues and vices. He smiled.
“Will this be a friendly game or a competitive one?” he asked.
“Make it light on yourself,” she said.
“Competitive, then.”
“If you’re sure.”
“I am,” he added, and widened his smile. “Are you going to play the girly tees or you going to play back here with the big boys?” he asked.
“We’ll keep it fair. I wouldn’t want to beat you too badly. I’ll play from the men’s tees, if you’ll play from the back tees.”
“Sure, not a problem,” he said, pulling his driver from his bag.
“What’s your handicap?” she asked.
“Scratch.”
“Not that you’re bragging or anything,” she said, chuckling. He laughed. “I’m single digits. I play to a nine.”
“Since I’m feeling generous today. I’ll give you a full stroke a hole.”
“Okay. Thanks, I’ll take it. What are we playing for?” she asked.
“What do you want to play for?”
“Drinks at the clubhouse on you if you lose. And I might think of something else later,” she said, and smiled. You rock, Kendall, she said to herself, proud that she’d included that last-minute addendum.
“Go bold or go home,” he said, chuckling. “That’s one approach. What if I win?”
“That’s not even an option,” she said, all confident, standing before him. “You mind if I go first?” she asked as they made their way to the tee boxes.
#
“Ladies first, of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He stood leaning against his driver, admiring the swing of her ass underneath her little skirt, the nice lean brown legs sticking out below it, strong legs with a nice amount of muscle definition.
“Tell me about this hole,” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
“It’s a par four, straight away on your first shot, and your second shot is a dogleg left over a ravine.”
“How far do I need to hit it?”
“From your tees, about two hundred yards. That will leave you with a shot of about one fifty into the hole,” he said, and watched her walk over to the men’s tee, keeping his eyes on her as she hit it perfectly down the middle of the fairway a few minutes later.
“Someone paid attention in class,” he said when she walked over to stand next to him.
“Since I was a little girl, and thank you,” she said.
“You’re welcome. They were worth it.”
#
She flashed him a grin, and they switched places. This time, she was standing on the sideline, admiring him, observing as he stood at the tees preparing to swing.
She followed his movements as he hit the ball, good form and setup, no kinks in his swing. He hit the ball hard, and it followed hers, landing a few yards behind her, near the edge of the fairway. He was a strong hitter, a long-distance kind of golfer, and he was good, aggressive—okay, a little better than good.
“Nice shot,” she said.
“I’m good with most things. You should know that before you go any further,” he said, smiling at her.
“I’ll keep it in mind,” she said, chuckling.
#
“Not a bad little drive you got there,” he said, a minute later. They’d driven over to the fairway and were walking side by side.
Her ball ended up about 150 yards from the green, with his slightly more at 160.
They both walked to his ball first, and she watched him as he played, still impressed by his abilities—the confidence, the focus, his nice body, his smooth and sexy stomach, his strong arms and chest, and the way his lean hips rotated as he compressed the ball. A good golfer too? Can it get any better than this? she thought, and she was back to considering what had been on her mind since she saw him getting gas earlier. It was her time, and he was her man.
She followed his ball as it landed on the green about thirty-five feet to the pin. They walked over to her ball, and he watched her hit, tracking her ball as it lande
d inside of his on the green.
#
Another two minutes, and they were at the green now, putters in hand. He was farther away, and he stroked the putt harder than was needed. It rolled into the cup and lipped out.
“Ah, you almost had that, dude,” Kendall said, laughing.
“I’ll finish,” he said, and hit his final putt, which went in this time. He retrieved his ball and stepped aside to watch her, worried at the very real possibility that she might beat him. He chuckled and shook his head. What was he thinking? She was game, win or lose, so really this was win-win for him.
She walked over to her ball and prepared to putt.
“You need to careful. The greens are all pretty quick here,” he said, smiling and hoping to get into her head. “You wouldn’t want to hit it too hard,” he added. She turned her head and smiled at him, as if she knew exactly what he was up too. He grinned. “Just trying to be helpful.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve played four holes now. I’ve got the speed of the greens down,” she said, turning her head to face her ball again.
“Then you know they break from left to right,” he said, interrupting her again.
She laughed. “I saw your putt, and it didn’t,” she said, back to looking at him and his up-to-trouble grin. “Nice try, though. You mind if I putt now?”
“Oh sure, go ahead,” he said, waiting until she turned to face her ball again.
“Do you breathe in or out when you putt?” he asked, grinning now.
She started laughing this time, amused that he’d made yet another attempt to rattle her. “The depths folks will stoop to for a dollar,” she said. She waited a second or two more to see if he had any further input before tapping her ball in. Unfortunately, it lipped out too.
“I guess we have to putt it out,” she said, hoping he’d concede.
“Yes, we will,” he said, grinning like he’d read her thoughts and was not about to concede anything.
She tapped her ball in. She was up by two now. “What do I win again?” she asked, her smile wide and cocky.
“It ain’t over till it’s over,” he said, chuckling, as they walked back to their carts.
“This must be convenient for you,” she said.
“What?”
“Being able to play whenever you like. The owner doesn’t mind?” she asked.
“Nope. He doesn’t mind at all. As long as I do my job.”
“That’s cool,” she said, looking around at the course. “So you’re like the groundskeeper here?” she asked, stopping as she reached her cart.
“Why?”
“Just curious,” she said.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, bringing his attention back to her words. “Honest work is always something to be proud of. You play really well too, which requires practice. And if the care of the course is any indication, you must work hard around here too. It’s a beautiful course, an exceptional one, even without the fancy club.”
“I’m not the only person responsible for the upkeep of the course. Is fancy what you’re used to?” he said.
“What?” she asked, turning to face him.
“Fancy,” he replied.
“Who doesn’t like the finer things in life? My mother believes in being and having the best,” she said.
“And what do you believe in?”
“I won’t complain at receiving the best either. What’s not to like about that?”
“Money and fancy aren’t everything,” he said.
“True, but they can make life so much easier to endure. Don’t you think?” she asked.
“So what do you do when you’re not playing golf?” he asked, ignoring her question, but adding her comment to his internal tally of Kendall’s unfavorables.
“I’m a professor at the university,” she said.
“A professor. So you live in Austin?”
“Yes,” she said, glancing at him.
“What do you teach?”
“Mostly beginning-level business classes, usually to sophomores. I teach a few upper-level business management classes too, with an emphasis on sustainability, ways to incorporate green initiatives into businesses.”
“That’s interesting,” he said.
“How often do you play?” she asked.
“Most evenings after I work, if I can. Or I’ll play a few holes while I work here after the course closes…makes it seem less like work,” he said.
“I would love to live near here, to be able to play whenever I wanted,” she said.
“You don’t play much in Austin?”
“Nowhere near as much as I’d like,” she said.
#
Hole eight was a delicate little par three that ended in a net push with Kendall recording a five and Cooper finishing with a par. Now they stood at the nine tee box.
“Hole nine is aptly named Devil’s Ditch. It’s a par five, and it’s a bitch of a tough finishing hole. There’s this little ravine in front of the green, about one hundred seventy yards out, that you’ve got to clear,” Cooper said. “By the way, we never did settle on what you would do for me if I won,” he continued, lowering his voice.
“Whatever you want,” she said, the look in her eyes drawing him in until he stood in front of her, like they were more than friends. She was a lot shorter than his six-feet-two-inches frame, maybe five seven. He leaned in close to her and watched her tongue slowly swipe her lips and her eyelids close in anticipation. He didn’t kiss her, though, not yet.
“Let me finish beating you here, and if you’re interested and you’re not angry about losing to me, I’ll show you what I want,” he said through lips that were an inch away from hers, still making no move to touch them to hers. His hand moved to her waist, however, arriving there of its own volition, itching to slide down to her backside. He stepped back instead and watched as she swung.
“Nice shot,” he said, following her ball as it landed to the left of the fairway, ten yards away from the sand trap. They traded places, and she watched him swing.
“Impressive,” she said when LC reached her again.
“It is, isn’t it?” he said, smiling. “Lots of lessons too,” he said, putting his driver away.
Four
“Congratulations,” Cooper said, picking up his ball fifteen minutes later. She’d won. They were standing on the green of hole nine.
“Thank you. I enjoyed playing with you this evening,” she said.
“Me too, Professor,” he said.
“Professor, huh?”
“I like it, and you are one, right?” he asked.
“That’s correct. Meet you at the clubhouse?” she asked.
“Sure. I have to put the gator away, so give me a few. Pull your cart to the back of the lot where the used carts go.”
She nodded. “See in you five?”
“You will,” he said.
This was a nice way to spend the evening, Kendall thought, guiding her cart to behind his. One day away from Austin, and she was enjoying herself immensely. Playing in the company of a handsome man. That wasn’t unusual—she’d played with handsome men before, most recently Houston, but playing with her ex had been vastly different from today’s match. Houston was irritating, with his smug I’m a man and of course I can play better than you, a mere woman attitude, competitive in everything, which had grown old quickly.
The first time she’d played with Houston, he’d taken his early defeat well, laughing after she beat him on the first few holes. Then she’d continued to win, and it suddenly wasn’t so funny anymore. He’d grown quiet and doubled his efforts to beat her, not that it had helped any. He hadn’t, couldn’t beat her, and he’d turned out to be quite the sore loser. What had she been thinking, spending her time with a man who couldn’t handle a winning woman?
#
“So what did you think? You enjoy your first time on our golf course?” LC asked. He
’d gotten to the clubhouse first in spite of what he’d said. Putting away her golf cart had taken her longer than she’d thought, and again, she was impressed at the level of thought that had gone into designing a course that required so much from its players. There was no one around to pick up after you. Not like some of the upscale places she’d played where someone met you at your car, then gave you a lift to and from the clubhouse.
“I did,” she said.
He was standing at the bottom of the steps, watching her as she made her way over to him. The parking lot was empty save for her SUV and his truck. She recognized it now—grey and beat-up.
“Drinks on me, then—your winnings,” he said, bringing her attention front and center to him.
“What if I want something other than a soda for my winnings? What if I want—” she began.
“You can have that too,” he said, interrupting her before she could finish.
That sentence was delivered softly, with a huge dose of sexy in it, a good combination on any day.
“You don’t know what I was going to say.”
He smiled and just watched her. It made her a little nervous, but not that nervous. A record day for Kendall, folks, she thought. Today she’d flirted with a handsome man at a gas station, played an excellent game of golf with the same man, and had been issued an invitation to play a different type of game altogether. Hell yes, and so out of the ordinary for her. “Will it be worth it?” she asked.
“I can’t answer that. You’ll have to see for yourself,” he said, and stood there, eyes locked on hers, arms folded across his chest, cool and relaxed, as if he could take it or leave it.
#
Make no mistake, he was interested, and all that flirting at the gas station, in addition to the flirting that had gone on the golf course, had just been preliminary for him. He stood by the door to see what she would do, to see if all her flirting had been preliminary too.
She took the steps up to the door, put the combination in the lock, and opened it. He followed her in and stood leaning against the door, watching, content to let her set the course. One never knew with women, whether they were all talk and tease or all put up or shut up, so he waited for her to give the signal.
Games We Play Page 5