The Long Shot

by A. L. Brooks

  Jenny, Toby, and Diane were already down in the lobby, their equipment bags at their feet.

  “Good morning,” Adrienne said breezily as she reached them, and she gave them all her widest smile.

  “Hey, boss. Here, coffee.” Jenny thrust the large cup forward, and Adrienne took it gratefully.

  “You, young lady, will go far in this business,” she said, nodding sagely before taking her first sip.

  “Suck-up,” Toby said, then laughed when Jenny stuck her tongue out at him.

  Diane, always the quiet one, rolled her eyes, but she smiled too.

  “Okay, ready to go?” Toby asked, as he bounced on his toes.

  Adrienne smiled and nodded, ignoring the lurch in her stomach.

  The drive to the course took less than fifteen minutes, and no more than ten minutes after they’d arrived, they were walking toward the press area. It was a cool morning, but the sun tried vainly to break through the low, hazy cloud. Around them, small crowds of people flowed like water, excited chatter emanating from them like static on an old-fashioned radio.

  Adrienne waved at everyone she knew, and with each step she took, her assuredness increased and her posture strengthened. All that poise almost deserted her, however, when she caught sight of Morgan coming out of the clubhouse with Harry, but she forced herself to keep her focus on remaining as professional as possible.

  If only Morgan didn’t look so delectable in the mint-green, short-sleeved polo shirt and white three-quarter-length pants, a white sweater draped over her shoulders, her tanned biceps on prominent display.

  “Morgan!” Jenny called, furiously waving one arm. “Over here!”

  Okay, here we go.

  Adrienne pulled herself up to her full height and plastered a bright-but-not-overly-so smile on her face as she waited for Morgan to join them.

  “Good morning,” Morgan said quietly as she drew up alongside Jenny, who beamed in response.

  Harry nodded at them all, clearly eager to get this part of the day over with as soon as possible, if his scowl was anything to go by.

  Adrienne could empathize.

  “Good morning,” she replied. She made sure her eyes didn’t linger on Morgan’s for too long.

  Morgan’s gaze darted left and right; she looked as uncomfortable as Adrienne felt.

  “So, ready to get out there and kick their butts?” Jenny asked, a chuckle in her voice.

  Morgan visibly relaxed. She turned away from Adrienne and focused on Jenny. “You bet.”

  “Cool.” Jenny flipped open her notebook. “We’re going to be tracking your first round today, but I promise you won’t even know we’re there, okay? Right, boss?” She turned back to Adrienne, her look expectant.

  “Absolutely,” Adrienne said coolly. Her mantra of stay professional, stay goddamn professional cycled through her mind. “Please do tell us if we encroach on your boundaries at any point.”

  “You bet I will,” Harry growled.

  They all chuckled, but their laughter died quickly at the fierce look in his eyes.

  Morgan appraised Adrienne, her eyes slightly narrowed.

  Adrienne looked away, not daring to get caught in that gaze. “Okay, team, let’s get set up and leave Morgan to do her own prep.”

  Toby and Diane smiled, and Toby tapped his head in a small salute before they both strode off toward the first tee.

  “Good luck.” Jenny smiled at Morgan, and a faint blush formed on her cheeks when Morgan smiled warmly back.

  “Thank you.”

  Morgan flicked one last glance at Adrienne. It was brief, but the pain it illuminated cut Adrienne to the bone. Then Morgan turned and walked away, Harry smoothly falling into stride beside her.

  Adrienne’s stomach finally relaxed, but that did nothing to alleviate the ache in her heart.

  “Goddammit,” Morgan muttered as her tee shot on the fifteenth veered left, way too left.

  “Left!” she shouted next, waving her arm to warn the crowd.

  People ducked, threw their arms up over their heads, or gazed aimlessly at the sky, as they searched in vain for a small white ball dropping out of the cloud. From the sudden parting of a section of spectators near the path that paralleled the fairway, she had a pretty good idea where her ball had touched down and could now only hope it had a decent lie.

  She reined in her temptation to hurl her driver into the shrubs that fenced in the tee and took two deep breaths before she turned and handed the club back to Harry, whose expression was impossible to read.

  This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the worst round of golf she’d played in a long time. She was one over par, which didn’t sound terrible unless you glanced up at one of the big scoreboards dotted around the course and saw that the leader was five under. Six shots behind and she still had this hole and three more to play.

  Okay, so think positive. That’s four chances to get some of those shots back. Although perhaps not on this hole, now that she’d gone so far left on her drive. But maybe the last three, each of which certainly offered the chance of a birdie—if only she could get her head back in the game.

  I should never have agreed to this damn documentary.

  She set off down the fairway, her strides purposeful.

  I certainly shouldn’t have kissed the damn documentary maker.

  She tried hard to compose herself before she spoke to Harry.

  “So,” he said quietly and stepped in close. “If we’re lucky, you’re on some of that grass that’s already been trampled by the spectators. Of course, you could be stuck behind one of those big-ass trees, in which case, we’re fucked. Could be looking at playing some little squirt of a shot just to get back on the fairway.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, mortified as tears pricked at her eyes. Why the hell couldn’t she get all her emotions back in the box she’d crammed them into the night before?

  “Is there something going on? Are you sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick. I’m…” God, this was hardly the time or place, was it? “Look, my head’s just not here today, and I’m really sorry. I’ll try hard to get out of the mess of this hole and focus on the next three. Maybe if I can grab birdies on two of them, that’ll put me in a better position.”

  “It will, but I’ll be honest, I don’t really care about your score right now.”

  She risked a glance at him, and the worry on his face touched her even as it threatened to make her tears spill over.

  Her gaze caught on movement parallel to Harry’s shoulder. Adrienne. She and the team were walking the course as planned, and Morgan wished to hell they weren’t. She’d tried so hard to ignore them, to ignore Adrienne. When they’d met first thing that morning, it was obvious Adrienne wanted to put the kiss behind them, doing everything she could not to look at Morgan or engage with her any more than she had to. So Morgan had tried to do the same, to be professional, cool, and collected. The trouble was she’d focused so hard on shutting Adrienne out of her mind, she’d lost her concentration on her actual game.

  She pulled her gaze away from the stirring sight of Adrienne marching along in her navy-blue pantsuit, her bag slung across her shoulder, her leather notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. When she did finally manage to pull her gaze back, she found Harry staring at her, his expression knowing.

  Morgan opened her mouth to speak, then shut it again. He wasn’t stupid; he’d clearly figured it out. Nothing she said now would make any difference.

  They marched on, veering to the left when they saw the section in the crowd that had been parted and pushed back by the course officials around where her ball had presumably come to rest. She summoned polite smiles for the crowd when they applauded and called encouragingly. Then she saw how her ball had landed and only just smothered a groan. It was, as Harry had feared, backed up behind one of the big-ass
trees. Shit.

  “Come on, Morgan!” someone yelled. “You can do it!”

  You know what, my friend, I really don’t think I can. Not this time.

  She exhaled and turned to confer with Harry.

  “I don’t think she’s ever played so badly.”

  Jenny looked visibly upset, and Adrienne bit back her irritation. They were here to do a job, not get so invested in the subject of their project.

  Uh-huh. You should try remembering that yourself.

  It had been painful to watch this round disintegrate for Morgan, she had to admit. She knew golfers had days like this, days where nothing quite worked and they could never quite pull it together. But seeing it happen to someone she knew and liked from up close was hard to witness. Especially when she felt responsible for it. The hurt in Morgan’s eyes earlier made it crystal clear how she felt, so now Adrienne was racked with guilt over her role in putting Morgan off her game.

  “Unfortunately, she’s just having one of those days.”

  Adrienne knew it sounded trite, but the white lie was all she could muster. God knew she wasn’t going to tell Jenny the truth. She fought so hard against an urge to walk over to Morgan and pull her close. To hug that frown off her face, smooth down her hair, and whisper soft words of encouragement and hope. Why am I so drawn to her? Is it some latent maternal instinct I never knew I had? It wasn’t, though. She knew that for sure. There was nothing maternal at all about what she felt for Morgan Spencer.

  She stayed where she was and settled for grinding her teeth in frustration. She watched Morgan size up the shot she needed to play. Adrienne knew Morgan would likely lose another shot on this hole and then only had three more to play to repair some of the damage. And the way she’s playing, that seems a remote possibility.

  Harry finally stepped back, the officials called for quiet, and Morgan approached the ball.

  Adrienne leaned in next to Toby, who had zoomed his camera in to highlight Morgan, tall and steady, braced in position behind an ancient gnarly tree. Her face was the epitome of concentration as she took a few practice swings with her club. Toby had captured the scene perfectly, with the late morning sun shining directly on Morgan’s face.

  She’s so beautiful.

  Adrienne fought down a sudden surge of desire, her face heating at her own thoughts.

  Supposed to be getting past that, remember?

  Morgan settled, swung the club, and pitched the ball out from behind the tree. It landed on the fairway about twenty yards ahead. Polite applause surrounded them, and Morgan vaguely acknowledged it with a wave before turning back to Harry to hand him the club. As she did so, her gaze met Adrienne’s. Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and she shook her head, almost imperceptibly, then strode off the path and back onto the fairway.

  Harry turned to see what she’d looked at, and he caught Adrienne’s eye. His gaze was stern, yet there was something else there, something understanding.

  Adrienne sighed and turned away.

  “Everything okay?” Toby asked, shifting the camera on his shoulder.

  “Yes,” Adrienne replied, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt. “Fine.”

  The path at the back of the seventeenth green was as empty as Morgan had hoped. She scuffed the soft wood chips that covered the path and shoved her hands into the pockets of her windbreaker. The sun dipped down behind the trees that hid her from the rest of the course, and the temperature dropped along with it, although it was still warm enough to be pleasant.

  What a disaster of a day. She’d finally carded a seventy-three, pulling one shot back with a sweet nine-foot putt on the seventeenth. Pars at the holes on either side meant she’d staunched the flow of awfulness that had dominated much of her round.

  She’d skipped the press call afterward; she knew Hilton would not be happy about that, but really, what was the point? She knew what sort of questions she’d face, and she had no answers for them. Well, she had one but there was no way she was sharing that with anyone.

  “Why did I play so badly? Oh, well, see, there’s this woman I can’t seem to get out of my head, and everywhere I looked today, there she was, tormenting me.”

  She chuckled. Yeah, that would go down really well.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she pulled it out. Her mom. Again. She’d tried calling twice and now was messaging her.

  I know today was hard, but you’ll turn this around. I know you will. Stay strong, darling. Love you. Mom xx

  Morgan ought to at least call her. She didn’t need her mom’s comfort—nothing would make this feel any better—but she had been brought up with good manners. Leaving her mom waiting too long for any sort of acknowledgement of her attempts to reach out was not something that would sit right with Morgan.

  Harry had gone surprisingly easy on her, although he had suggested they meet a couple hours before her second round tee time to “go over a few things.”

  But Morgan knew the only thing that would fix what had gone wrong today was for her to get her head back to where it needed to be, and right now, wallowing in a tank of self-pity, she couldn’t make that happen.

  “Hey,” a quiet voice said.

  Morgan whipped round, heart pounding.

  Adrienne stood on the path behind her, a long but light coat over her pantsuit, her hair a little mussed from the evening breeze.

  “I…I saw you walk over this way, and I…I thought we should talk.” Adrienne hadn’t stepped any closer, her expression one of sad resignation.

  Morgan didn’t know whether to run or stay. Running would be easy, but staying and hearing what Adrienne had to say, although difficult, might at least help.

  “Okay.”

  “I know I’ve been avoiding you.” Adrienne shrugged. “But I pride myself on being a tad more mature than that, so here I am.”

  “I’m sorry,” Morgan said quickly. “For what I did in the elevator the other day.”

  Adrienne shook her head. “There were two of us there that day. I could have stopped you much earlier than I did.”

  Morgan swallowed. She had to know. “Wh-why did you stop?”

  Adrienne looked away for a moment. “Many reasons.” She looked back up at Morgan. “We’re working together. The age gap.” She paused. “Fear.”

  Morgan’s stomach lurched. “Fear?”

  Adrienne’s eyes widened, and she took a step closer. “Not physical fear!”

  Morgan’s insides relaxed.

  “No, simply fear of what it could mean to be involved with someone again, with…you.” Adrienne sighed. “I’m sorry. For running away, for not explaining. But to be fair, I don’t think I could have explained it that day. I needed some time to think it through.” She shrugged again. “I am attracted to you. I won’t lie to you about that. But I can’t… This can’t happen.”

  Morgan closed the distance between them, her spirits lifted to a level she hadn’t felt in two days. Adrienne’s confession of attraction laid to rest the doubts Morgan had been swamped with ever since the kiss. At least Adrienne hadn’t run away because Morgan kissing her was the last thing she wanted.

  “But if we’re both attracted to each other, why can’t this happen?” she asked softly. She stared intently into Adrienne’s eyes, trying to read what she saw there.

  Adrienne sighed. “Morgan, I just told you. I can’t. Never mind the working relationship and the disparity in our ages. I’m not available. I don’t have it in me yet to let someone else in.”

  “And if you did have it in you, could that someone be me?” She had to know, and she held her breath, waiting for Adrienne to respond.

  “Morgan…” Adrienne looked away again. She jammed her hands in the pockets of her coat. When she finally looked back, her expression was one of deep regret, and Morgan’s stomach plummeted to the floor. “No, it couldn’t. I’m sorry. I… Y
ou’re too young, and we’re in different places in our lives.” Before Morgan could interrupt her, challenge her, she plunged on. “I really want us to be able to work well together. I think this project is a great opportunity for you and for women’s golf in general. I really just wanted to talk to you today so that we could set aside the…other things and find a way to get past them to get back to working together without this hanging over us.”

  Morgan bit back her disappointment. She wanted to fight Adrienne, tell her the age gap didn’t matter, but if Adrienne felt it did, Morgan had no right to argue with her. She was crushed by the rejection but, at the same time, grudgingly impressed with Adrienne’s honesty. So maybe now that she knew where Adrienne stood, and she didn’t have to lie awake wondering, maybe she could push her attraction away. After all, she really didn’t have time to be in a relationship, did she? And look what the distraction of a gorgeous woman had done to her game. That alone was reason enough to nod, murmur her agreement, and force a smile onto her face.

  “You’re right. Absolutely.” She stood a little taller, working hard to believe her own words as she delivered them with a firmness that she hoped would convince Adrienne they were on the same page. “We’re working on the same project, and that’s all we’ll need to focus on. Are you guys filming me again tomorrow?”

  Adrienne blinked, as if startled at how quickly Morgan had turned herself around. Isn’t that what she wanted?

  “Um, yes. Well, not me. The team will be there, but they’ll also be filming other players from the top ten to give us a balance. I’ll be working on something else back at the hotel.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  It was for the best, Morgan knew that. Maybe tomorrow, knowing Adrienne wasn’t going to be there watching her every move, maybe she could relax and play some actual golf instead of the charade she’d managed today.