Putting Out

by S Doyle

  “Sinjin, good round today.”

  “Thanks, Tom. I hope I can keep it going for tomorrow.”

  “You and Mark were trading some pretty sharp barbs out there.” Sinjin shrugged. “It’s all in good fun.”

  Tom tilted his head, but didn’t pursue the comment. Luke wondered what the hell had been said out there. “Tell me, we just had Luke Nolan commenting today about the upcoming American and the fact that for the first time, a woman is going to be playing. What are your thoughts on Reilly Carr’s 38th place ranking and her decision to play?”

  “I don’t have thoughts about Reilly Carr. Frankly, I think the rank is a joke. She’s a girl. She plays with other girls. She should be ranked among girls. If she’s crazy enough to show up, she’s going to look like a fool out there.”

  “You don’t think she should show up, then?” Tom prompted.

  “I think she should stay home and bake some cookies. It will be a lot more fun and a lot less humiliating for her. Excuse me, I’m done discussing this.”

  Rye walked off and Tom was left for a second looking like a guppy out of water. His mouth opened and closed before he was able to get out the words, “And back to you. Jim.”

  Luke whistled softly. Any woman in the television viewing audience who had heard Rye’s comments were about to send a very strong letter to the network. He could only imagine what Reilly was saying right now.

  Not sure how to address Rye’s comment, Jim tactfully decided to wrap up the broadcast by thanking the production crew and letting the audience know what time the broadcast would begin for the final round of coverage.

  The director gave the hand cue to indicate that the cameras were off and Jim began to chuckle.

  “Wow! That’s going to piss a lot of women off.”

  “Rye never claimed to be a politician,” Luke said neutrally. He also never claimed to be an asshole, but he sure as hell was one. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Jim.”

  “Sure.”

  Luke removed the microphone attached to his jacket and collected his cell phone. He didn’t have it in his hand for a second before it started to ring.

  He saw the name and braced himself. “Hello.”

  “Did that pig tell me I should stay home and bake cookies?”

  Smiling, he clipped the hands-free receiver to his ear so he could walk and talk at the same time.

  “Maybe he thinks you’re a baker.”

  “Where does he get off?” Reilly demanded.

  “By being number two in the world. Look, sweetheart, he’s not going to be the only guy out there who thinks you should be knocked up and barefoot and standing around in someone’s kitchen.”

  “Jerk.”

  “Correct, but can we get back to the bigger picture.” “What’s that?”

  “You watched the broadcast,” Luke smiled. “I knew you would.”

  “Odie wanted to shove it in my face how far these guys can hit it. Like I actually needed to see it.”

  “I went with the blazer this time. Going for golfer casual. What do you think?”

  “I think if you get any more metrosexual, you’re going to have to officially switch sides. Which, of course, would make Pierce very happy.”

  “Who is Pierce?”

  “He’s helping me with my physical conditioning. He’s got me doing Pilates until my stomach hurts so bad I want to throw up. He says that’s a good thing. How can that be a good thing?”

  “If Odie hired him, it means he knows what he’s doing. You should listen to him.”

  “Like a good little girl?” Reilly asked sweetly.

  Luke made his way through the cars in the parking lot and stopped at his Land Rover. “Absolutely. How’s the press?”

  “Swarming like locusts. I didn’t count on there being so many. Little Creek is filled to capacity and some of the neighboring farms are taking in borders. It’s not just golf writers, it’s feminist groups and serious magazines. Rachel Maddow isn’t taking no for an answer. Gus is beside himself I’m passing the offers up, but Odie thinks it’s best this way and I agree. The lower the profile, the better. Not that it’s helping. The traffic on my webpage caused the site to crash.

  And I’m actually getting real mail. The written stuff people send through the post office. It doesn’t stop. Letter after letter. Some of it…well, it’s ugly if you know what I mean. Plus there is this caller. He’s pretty persistent.”

  “You need to just concentrate on the game.”

  “Right.”

  He could hear her soft sigh on the other end of the phone and wished he could be there to hold her. Which was just about the craziest damn thought he’d ever had. Reilly wasn’t the type who needed to be held. It was part of her charm. Luke had no idea what had gotten into him, but he feared maybe Reilly was right. Maybe he was getting soft. Really soft.

  He made a mental note to eat red meat and drink beer tonight. Lifting himself into the driver’s seat, he settled in and started the car. “Have you hit the ball any farther yet?”

  “Odie won’t let me hit it. Doesn’t want me to be discouraged by lack of results too early on. You should see this contraption he’s got me hooked up to, though. I’ve got all these wires hooked up to me while I swing. I look like a damn robot.”

  “I’ll see it soon enough.”

  There was a pause while she processed what he said. He smiled, thinking about what her expression might be right now. Confused. But maybe a little hopeful.

  “You’re coming back?”

  “After the broadcast on Sunday.” Then because he felt weird about it, he asked, “Is that okay?”

  “You know you’re always welcome.”

  Yeah, but he was hoping for a different response. Slowly. That’s what he promised himself. He needed to move slowly. But he also planned to move surely. “I’ll see you then.”

  “Bye.”

  Luke heard the soft click and disconnected the earpiece. He’d see her Sunday night. He felt good just thinking about it, and he knew without checking the rearview mirror he was smiling so hard his teeth were showing.

  Yeah, he definitely needed some man food. In fact, it might help him if he hunted and killed the food himself.

  Or he could just order his steak really rare. That would work.

  14

  The sound of the car engine interrupted his watch. He lowered the night-vision goggles to his eyes and followed the car as it pulled up next to the side of the house.

  A man got out and walked confidently up the porch steps. He used the hidden key above the door sill. It was an easy key to find. He had found it, too, but the easy action revealed the identity of the man.

  It was Luke Nolan. The enemy.

  He made it a point to know everyone in Reilly’s life and after seeing her that night at the window, he had to know the name of the man. That’s what love was about. It was about playing it smart and making the right moves. About knowing the identity of her friends and family, her passions and her hobbies, so when they were together, finally, he would already know everything about her. Every facet of her life.

  She would love him for it.

  As far as Nolan went, he would be dealt with later. Truly, the golfer was insignificant to his plans. Once they were together she would forget Nolan, his name, his very existence. Their love would blot out all that had gone before and it would sustain her. For the rest of her life.

  If only he could act now, but the attention on her was so extreme it would be foolish to make a move. So many eyes watching.

  She shouldn’t have decided to play in the stupid tournament. He’d written to her to tell her she should drop out, but he didn’t know if his letters were making enough of an impact.

  He’d called her, too. Though that might have been a mistake. He didn’t want to come across like he was crazy. He wasn’t. He wanted to be her friend first. Bond with her naturally over time. Of course he’d altered his voice, it was the smart thing to do, but knowing she’d heard his words was import
ant to him.

  It connected them.

  No, there had to be a way to stop her from going to the tournament. Something that would keep her here. Then whenever everyone left, he could make his move. Something not obvious, something that wouldn’t call attention to him. He pounded his head in a burst of frustration. “Think. You’re smart! Think.”

  Suddenly, a sound to his right caught his attention. He crouched low behind the thicket he’d used for cover for the last few days, the frozen pond at his back so no one could sneak up behind him. Out there among the fields to his right he saw a shift. A rustle in the dry grass. He used the goggles once more to his advantage and discovered he wasn’t alone.

  Early-morning rays of sun pierced through the windows of the barn. Reilly couldn’t remember the last time she’d been up this early since leaving home.

  She also couldn’t remember when she’d been in this much pain.

  “Ninety-six, ninety-seven, ninety-eight…One hundred.” Reilly let her breath out as her legs dropped to the floor and her arms flopped over her head.

  Pierce stood over her with a stern expression on his beautiful face. It only made him look prettier. “You missed ninety-nine.”

  “Haven’t you heard? Ninety-nine is a bad-luck number. No one counts that.”

  “That is definitely a new one.”

  “Clearly, you haven’t been in the reshaping business that long. Did Odie check your references?”

  Reilly huffed as she struggled to get back to a sitting position, and failed.

  Pierce shook his head. “I’ll let you off the hook for creativity. Now stretch, knees to the right, arms to the left.”

  Moving over her, Pierce helped to push her knees to the floor, getting the most out of the stretch to her abdominal muscles. She groaned deliciously as her muscles unclenched.

  “So do you reshape normal folks, too, or just athletes?”

  Pierce pulled her legs to the other side and moved her arms across her body.

  “Normal rich people sure, but mostly I sort of have a thing for athletes. Especially good ones. I called Odie right after you made your announcement and made my services available. At cost, no less.”

  Reilly looked up into his perfectly sculpted face and his deep blue eyes and melted a little. The fact that he was wearing a spandex, short-sleeve top emphasizing his pecs didn’t hurt, either. It was freezing outside, but portable heaters kept the barn toasty for workouts. Pierce always wore a nice sheen of sweat along his neck that made Reilly want to lick it. She might have tried if she thought he wouldn’t be completely skeeved by the idea.

  “A thing for athletes, huh? You know, Pierce, if you were suddenly overcome with lust and wanted to take advantage of me on this mat I wouldn’t necessarily complain.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows, but then his expression got serious.

  “You know I’m…not interested in you that way.”

  “I know,” she sighed. “I thought maybe I could sway you over to the dark side.”

  “Sorry. I’m pretty happy where I am. Now if your brother could be lured…”

  Reilly sat up and groaned as her muscles rebelled against any sort of movement.

  “Sorry. No go there, either. Kenny is heterosexual all the way down to his dirty socks.”

  “Pity.”

  “What do you say to some breakfast?”

  It was early Monday morning and Reilly had finished what Pierce liked to call her warm-up workout session. An hour of stretching, muscle strengthening, and pain. In her opinion, warm-up was somewhat of an understatement.

  “As long as we’re talking about cottage cheese, some tofu sausages on whole grain bread, fruit, and green tea.”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of eggs and bacon with a side of pancakes.”

  “That’s not the breakfast food of champions.”

  Like she had to say a sorrowful goodbye to the idea of Pierce ravishing her this morning, so, too, did she let go of the pancakes.

  Bundling up in winter coats first, they made their way out of the barn and through the well- trod path in the snow that had fallen in the past couple of days. Because of the snow, her training had been confined to the barn and she was getting a little anxious about it. She’d never gone so long without hitting a club and she had an irrational fear she would forget how to do it.

  She did have to give credit to Pierce. It had only been five days, but already she was starting to notice a tightening in her stomach that hadn’t been there before.

  “Hey,” she mentioned as they neared the house. “You don’t think by the end of this I’m going to have one of those ripped six-packs do you?”

  “Six weeks to a six-pack. That’s unlikely. However, you will be so tight in your core, I dare say you’ll be walking around and asking people to punch you as hard as they can.”

  “Cool.”

  They walked up the steps to the porch and Reilly could hear the buzz of morning conversation over coffee. She picked up her step when she heard Luke’s voice.

  “Hey. I thought you were coming in last night?”

  He lifted his head from the letter he’d been reading and nodded his chin in her direction.

  “I did, but I was late. I checked in on you but you were out like a light.”

  “What were you doing checking in on her?” Kenny snarled. “What are you? Her father?”

  Luke glared at him. “Would you please drink your coffee before attempting conversation with anyone? You’re like a bear with a squirrel up its ass in the morning.”

  Pierce casually leaned down to whisper to Reilly. “What about him?”

  “Sorry,” she shrugged. “He’s all dark side too.”

  “Damn.”

  “I’m sorry I don’t think we’ve met.” Luke interrupted the whispered conversation and walked over to stand between Reilly and Pierce.

  “You didn’t get engaged while I was gone, did you? I mean, four days would be a record, even for you.”

  “Haha,” Reilly said even as she rolled her eyes. “Luke meet Pierce. Pierce, this is Luke Nolan.”

  “Oh, sure. I’ve heard of you. You do those commercials for that credit card.”

  “That’s me,” Luke smiled. Endorsement whore. I can’t believe you actually got Reilly to agree to exercise.”

  “She wasn’t a fan at first, but I think she’s coming around.”

  Reilly lifted her sports tank under the bulky winter coat.

  “Hard as a rock. Go on hit me as hard as you can.”

  Luke jabbed his fist into her middle and she buckled over.

  “Not that hard!”

  “You asked for it.”

  “Another few weeks and you won’t feel a thing. I promise. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go grab a quick shower.” Pierce jogged up the steps with too much energy for someone who had just spent the past hour working out almost as hard as she had.

  “God, I hate him. Even if he is beautiful.” Reilly shrugged out of her coat and left it on one of the kitchen stools.

  “Seems like a nice guy,” Luke commented.

  “Don’t worry. He bats for the other side,” Reilly assured him, somehow sensing a tone beneath the casual comment. Not that she had to assure him of anything. Not that he would care. Still, she’d done it, anyway. “All womankind is sorry for it too.”

  “Shucks.”

  “Pour me a cup of coffee while he’s gone, will you? I only have so much time and green tea simply doesn’t cut it. Where are Grams and Pop and Odie?”

  “They were gone when I woke up. Pop left a note about going shopping.”

  Luke found a mug and poured her half a cup. Reilly sat across from Kenny, who was staring at his mug with a still-surly scowl on his face. Underneath the mug was a letter, which had a postmarked stamp over it. Reilly could only make out RETURN TO SE before the mug covered up the other letters.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” Kenny snapped. He pulled the card-shaped letter out fr
om under the mug and folded it so he could shove it in his back pocket. “None of your business.”

  “Sorry.” Reilly knew her brother well enough to know as irritable as he typically was in the morning, something had made him even worse this morning. In cases like these it was best to avoid conversation with him altogether.

  “The postman dropped off your mail this morning,” Luke said as he brought a handful of letters with him to the table.

  “It comes in a sack.”

  “I know. It’s crazy. And the sick things people send. Do you know how many pairs of underwear from men and women I’ve gotten? It’s too gross. Why does anyone think I want their underwear?”

  “I’m not worried about the underwear. I’m more worried about this.”

  Luke held up the hand- written letter and read, “‘I can’t help but think about you every day. Then I think about you playing in that tournament for everyone to see. It’s not right. You don’t belong to all those people. You belong to me. I can’t breathe for worrying’…”

  Reilly tugged the paper out of his hand. “Will you stop? There’s no need to give credence to some sick bastard by reading his letter.”

  “That’s the breathe guy,” Kenny said. “He’s called, too. Which means he somehow got the house number. And it’s not the first letter from him.”

  “How many others?” Luke asked.

  “At least one a day since the day after the announcement,” Kenny told him.

  Luke frowned and took the letter back from Reilly.

  “Along with hundreds of others,” Reilly pointed out. “Trust me when I tell you he’s not the only nutcase out there.”

  Luke ignored her and read another paragraph. “‘I want to take you away from all of them. I want to put you someplace I know you’ll be safe.’ Do they all say stuff like this? About ‘taking’ you away somewhere?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t memorize them. I read the first sentence and then toss it. Now I can recognize the writing so I don’t even read his. Hell, I would trash the lot of it, except some of the letters are legitimate. From girls all over the country who play sports and think what I’m doing is cool. Those I have to answer.”