We went back outside, where the golf cart man was now deep in conversation with Paloma. After a moment, he turned toward Cormac and me and waved toward the first golf cart. “You can tee off on the first hole whenever you’re ready.” He smiled politely.
Cormac glanced back at Paloma, who waved us on. “Want to drive?” he asked.
A thrill went through me, followed by a flash of anxiety. “No. I’m a little afraid of falling into the pond.”
He chuckled as he stowed our clubs. I settled into the passenger seat, and he got behind the wheel. We pulled out just as the rest of the team trooped up to the clubhouse.
“We have ten minutes until our tee time, so if you want a drink, go in and grab one,” Paloma told them as we passed.
I glanced back at the group of large men milling around.
“Why are they heading out now?” Naese asked, motioning toward us.
“Because this was Cormac’s idea for his girlfriend, and we’re all party crashers,” Paloma said, her tone as no-nonsense as any teacher I’d had the pleasure of working with at school.
I giggled as the player slunk into the building, properly cowed. “I like her,” I said.
Cormac nodded. “Good. She’s been an important part of the team for years. Keeps us in line.”
“That’s why I like her.”
Cormac stopped the cart at the designated spot, and I slid on my golf glove and pulled out my tee, ball, and club.
“Want to hit first?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“All chivalry?”
He grinned, his teeth white against the shadow of his visor. “Nope. I’m still taking notes on your form.”
I winked as I sashayed past him. I settled my ball, then looked down the fairway. Once I widened into my stance, I swung back and forward. The club hit the ball just like Denny had taught me, and it sailed down the green in a smooth parabola.
Cormac whistled. “Hella shot, pretty girl.”
I grinned, pleased as the ball rolled to within fifty yards of the pin, even as I pulled my tee and moved out of Cormac’s way. He frowned, lips pursed in concentration as he drew his club back and hit the ball.
He grunted as his ball rolled to a stop about thirty feet to the left of mine—at the edge of a sand trap.
Cormac’s athleticismshowed itself throughout the eighteen holes. He had more power and stamina than I did, but I had a good feel for the sport.
“That’s the game,” I said as he tapped in his final putt. I handed him the scorecard, and he added up his total.
“Seven over par for me,” he said. “Par for you.”
“Women’s par for me. That’s different.”
“You’re a woman, so you get par. You beat me by seven strokes.”
“That’s not exactly true—”
He tugged me close, ignoring how our visors hit, and kissed me.
“Tongue her later. I want to finish my game,” Naese yelled as Maxim careened the cart toward us. I grinned into the kiss, but Cormac grumbled.
“Show some respect to the lady,” he called.
“Oh, right. Please tongue her later—ow!”
