“Good eye. Right. So it may be on the course, because there’s a tournament that starts tomorrow.”
“Why would Brenda do that?” Zaila asked as we went outside. “Seems unsportsmanlike.”
“Probably because they goofed on the scheduling,” I said. “We got a discount on our typical rate, but my guess is that Brenda’s ability to control the damage is much smaller than she thinks.” I pointed. “The course is there, and our cart isn’t one of the ones out front. We’re going rogue.”
“What does that mean?” Zaila asked with a laugh.
I turned to face my…intern. “You said you wanted to win. Well, I only win. So, we’re going to take the necessary measures to ensure a W.”
She narrowed her eyes, though I wasn’t sure if it was against the sun or for me, specifically. “Ethically.”
I scoffed. “I don’t cheat to win. Normally I just glare, and people cave.”
“Oooh, so intense,” Zaila snarked.
“That’s awfully sassy for someone who hasn’t proven her abilities.”
“I beat Jay,” Zaila said, raising her chin. “And our golf cart is at that tee—there.” She pointed.
We jogged up to the cart and were searching it for the clue when a red-faced woman in a visor stormed over, her driver lifted over her head. She waggled it at us.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded.
“Ma’am, we’re just?—”
“This is my lucky cart.” She poked the driver closer to my chest. Zaila pulled in a breath. “I’m about to break eighty for the first time.”
Zaila stepped in, her voice smooth as silk. “We apologize for the confusion. We’re part of a scavenger hunt and thought this was our assigned cart.”
The woman’s face softened, but she still eyed us with suspicion as she got behind the wheel. “I see. Well, good luck.”
As she sped away, Zaila turned to me with a smirk. “So much for your billionaire charm, huh?”
I rubbed my hand down the back of my neck. “I’m more effective with the hockey crowd. She was scary.”
“Lucky for you, I got the clue.” Zaila held up another picture, her face beaming with a dazzling smile.
“Where was it?”
“Taped under the passenger seat. Says we need to take a picture of this cake before it’s cut, which will happen for the afternoon tea…” She glanced around. “I don’t know what time it is, so I guess we should trot back over there now to get it done.”
I glanced at my watch, shaking my head. Zaila wasn’t the first of her generation I’d noted who seemed averse to clocks. I knew they used their phones, but a quality watch was so much better. But we didn’t have time for my lecture on the matter because we had a competition to win. “It’s two.”
“And the cake’s cut at two thirty.” She peered more closely at the photo. “I think that’s the main hall.”
She showed me the picture, and I squinted at the surroundings before nodding. “Looks like.”
Zaila trotted back up the hill toward the main hall in the distance. “I guess I’ll get my steps in today.”
I was pretty sure she got them every day, as did I, but I appreciated her positive outlook on this rather silly game.
Our clue led us to a massive birthday cake, now on display in the center of the dining room. Zaila snapped her shot moments before chaos erupted as a toddler, moving with surprising speed, darted past us and face planted directly into the cake. Frosting flew everywhere, including onto my suit, face, and hair.
Zaila snapped a photo of the disaster, then one of me. “Got one before he body slammed it, so it wasn’t just uncut, it was untouched.”
The child’s mortified mother rushed over, apologizing profusely. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. We’re only here for the golf tournament. Oh, Zack, look at you…”
Zaila’s eyes met mine, sparkling with mirth, and as I laughed I felt my initial irritation slide into a warmth that had nothing to do with the Texas heat.
