“This is me cashing in on that.”
She’s silent for a few moments before reluctantly jerking her chin in a nod. The couple of teenagers in front of us finish paying at the check-in and take their clubs before stepping out of the way. With my hand still clinging to Aubrey’s, I pull her forward and get us set up.
The kid running the register waits for me to pay for our round before handing me two balls and our clubs. With my sunglasses and hat tipped low on my head, he shows no sign of recognition. In a perfect world, not a single person here tonight would be a baseball fan.
Stepping away from the desk, I look down at Aubrey, the golf balls in my open hand. “Green or black?”
“Black.”
My lips twitch when I hand it over and close my fingers around the green one. “Of course you chose the least fun colour here.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Judgment, but black is a classic. There are more than enough colours around us right now to bring joy to the darkest of souls without needing a golf ball to match,” she muses before dropping her gaze to her heeled shoes. “I would have appreciated a heads-up that we’d be here tonight before I left the office. I’d have dressed more appropriately.”
“A luxury that you may not have gotten from a Tinder date.”
Her glare is sharp enough to cut anyone but me. “I think you’re enjoying this a bit too much.”
“Me? This is all about you, honey muffin. Now, this is how tonight is going to work,” I start, stepping up to the first starting position. The green turf is bright enough to hurt my eyes even inthe dark as I set my club onto it and lean to the side. “Each hole, I’m going to be a different guy.”
“So you want me to speed date you around the putt-putt course?” She asks it like the idea offends her, and that only makes my grin stretch wider.
“Exactly.”
“And what’s the point of this?”
“To figure out the difference between what you view as red flags and what is just you being allergic to men. Plus, it’ll give me more information on what type of guy I need to be setting you up with to avoid another Leo experience.”
“I’m not allergic to men,” she argues, but it’s weak.
I pull my club in front of my body and chuckle. “Have you ever checked yourself for a rash after one of your failed dates?”
“No. Because I’m not allergic to all men. Just the shitty ones.”
Without responding, I close the gap between us and take a lock of her shiny hair between my fingers, rubbing it. “Your hair is so beautiful. It’s like silk . . . are you sure it’s real?”
A shocked pause. She clears her throat and flicks her eyes up to mine. “What are you doing?”
“And your eyes are so bright. Have you ever wondered what exact shade of blue they are? They’re just like my mom’s.”
“Hit your ball, Finn.”
“Only if you watch me when I do, hottie.”
Her glossy lips flatten at the nickname as she pokes me in the back with the end of her golf club. “Don’t make me shove this up your ass.”
My mask cracks as I choke on a laugh. “Okay, cool it. You’re making me get off track here.”
“Just swing the damn club.”
Giving in, I set the ball down and get ready to swing. All it takes is a weak tap for the ball to roll up the small hill and into the hole. I step aside for her to take my place, and she repeatsmy motions. Her ball glides right past the hole, and her groan follows.
“You have the most perfect swing,” I say sweetly.
Poison glistens in her eyes when they find mine. “You’re full of shit.”
“Have you ever considered getting into golf professionally?”
She blinks in response, completely emotionless. “Do you think I’ve ever considered that?”
