“What, the Posse?” He shrugged. “They’re a piece of cake.”
“They are anything but a piece of cake. They are annoying as hell,” she said. “And you said you were afraid of them.”
“I am,” Harrison said. They laughed.
The food arrived, and as they ate, he talked about his conversation with his manager, Clay, and what a prick he was, but such a smart prick, which made it hard to hate him. He told her how he once accidentally but very nearly nailed Clay with a shot because Clay was talking and not looking where he was going. Then he told her about some of the wildest shots he’d seen on tour, which had her laughing. And even mildly curious about golf. Which made Harrison a miracle worker because Amy had never been even a teensy-tiny bit curious about golf.
When they ordered dessert, Harrison winced sympathetically and asked her to call her mother.
“No,” Amy moaned.
“Well, if you’d rather, I can call Sandy to pick us up.”
“Ohmigod. Those are my choices?” With a sigh, she pulled out her phone and called her mom.
Her mom answered on the fourth ring. “Amy!” she shouted into the phone as if Amy had been lost for years and had just made contact. It sounded like someone had found the volume on the Christmas music and had cranked it. In the background, the Posse was howling with laughter.
“We’re playing a game. You should be here!”
“Mom, are you okay to drive?”
“What?”
Amy rolled her eyes at Harrison. “Maybe turn down the music a little?”
“Good idea,” her mother said, then instructed someone to turn it down. “I just turned it up,” she heard June complain, but a moment later, the music wasn’t quite as loud.
“That’s better. Can you come around the lake and get us?”
“Why?”
“Because I got sick on the boat ride over.”
“Oh, Amy,” her mother said with disappointment. “You should always have some Dramamine on you.”
“Well, I don’t usually get sick, so—”
“What are you talking about? Don’t you remember how sick you used to get on roller coasters? Always.”
Amy did not remember that. But if it was true, how come there had been multiple roller coasters? “Mom…are you safe to drive?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course I am! Where am I driving to?”
After an explanation that was longer than it had to be—“Notright, Mom. Left at the cutoff.Left.Right takes you to Dallas”—and another plea to use GPS that fell on deaf ears, Amy hung up. She looked at Harrison. “It’s possible we may live here now.”
“Well, the food is good, so we’ll probably manage to survive.”
They had dessert, then a while later, they waited outside under the awning for Amy’s mother to show up, bundled together against the cold and sleet. Harrison put his arms around Amy. “This has been nice,” he said, pulling her into his side. “The vomit notwithstanding.”
“Don’t remind me,” she said. “But yeah, it’s been really nice.” So nice that she felt all tingly inside. There it was, that telltale sign of feelings growing in her. She glanced up at him. “I have a confession: I’m missing our alone time. Hope that’s not too cringe.”
“Not at all. I’ve been missing it, too,” he said, and then leaned down and kissed her gently, like they were an item. Like they were dating. A friendly, fond kiss with promise of more to come. But then he lifted hishead. “Unfortunately, the Posse moves around all damn night. Have you noticed?”
“Yes! What are theydoing?” Amy demanded.
“Are they maybe Wiccans engaged in some ritual?”
“And poor Hillary is the sacrifice? Or maybe she’s the new recruit.”
