“It’s not technically closed. It’s open for a private event.”
She pushed her sunglasses up into her hair. “There is literally no one here.”
“That’s the point.” I grinned.
She twisted her body sideways. “What did you do?”
I turned the car off and unbuckled my seat belt. “I rented it out for a few hours.”
Her mouth parted open. “You did what?”
I shrugged like it was no big deal. “I thought it would be more fun without a crowd.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “You mean fewer people staring and asking you for selfies?”
“That too,” I admitted.
Renting this place might have been overkill, but watching her step out of my Audi in a pair of tight jeans and a form-hugging top, while the afternoon sun shone down on her, was totally worth it.
Becca turned slowly in a circle as if she were trying to make sense of my outrageous idea. “I’ve never been to a driving range before.”
“Really?” I said, grabbing her hand and leading her to the entrance.
She shook her head. “Not once. I’ve done mini golf but never this.”
“Well, you’re in luck. They have a mini golf course too.” I bumped her shoulder playfully. “You can show off your skills.”
“Don’t get too excited. I only went a few times while on vacation with my parents. Once with my friends in high school.”
The place smelled of freshly cut grass as we walked through the gate and stepped inside. There was a young kid behind the counter, greeting us with a smile.
“You know, most people go on normal dates.” There was amusement in her voice, but I think she liked the idea of it being just the two of us.
“That is true, but if you’re looking for a normal guy, that ain’t me, sweetheart.”
I passed the kid a one-hundred-dollar bill and thanked him. He grabbed his backpack and scattered off, leaving us with the whole place to ourselves.
She laughed softly as she watched the kid jog out the door. “I still can’t believe you did this. You don’t think this is a little over the top?”
“Nah. An empty driving range means that I have you all to myself without any interruptions.”
I grabbed two buckets of balls while Becca went over and picked out her club. I tried hard not to stare at how her hips swayed in those fitted jeans.
I needed to focus and behave and not come across as a creep who couldn’t keep my hands to myself.
Becca grabbed a club without hesitation. She walked over to the green tee mat like she’d done this a million times.
I stood back and crossed my arms, watching her line her ball up with way too much confidence for a girl who had just grabbed the wrong club.
“Want some help?” I asked, trying to hold back my grin.
“I didn’t realize you were a golf instructor too.”
I chuckled and pushed away from the divider. “Feet apart and bend your knees,” I said, stepping up behind her, which was a big mistake. The scent of her shampoo hit me. It was something light and sweet, making it hard to concentrate.
She glanced at me over her shoulder. “I know that. I don’t need instructions.”
I held my hands up and backed away, not bothering to mention that she grabbed a wedge instead of a driver.
