Page 10 of The Sweet Spot

When I put her down, her brows are furrowed and her lips are pinched with annoyance. I know that look well. It's the same look pretty much every girlfriend has given me before breaking up with me.

Apparently, I come on a little strong. Shocker, I know.

Fix this.

“Don't worry,” I say before she can weaponize whatever's building behind her eyes, “I won't be in all this over the weekend.” I gesture at the chest protector, the shin guards, and the whole sweaty apparatus. “I've got a much better outfit. You won't even recognize me. Actually–” I take her in. She looks fine as hell in her jeans and a blue Catfish polo shirt, “—make sure you wear blue. So we match. We need to look like a unit out there.”

She narrows her eyes with detest again. “I'll wear whatever the sponsors tell me to.”

“Right, and the sponsor for the ProAm is the Carolina Catfish. So good. We'll be coordinated.”

“We are not a we.”

“But you just referred to us as a we.”

“Smile,” the photographer says.

Two photos in one day? What a privilege.

I grin. She does not. The photographer takes another shot and we move to the side to wait for the rest of the pairings. The entire time she's standing next to me waving at the crowd with that locked-in smile.

“If you ruin this for me,” she mutters through her teeth without moving her lips, which is a skill I genuinely admire. “I will make you regret it.”

“Ruin what? We haven't even started.”

“You already caught the worst throw in history. I will not tolerate embarrassment on my own green.”

“If you think that was the worst throw in history, you clearly didn't see Grayson's debut. The guy has all the confidence and women now, but wow. That was terrible.”

“I swear to-”

“Whit, I promise I will shower.”

“That shouldn't need to be a promise. It's a basic requirement.”

“Understood.”

We stop talking the second Chip asks Jess Kwon to come up. Jess does a shimmy for the crowd as she reaches in and pulls out a name, reading it with glee.

“Max Brennon.”

Max strolls over and gives her a polite hug. It’s very noncommittal and relaxed, I should've taken notes; maybe then I would've gotten a better reaction from Whit.

They get their picture taken and then join us at the side. Max's shoulder brushes against mine as he looks between Whit and me.

“We're going to beat you,” he says, flat and casual. Kind of like he's telling me the time.

Whit whips her head in his direction, her eyes narrowing at my teammate.

“Excuse me?” she says, leaning past me.

Max doesn’t flinch. He just looks at my newest teammate and says slower, “We're going to beat you.”

The tension. I feel it between them, and something rumbles in my stomach. Anger? Annoyance? Maybe just hunger since I didn't get my hot dog.

Jess snorts beside Max, patting him on the back. “Love the energy, partner, but Whit will literally eat you alive if you aren't careful.”

Max and I laugh. Whit doesn’t. She's locked in. After giving him a death glare, she looks me up and down. “Can you play golf?”