He places both hands on his hips. “Weak practice today, girls. Get your heads right and show up tomorrow ready to work harder.”
After everyone separates, I approach him. “Coach, can I talk to you for a minute?” My big, fake smile is starting to make my cheeks hurt.
“What is it, Keira? I’m not going to change my mind on the girls going to the tournament.”
Oh my God, why is he such a dick?
“I understand. I was just going to ask what I might do to improve so I can have my spot back? Or, at least, a chance to earn it back. Before break, I was consistently scoring with the top three in practice.”
“I can’t give you the answers. You have to prove it out there.” He points toward the course. If it’s some sort of voodoo mind trick, I’m clueless. He’s the coach, the sole decider of who plays. Of course, he has the answer. And I am proving it out there.
“Right.”
“Put the work in and give your best every time. And your attitude needs a serious adjustment.” His brows raise, and his eyes widen as he waits for me to respond. He’s expecting me to argue, I’m sure.
“Yes, Sir.”
I’m screwed. I’m already the hardest worker on the team, and he knows it. Golf is my passion. I love it. I want to be the best, not just on our team but in the world. I don’t think that’s out of reach for me. I’m good—really good—but I can’t prove that if I’m not playing.
Abby waits for me by our bags. “What did he say?”
“Nothing useful. Go ahead. I’m gonna stay and hit a bucket of balls.”
“Seriously?”
“I have to get my spot back. I’ll sleep here if I have to.”
She chuckles. “Just don’t sleep with him.”
“Ewww.” Bile coats my throat at the idea of seeing that vile man naked. He’s young-ish, late thirties, and reasonably attractive, but his personality kills any and all sexual vibes.
I’m still swallowing my disgust when Abby elbows me. “Look, that must be the swing coach. Damn.”
Slowly, I scan until I locate him. He isn’t hard to find. Tall, dark hair, bronzed skin set off by dress pants and a crisp white polo that he fills out nicely. His body language, even from this far, gives off an air of confidence.
He smiles at something the boys’ coach, Coach James says, and it’s hard to look away. So hard it’s annoying. I’m totally annoyed by his good looks because of course he’s good-looking. Probably a real jerk, too.
Okay, I might just be projecting my hatred for Coach Potter on all mankind, but I also really despise how the boys’ team always seems to get the outside attention and help.
Abby pulls her hair from the ponytail. “We should go introduce ourselves.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to see that man up close. Don’t you?”
I laugh. “What about Smith?”
“See him; not jump him. Come on, it can’t hurt to make nice.”
“No thanks.” I pick up my bag and shoulder it. “See you back at the dorm later.”
“Don’t forget that we’re going out tonight with Erica and Cass.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten. The promise of alcohol is the only thing that got me through that practice.”
“All right, well, I’m headed back to shower and get ready. Don’t stay too long.”
“Just long enough to work out my frustration.”
“Please, it’ll be dark by then.” She smiles smugly and walks off toward the parking lot.
I head to the clubhouse, splash some water on my face in the bathroom and try to wash away my irritation from practice. I grab a bucket of balls and walk over to an open mat on the driving range. The boys team huddles off to the side, Coach James and hottie swing coach the center of their focus.
I don’t need them, and I don’t need Potter. I’m going to prove I deserve that spot all on my own. I bounce the ball on the clubface a few times, the concentration it requires and the familiar movements calming me instantly.
I can do this.
2
Lincoln
Starting a new business is hard. Exhausting. No, exhausting doesn’t even cover the half of it. Travelling the world, a different city every week, early mornings, late nights, sporting event after sporting event. It’s basically everything I ever dreamed of.
Except for the crappy jobs that need to get done but can’t be pawned off on anyone else, which is my current state at the Valley University golf course. Ah, the joys of being the boss. I’m trying hard not to think about the box seats I had to turn down for today’s Cardinals playoff game. A cold beer and a million-dollar view would be pretty great about now.
I find Coach James on the driving range, instructing his team to warm up and give each of their clubs a few swings. A few of the guys notice me, but I hang back until Mark lifts a hand.
“Hey, Mark. Long time. Good to see ya.” I nod to toward the guys and smile.
“You too, Linc.” We shake hands, and then he motions for me to follow him. “Let’s chat before I introduce you to the team.”
He leads me into the clubhouse and to a small office. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thank you for inviting me,” I say as we take our seats. “This should be fun.”
He grunts a laugh as if he doesn’t believe my optimism. Yeah, I don’t either. The Cardinals haven’t made it this far in the season in years, and instead of watching the game, I’m going to spend my Sunday afternoon giving pointers to a bunch of college kids who expect me to sweep in and make big changes to their game in two hours of work. Not even I’m that good.
I lean back and rest my interlocking fingers at my waist as I study my old friend. It’s been almost twelve years since I’ve seen him, but he’s the same arrogant kid I knew in high school—minus a little hair and plus a little weight around his midsection.
“It’s fine. Happy to do it. You’ve been a big supporter of the new coaching site and I appreciate it.”
“But?”
“How do you know there’s a but?”
He arches a brow pointedly.
“But any one of my guys could have done it. Why am I here?”
“Because you’re the best.”
Well, I can’t argue there.
“Look,” I reason with him, “I’m glad to help how I can, but this isn’t really what I do. Analyzing and fixing an entire team of kids’ mistakes in a single afternoon . . . I’m not a miracle worker. Usually, I work with individuals over weeks, sometimes months or years. And the group clinics I offer cover a single aspect of the game like downswing sequencing or setup. A few hours giving pointers to ten kids isn’t going to make the same kind of difference that I see with my personal clients. I want to make sure you understand that.”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need to get these boys on track. They’re excited about meeting you. They’re a young group, making all sorts of rookie mistakes, but I think they have potential. Smith Jacobson has a good, clean swing I think you’ll appreciate.”