I don’t know where she gets her power, but I’m intrigued. She’s setting up another ball, so I hang back and watch. Crossing my arms over my chest, I wait to see what she can do.
She lets out a long breath as if she’s trying to calm herself. Dark hair, which has a reddish tint under the remaining sunlight, hangs over her shoulders and falls in her eyes. She jabs at it twice with one hand, only to have it fall right back in her face.
Resting the grip of the club against her stomach to free her hands, she pulls the long mane back into a ponytail and secures it with a bright-pink scrunchie from her wrist. Her frustration is evident, but I don’t think her hair is the problem.
Finally, she’s ready, and I find myself holding my breath as she swings. She’s more powerful than most the guys I helped today, swinging in a way that makes me wonder who the hell she’s picturing as the ball.
I watch as she hits three more awe-worthy shots before I approach her. “Nice swing.”
“Thanks,” she says without looking back at me. She switches from a driver to a seven iron. This time, she doesn’t hit the ball square on, and it hooks to the left. Her jaw tenses, and instead of taking her time and a minute to compose herself, she goes right for the next ball with a similar result. It takes five shitty shots before she growls her frustration. “Damn it.”
“Can I offer you some advice?”
Her dark eyes lock on to me, and her brows rise as if I’ve totally offended her, but she doesn’t speak.
Trying to diffuse the situation, I step closer and offer my hand. She stares at it but makes no move to take it, so I shove both hands into my pockets. “I’m Lincoln Reeves. I just finished a clinic for the boys’ team. I’m a golf instructor and owner of an instructional sports website. You have power. Those shots you hit with your driver were really nice. Best I’ve seen all day.”
Her demeanor softens only slightly. “Thank you.”
“If you let me record a couple of swings, I think I can show you where it’s breaking down and help you hit it more consistently.” My body buzzes in anticipation. I really want to see what this girl is capable of. God, I love this job.
“No thanks. I got it.” She brushes me off with a flick of her ponytail and tees up another ball.
Well, that’s never happened before. Golfers tend to be open to feedback or will, at least, humor tips from pros at the driving range. It’s such a complicated and yet simple thing, hitting a golf ball.
“Are you sure? It’s no problem.” I can’t get a read on this girl. She’s out here putting in the work, so I know she’s determined, and her body language makes it clear she knows a good swing from a bad.
“On camera, it’s easier to see the nuances. You’re spinning your hips. Your timing is good, so it isn’t affecting every shot, but when it does, you’re hooking it.”
She stands tall, which isn’t really that tall, but my spidey sense tingles, alerting me to danger. I’ve pissed this girl off, though I don’t know why.
“Figures you’re helpful now.”
“Excuse me?” I smile, which is absolutely the wrong thing to do because she glowers back.
“Guys like you show up and offer all your wisdom to the boys’ team like just because they have penises, they deserve all the advantages. Did it ever occur to you to offer a clinic for the girls’ team?”
“I—”
“No, of course not. It doesn’t matter that we have a better record, year after year, or that I can out drive most of them.” She scoffs, tees up another ball, and gets into position. “So, no thanks. I don’t need another man who thinks he’s God’s gift to golf to offer advice that he probably picked up from the Golf Channel.”
Before I can speak, she draws back and smokes it. Chills run up my fingertips all the way to the back of my neck. “Holy shit,” I whisper.
A pleased smile tips up her lips.
“You’re right. Doesn’t look like you need me at all.”
She stalks off, that smug expression painted firmly in place. I watch her until she disappears from sight, the smile on my face so big and awestruck I think it might have been worth trading those Cardinal tickets for.
After leaving the golf course, I meet up with one of the guys who works for me, Heath, for a quick dinner before I head out of town.
“Can I get you guys anything else?” our waitress at The Hideout asks, her eyes not leaving Heath.
Amused, I rest an arm on the back of the empty chair next to me and wonder when she’s going to realize she hasn’t put down the beer she’s holding on her tray. My beer.
“Just that Bud Light you got there,” Heath says with a wink.
“Oh, right, of course.” Flustered, she sets the pint in front of Heath, gives him one last awkward smile, and then scurries off.
Heath wraps his hand around the glass and lifts it.
“Give me that.” I reach out and take it from him before he gets a drink. After a long pull of the cold beer, I ask, “You wanna get us both in trouble?”
“Relax, it’s just a beer. Besides, I look twenty-one.”
“Oh, well then, I guess it’s perfectly fine since you look old enough.”
“I’ve drank here lots of times. It’s no big deal.”
I’m about to lecture him, or at least tell him not to tell me shit like that so I don’t have it on my conscience, as a couple of guys walk by the table and then backtrack when they notice Heath. He stands and the guys chat for a few minutes before he motions toward me and tells them he’ll meet up with them later.
I officially feel like an old man. He’s making plans to go out after dinner and the only thing I have scheduled is a night alone, probably working.
“Looks like things are going well for you. Try not to get yourself into trouble. You get caught drinking underage and—”
Heath groans. “Save it. Between you and my brother, I’ve had this same conversation nearly every day since I got here five months ago. Five months.” He holds up a hand and wiggles his fingers for emphasis. “I made it through one semester, didn’t I?”
His sullen expression makes him look like the teenager he is, and I hold back a laugh.
“Noted. Tell me about the team.”
Heath gives me the rundown on school and the Valley U hockey team while we eat. He’s a good kid. Typical freshman looking to jump off the deep end and enjoy everything college has to offer.
I feel a sense of responsibility for him, almost like a kid brother. I met his real brother Nathan last year through a mutual friend.
He worked for me through his senior year of college, coaching aspiring basketball players. Their home situation wasn’t the best at the time and they both needed some extra cash, so I hired Heath to field the hockey questions that come in from other athletes trying to get an edge.
Though my background is golf, my coaching website spans multiple sports and is growing faster than I can keep up with. Heath is just one of the many experts and stars in their field mentoring the next generation of great athletes.
Heath’s a talented kid who won’t need my help for long if he keeps himself out of trouble.
The waitress drops the bill on the table and slides it in front of me as she gives me a timid smile. It’s the first time she’s given me much notice. Her eyes flash to Heath and he gives her a wink as she hurries away.