She holds my gaze as we both set our empty glasses on the table.
“Let’s go to The White House!” someone exclaims, breaking the moment. “I heard they’re having people over for after hours!”
Keira looks away first, and I shake my head, trying to make sense of the weird turn this night’s taken.
There’s some back and forth over it, but the general consensus is they’re all ready to take the party elsewhere. Keira stands to let her friend out, and I unfold myself from my chair to make room.
She fiddles with that hot pink scrunchie on her right arm and peers up at me through dark lashes. “I’m sorry,” she says when everyone else has gone to the bar to close out.
“What’s that?” I ask, leaning down and holding back a smile. I’m totally messing with her, and she knows it.
She lets out a long breath. “I said I’m sorry. I was pissed at my coach, and I took it out on you.”
“And the tequila?”
“That was an accident.”
“Maybe we should start over.” I grin and offer her my hand. “I’m Lincoln. Swing coach, business owner, non-creeper.”
She stares at my hand for a beat before placing her palm in mine. A shot of pleasure races up my arm.
“Keira. Golfer, college student, skeptic.”
A deep chuckle escapes from my chest. “Nice to meet you, Keira.”
We stand smiling at one another, taking the other in, until someone bumps into her again. I motion for her to have a seat so we’re out of the way and then take the chair next to her.
“I think you made a few lifelong fans,” she says, and I follow her slight nod to where Keith and Chapman stand talking.
Chapman lifts his beer in a salute, and I wave before responding to Keira. “Believe it or not, most people were excited to see me today.”
“I thought we were starting over.”
“Fair enough. I won’t mention it again, but just so you know, I did offer my services to your coach.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”
“He said no, obviously. My guess is that I’m not the first person he’s said no to, if that helps your hatred toward all mankind any.”
Her jaw clenches and her features go from gorgeous to glower, which also happens to be gorgeous—so long as she isn’t glowering at me. “Why would he do that?”
“Some coaches like things a certain way and think bringing another person in messes with their system.” Do I think it’s bullshit? Yes. But I’m not about to admit that.
“I’m never going to get my spot back.” She meets my gaze. “I was travelling with the team until last fall.”
“What happened?”
“I had a bad tournament, lost my head.” She shrugs. “Coach replaced me, and I’m pretty sure he’s going to punish me indefinitely for it.” Her dark lashes flutter closed as her voice softens. “I miss it. The early morning smell on the course just before the first group tees off and the buzz of energy as the last pair walks onto the green on the final hole.” When she opens her eyes, her face flushes adorably.
I clear my throat and take a sip of my beer. “I’m sorry. That’s tough.”
“Are you speaking from experience or just being nice?”
“I got looked over plenty of times,” I assure her.
“What did you do?”
“Worked harder, proved I belonged out there.”
She rolls her eyes. “I could win the freaking US Open, and it wouldn’t make a difference to Coach Potter. He hates me.”
“So, do it. You don’t need him to go the professional route.”
She scoffs, but I’m not wrong. Playing college golf isn’t the only way to go pro—or even the best way.
“No, but I do need coaching and experience, neither of which I’m getting. And now I know he isn’t letting anyone else come in and help me either. What a prick.”
“He really that bad?”
“He’s a dictator, ruling with fear instead of respect. He makes the game less fun for everyone.” She sits up a little taller and lets out a deep breath. “Anyway, not your problem.”
“Still, he’s managed to have some impressive seasons.”
“That’s because the team is crazy talented. Coach Hanson, the coach before Potter took over, was amazing. Everyone loved him. He’s the reason the team is stacked. He recruited hard, and everyone wanted to play for him. He left to coach at a smaller school closer to family, and Coach Potter took over right before my freshmen year. Really regretting not going to Duke about now,” she mumbles the last part.
Smith and his girlfriend appear at the table, interrupting what I’m sure was likely to be a much longer tirade.
“Hey, Lincoln,” Smith says, near empty beer in hand. “I just wanted to say thanks for all your tips today. I worked on them all evening. My release is already looking better. I took video, just like you said. And I signed up for an account on your site.”
“Good, I’m really glad it was helpful.”
“Keira, are you ready?” Abby asks. “We’re heading out.”
She stands. “Yeah, can you guys drop me off on the way? I’m ready to crash.”
Smith nods, finishes his beer, and places the empty glass on the table.
“Well, it was interesting,” Keira says, hanging back as her friends start to leave.
“It was really good to meet you.”
“Same.” And with that, she moves to follow her friends out of the bar.
I call out before she gets lost in the crowd. “Keira.”
“Yeah?” She angles herself between tables and groups of people on each side. Those brown eyes soften, and warmth spreads through my chest. I think about asking her to stay. I want to keep listening as she talks about golf with a passion that vibrates off every word. I understand it and respect the hell out of it.
Instead, I go with something much more appropriate. “Work hard, keep your head down, you’ll be okay.”
She seems to let my advice sink in for a moment before she gives a slight head bob and then ducks into the crowd.
5
Lincoln
I sit up with a groan and look around the small, drab hotel room. I slept like shit. By the time I found Heath and got out of the bar, it was almost midnight.
I’d planned on going back yesterday afternoon as soon as the clinic was over, but Nathan found out I was at Valley and wanted me to check on Heath and then, well, the night slipped away.
I only had two beers but driving the nearly three hours home that late with any amount of alcohol in my system seemed like a bad idea. Then, I couldn’t fall asleep because I was too busy thinking about Keira and her fiery hatred of her coach.
I don’t pretend to know if she’s a good golfer just from watching her swing, but I know she has the potential to be, and that’s even more exciting as a coach. So, why isn’t Potter playing her?
I looked through everything I could find on the guy. He jumped around a few junior colleges before landing at Valley, decent records at all of them. Really, nothing out of the ordinary.