Page 17 of The Perfect Putt

“I’m sure.”

I look over at her. The sunlight shining through the windows has turned her hair into a bright, fiery red. She’s pulled it up today, twisting the curls into a clip shaped like a flower. A few pieces are left out around her face, brushing against her jaw. Even scowling–like she is now–she looks beautiful.

“If you’re not sure, you can tell me. We have thirty minutes until we get there. Brock is going to want the notes–”

She cuts me off. “I went to college, Miles. Graduated with honors. I think I know how to take notes.” She rolls her eyes. Her hands relax on the steering wheel. I don’t know what it says about us that we’re more relaxed while arguing, but I’ll take this over stilted silence any day of the week.

“Notes for a meeting are different than lecture notes,” I say, trying not to smirk when she shoots me a glare.

“Really? I didn’t know that. No one showed me the difference during my four years interning for corporations.” Her sarcasm makes me grin. “If you thought I was incompetent, why did you hire me?”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m teasing you, Red. You think you’d be able to tell by now.”

“I’ve barely seen you since I started working for you. How should I know if you’re teasing or serious?”

I grimace at her words. Fair point.

“From now on, you can assume I’m teasing you unless I say otherwise,” I tell her instead of acknowledging my absence.

“That implies you’re going to spend most of our interactions needling me.”

I smirk. “It does.”

“How professional of you.”

“Didn’t you notice how I was around Fitz?” I ask her. “We’re best friends. The same is the case for my agent, Brock. I don’t want awkward relationships with people who work with me.”

“During our interview you made it seem like anything beyond a professional relationship was out of the question,” she says in a wry tone.

I think back to the terrible way I broached the no-romance part of the job description. Not my finest work.

Sighing, I say, “While romantic relationships are out of the question, I’d still like to be friends. Do you think that’s possible?”

She tilts her head side to side like she’s considering it. There’s a hint of a smile on her lips. She’s taunting me by dragging her answer out. “As long as you don’t expect me to like golf, I think we can try being friends.”

I chuckle. “I can’t wait for the day when you have to admit you like golf. It’s going to be glorious.” She rolls her eyes. “But no, you don’t have to like golf for us to get along. While that’s my career, it’s not my only character trait.” It admittedly makes up the majority of my personality, but I try to balance it out with other aspects.

She stays quiet as she merges onto the interstate. I should probably look over the notes from my lawyer about the contract, but I want to know more about her. Besides her resume and her sassy remarks, I don’t know much.

“So, why does someone with a degree in business administration start working at Coastal Coffee?” I pause, then realize how that sounds. “And I don’t mean that in a bad way; I’m just curious.”

She sobers and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake. I’m about to apologize when she speaks up.

“A week after I graduated college, my sister’s husband died.” A cloud of sadness passes over her features. “She was pregnant with my nephew, Archie, when it happened. My sister didn’t ask me to come–she never asks for help–but I knew she needed someone. I told her that I could start my business anywhere, so why not Coastal Cove?”

“It was nice of you to come help her,” I say, but I know the statement is weak. Nice doesn’t cover dropping everything to help someone through their grief. But I get the sense that Ellie won’t take any compliments for this. She confirms my hunch by waving me off, her bracelets sliding down her wrist with the movement.

“She would have done the same for me.” Her hand drops back to the steering wheel. “Anyway, I moved to Coastal Cove and helped her as much as she’d let me. Then I fell in love with the town and the beach. It’s my home now.”

“I’m guessing you started at the coffee shop because it was the first job you could get?” I ask her.

She nods. “I didn’t want to commute into the city every day when I was helping Naomi. So I started working at Coastal Coffee, thinking it would be a few months until she was on her feet and I could apply to a bigger corporation and maybe make some more money. But then it was like I blinked and two years passed.”

“I understand the feeling.” She looks over at me with a brow raised. A huff of a laugh escapes me. “Of course, I don’t understand all of your circumstances, but I know what it’s like to look up and realize so much time has passed while you were unaware. When I first went pro, all I did was eat, sleep, and play golf. I focused so much on proving myself that I didn’t have any friends besides Fitz, who I only saw while I was working.” I push a hand through my hair. “It wasn’t until I went to a party for Brock and met a few guys there that I realized what I was missing. We all became friends and I grew close to them and Brock as well. Now at least I have friends to break up the monotony.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” she says quietly as she turns off on an exit.

“So what’s your dream?” I ask her.

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