Page 20 of The Perfect Putt

“What makes you say that?” I ask as I open the driver’s side door. It seems like out of the two of us, I have the most energy right now.

“It’s just a feeling I got from meeting him.” She shrugs before getting in the car. I slide in after her and immediately turn it on so I can blast the AC. I shed my blazer, feeling too warm after the walk in the humid evening air.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?” she asks, barely making it through the sentence before yawning.

I chuckle. “I think it’s best if I drive.”

A sheepish sort of smile stretches across her lips. “Thanks.”

“After all you did today, this is nothing.”

“I just did my job.”

“I still appreciate it.”

I pull out of the restaurant parking lot and onto the main road. The city is alive even at this time of night, with people strolling down the sidewalk beneath the neon bar signs. Cape Alamanda is a hot vacation spot and tends to keep late hours because of that. The tourists will be partying well into the morning. When I first went pro a few years ago, I got invited to club and bar openings here all the time. I quickly realized that wasn’t my scene. While I love being around people, I’d much rather go down to Hammerhead Hank’s in Coastal Cove for a beer than get a headache from the pounding bass inside the places here.

“You must have had some terrible assistants if you think I did a lot today,” Ellie says, making me laugh.

“You have no idea how bad they were. But that doesn’t mean my bar is low. You’re doing great.”

Ellie simply hums in response. When I brake at a red light, I glance at her and catch her shivering.

“Are you cold? I can raise the temperature. I was just hot from walking outside.”

“No, I’m fine,” she says, then shivers again.

I shake my head. “At least take my jacket to cover up with.” I reach behind the seat and grab it for her. She murmurs a quiet thanks before pulling it up to her chin.

We fall into a comfortable silence as I drive down Beachside Avenue, Cape Alamanda’s most popular street. It’s been a little while since I’ve been here, so I take in the sights as I drive. When I finally pull onto the interstate, I turn my head to check on Ellie, only to find her asleep. The sight of her so peaceful beneath my jacket makes me smile. And then frown. Because why am I smiling?

She’s my assistant. I can give myself a break for wanting to kiss her earlier. Any guy in my situation would have felt the same. But I can’t have any kind of warm fuzzy feelings toward her. I’m not going to lose the first good assistant I’ve had in years because said assistant is attractive. I grip the steering wheel and stare down the road ahead of me.

I don’t so much as glance at Ellie until I pull off the exit that leads to Coastal Cove. That’s when my resolve fades. My jacket has slid off her left shoulder, exposing the strap of her dress and her smooth skin. Her head is against the window, and her feet are tucked up under her. She must have taken off her shoes at the beginning of the drive.

It wouldn’t be good for her to drive while she’s tired like this, even the short distance to her house from mine. I recall her saying during a drive between meetings that she lives in a cottage in the Sugar Shores neighborhood, so I head that way. Even though I shouldn’t. Once I’m in the neighborhood, I reach over to make another bad decision. I softly shake her shoulder, the warmth of her skin seeping into my palm.

“Hey, Red, what’s your house number?” I ask in a soft tone.

“Hm?” she lifts her head. “Why are we in my neighborhood?”

“I thought it would be best if you went straight home tonight. Which one of these is yours?”

“Twenty-seven,” she murmurs. “I could have driven myself home.”

I smile at her stubbornness. “I know, Red.”

She rubs her eyes, then groans. “I shouldn’t have touched my eyes. I forgot I was wearing makeup.”

I stifle a chuckle at her distress. “You have your keys, right?”

“They’re in my work bag.” She yawns. “Thank you for taking me home.”

“It’s not a big deal,” I say as I pull into her driveway.

I spot the signature Coastal Cove wind chime hanging from the awning over her front porch. Everyone who lives here gets a sea glass wind chime from Buried Treasures. It’s like a rite of passage. The owner Joel makes them from his beach findings. On a quiet day, or if you open your window at night, you can hear the gentle chimes mixing with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Ellie unbuckles her seatbelt before reaching into the backseat for her work bag. I don’t bother telling her to get her duffle bag. I can bring it to her tomorrow. She gets out of the car and grabs her shoes off the floorboard.

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