Page 48 of The Perfect Putt

“How far is this from where we were?”

I get out of the cart and walk around to my bag. She turns in her seat, watching me. “About three hundred yards.”

Her mouth drops. I can’t help the satisfaction that rolls through me at her shock.

“Impressed, Red?” I ask with a smirk.

She sits back and crosses her arms. “Not yet, but this is a step in the right direction.”

It doesn’t surprise me even a little that it’s going to take more than a good hit to impress Ellie. But knowing that I’m on the right track has me feeling like I’m floating rather than walking. I’ll get her to like golf. Because like I said earlier, I play to win. And I plan on winning her over.

Chapter twenty-four

Ellie Hart

“So after nine holes does it turn into a new game where you hit it into the woods and have to find it?” I ask and Miles shoots me a glare.

We’re on hole eleven, and this is the second time he’s hit it into the woods. Not very far, but enough to make us detour.

“Do you think you’re funny?” he asks as he grabs a club out of the back. I have no idea what kind it is–I didn’t even know there were different ones until today–and he doesn’t tell me which it is. Probably because he’s mad at me for making fun of him.

The thing is, I’m not teasing him just for the sake of it. He’s gotten more and more tense as time has gone on. It seems like golf is a sport that requires a lot of focus, but I can tell he’s too in his head. Maybe it’s presumptuous of me to think that my teasing could help, but he was a lot better earlier today when he was relaxed and joking about how little I knew.

“I don’t know how golf works. You’re the professional here. I figured you were hitting it into the woods on purpose.”

“You thought I was botching my score on purpose.” His tone is dry as he steps up to the ball. He taught me how to keep score in the little leather booklet he carries around. I’ve been doodling little flowers on all the pages when he’s not looking. Hopefully, they’ll make him smile during his next round.

“No, I thought the game had changed and you forgot to mention it. Like how you grabbed that club and didn’t tell me what it was.”

He runs a hand over his face. “The game has not changed. And I’m using a 7-iron, the same I used last time I hit it out of the woods.”

“Oh! So they make a special club for hitting it out of here. That seems strange if you’re not supposed to hit it into the woods in the first place.”

“It’s not–” he cuts himself off with a sigh. “Give me a second to hit this. The faster I finish, the faster we can get out of here. I know you’re bored.” He pulls the club back.

I frown. “I’m not bored.”

His club stops in the air. “You’re not?” He lowers the 7-iron and turns to face me head-on. “You’ve been doodling in my scorebook and now you’re clearly messing with me so I’ll get mad enough to take you home.”

“I was drawing in your notebook because I thought it would make you laugh during your next game. And I’m messing with you because you’re wound up tighter than Naomi after Archie hasn’t had a nap all day.”

“You’re really not bored?” Skepticism coats his voice.

“For someone who was so set on proving me wrong, you must think quite poorly of your own sport to assume I’m bored halfway through.”

He gives me an unamused look. I give him a pointed one right back.

“It’s not the most exciting thing in the world, but I’ve enjoyed learning about it. And it’s impressive how precise you are–well have been, I suppose. So, I’m having as much fun as a person could while watching one guy hit a ball around. I think it will be more entertaining at the tournament when you have some competition.”

There. I was as honest as I could be. I think we both came in knowing I’m not likely to become a golf fanatic overnight, but the fact that I haven’t asked to go home yet with as hot as it is outside is saying something. It has to be pretty great to get me to forfeit AC. Though, my perseverance may say more about my feelings for Miles than it does about my feelings toward golf.

“I’m sorry.” He leans his club against the cart, then pulls his Titleist ball cap off his head and rakes a hand through his hair. “I wanted you to enjoy yourself and when it started to feel like you weren’t, I got frustrated. Not with you, but with myself for expecting you to love it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I was more worried for you than anything. I didn’t want you to start whacking a tree with your club.”

He chuckles. “I was tempted when we drove over here. I knew I needed to relax, but I just couldn’t. That’s the thing about golf: if you mess up once, it’s easy to get in your head and ruin a whole day of it.”

“Has that happened to you before?”

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