Page 50 of The Perfect Putt

“You’re not going to break it.”

I could. It might sense that I’ve trash talked the sport it’s used for and just break in half rather than let me use it. Or I could go to swing and watch it fly out of my hands and right into a tree. Either of those seem more plausible than me actually sinking this putt.

“Are you sure you want me to do this?” I ask him and he gives me an encouraging smile.

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Okay, it’s your score card at stake.”

I stand where he told me to, awkwardly holding the club in front of me.

“Now what?”

I look down at the club, trying to mimic what I’ve seen him do while I wait on him to instruct me. I’m about to ask him why he’s not saying anything when warmth covers my back. I suck in a breath. Miles' arms slide around me, and I’m so caught off guard that I almost drop the club.

“First, you need to adjust your grip,” he says against my ear. His hands maneuver mine into the correct position. I think I’ve forgotten how to breathe.

“Don’t hold on too tight.” He runs his finger tips over the backs of my hands. “Relax.”

I take in a shuddery breath and try to do as he says. It feels impossible to relax when he’s all over me like this. My whole body is on fire and my heart is beating out of my chest. But I find it within me to loosen my grip.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot against my ear. “Now close your eyes.”

My eyes flutter shut. The darkness doesn’t calm my nerves though. It only heightens everything I’m experiencing. The salty breeze in my hair, Miles’ hands settling on top of mine, his strong chest pressed against my back. I’m enveloped in him. I want to drop this club, turn around in his arms and kiss him. The longing is so strong it almost hurts. But I stay where I am, too scared to make a move and too intoxicated to pull away.

“Imagine it’s the last day of the tournament. All your hard work is about to pay off. All you have to do is sink this putt, and then you go home with the trophy.”

“And a boatload of cash,” I add.

His laugh is low and raspy in my ear. “Everyone is watching, waiting. The crowd goes dead silent as you line up to putt. They’re all holding their breath. The wind stills. Everything you’ve been working for is riding on this moment.”

I feel the undercurrent of passion beneath his words. He wants me to know how it feels to be in his shoes. How much it matters. I sink into the moment, settling against his chest and adjusting my grip the way I’ve seen him do all day.

“You take a deep breath.” I follow his words, drinking in the summer air. “Pull back the club.” He guides my hands. “And swing.” I hear the tap of the ball and open my eyes just in time to watch it roll into the hole. I gasp in surprise. I can’t believe it went in.

“Now you know how it feels to win a major,” Miles says, a smile in his voice as he steps back.

Before I can overthink it, I drop the club and turn, then throw my arms around Miles’ neck.

“Thank you,” I say. After a moment, his arms wrap around my waist.

“For teaching you about golf?” He huffs a laugh into my hair.

“For sharing what you love with me.”

He hugs me tighter. There’s a feeling of rightness that overcomes me. It’s like when I’m in my garden, or on the beach with my toes in the water. Something just clicks and I know down to my marrow that this is good.

When we pull apart, that feeling fades and is replaced with anxiety.

Not long after moving to Coastal Cove, I went down to the beach by myself to relax and collect some shells for a craft I was doing. I hadn’t been on the shore long before I saw a dark storm cloud on the horizon. It was far off, but it looked ominous compared to the bright sunshine I was standing in. I didn’t want my beach day to be over, but I also didn’t want to get caught in a terrible storm walking home. I had to decide whether to stay and risk the rain, hoping it would pass, or play it safe and leave early.

Looking into Miles’ eyes is like seeing a dark cloud on the horizon. If I stay on the track I’m on, I’m risking heartbreak. But if I leave, I’ll be heartbroken, losing the opportunity for something beautiful. Miles smiles down at me. I make the same decision I did that day on the beach. To stay. I just have to hope that the storm will pass, or that we’ll at least be strong enough to weather it.

Chapter twenty-five

Ellie Hart

It’s been a week since I spent the day on the course with Miles. An incredibly busy week. Every step, every breath seems to be planned from now until the tournament. I’ve worked tirelessly to make sure that Miles’ life is organized to perfection and that he doesn’t miss a single appointment, training session, or tee time.

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