Page 27 of The Perfect Putt

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Molly says with a smile. I hand over her purse and sit on the stool to her right.

“Was it too hard to save our seats?” I ask. Hank’s is busy this Saturday night, practically overflowing with locals and tourists alike. I’m not a fan of crowds, but the atmosphere is worth it. It helps that Hank also isn’t afraid to kick drunken jerks out of his bar if you tell him they’re bothering you. For some reason, guys think if they tell you they work in finance it’ll make you forget about the sour beer smell and lack of respect for personal space. It does not. So after I tell them that, Hank escorts them out because their egos usually can’t take the blow.

“I had to hiss at a few people, but I held my own.”

“Hiss?” I question and Naomi laughs.

“The weirder you are, the less questions people ask.” Molly shrugs and takes a sip of her drink out of a neon straw.

Hank–the owner and best bartender on the Gulf Coast–saunters over to us. With his backwards ball cap, weathered band tee, and salt-and-pepper beard, he looks every bit the dive bar owner he is.

“Well if it isn’t the two prettiest sisters in Coastal Cove,” he says in the gravelly tone I’ve come to know well.

“You flatter us, Hank,” I say and he grins.

“I just speak the truth. Now, what can I get you?”

“I’d love some of the best sangria in the world,” I say and his grin gets bigger.

“Now who’s flattering who?” He winks, then looks to Naomi. “What about you?”

“A rum and coke sounds delicious.”

“Coming right up.” He taps the bar, then points at Molly. “Do you need a refill yet or are you set, darlin’?”

“I’m good for now, but I’ll let you know,” she replies with an easy smile. He nods then heads off to make our drinks.

While we wait, Molly tells us a story about a customer who thought cold brew coffee had beer in it. Her reenactment is complete with voice changes. By the time Hank hands us our drinks, we’re laughing like we’ve had more than one already.

I take a sip of my sangria, relishing in the sweet fruity concoction. I really wasn’t lying when I told Hank it was the best in the world. I’ll need to be careful on how much I drink though, or else we might be walking home tonight. Not that it would take us more than ten minutes, but it wouldn’t be fun in my wedges–or barefoot, because that’s likely how I’d end up.

“I needed this,” Naomi says after a sip of her drink. I smile at her. I might not be able to change her circumstances, but providing her with a little relaxation feels good.

“Maybe we could try to make this a regular thing,” I suggest. While I’d rather spend all my time working toward my business, I know it would be good for all of us to have a break. Molly and Naomi both give noncommittal answers with a sprinkling of excuses, as I expected. Molly spends all her free time taking business classes online or looking for ways to improve Coastal Coffee so that the owners will want to pass it on to her. Then there’s Naomi, who is either working or taking care of Archie. It will take a lot to repeat this occasion, but seeing my sister and friend smiling like this is worth the work.

Molly starts to talk to Naomi about upgrading Coastal Coffee’s website, so I let my attention drift. People watching isn’t a habit of mine, but tourists do make for interesting entertainment at times. I’m watching a girl in a pineapple print dress hit on a guy who is clearly uninterested, when I see a familiar face coming in the door.

“Miles is here,” I say out loud, interrupting Naomi talking about the importance of brand colors.

“Who are all of those beautiful people with him?” Naomi asks and I feel a twinge of pain at her words.

“His caddy, Fitz, and Fitz’s wife Jada. Then his friends Sutton and Shaw who are engaged.” My eyes follow them as they move to a table, trained on Miles’ arm. Or rather the hand on his arm. A beautiful, tan, dark haired woman is next to him, smiling and giggling.

“And the model in the white dress?” Naomi questions. My grip on my glass tightens.

“I don’t know her,” I say through clenched teeth.

“Oooo I’ve never seen a jealous Ellie before. She scowls even more than regular Ellie,” Molly says.

I glare at her, but she only giggles. “I’m not jealous. What is there to be jealous of?” Besides her perfect hair, perfect tan, perfect everything. And the way she’s leaned against Miles as if she can’t sit up on her own.

“Not much to be jealous over, judging by Miles’ face.” Naomi laughs. “He looks like he’s having a root canal.”

I look over, this time ignoring the mystery woman and focusing on him. Even as far away as he is, it’s easy to tell all of his muscles are tensed. His mouth is set in a hard line. The woman next to him seems oblivious though. She flips her perfect hair over her shoulder while laughing, then touches his arm again.

It shouldn’t relax me to see him ignoring her, but it does. Or maybe that’s the sangria I drained while watching them. Hank brings over a pitcher of the red liquid, fruit swirling around in it. I nod at him and he fills my glass. I can feel Molly and Naomi watching me, but I pretend not to notice.

“You could go talk to him, you know,” Molly suggests.

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