Page 29 of The Perfect Putt

“I don’t do relationships, or marriage,” I tell her as I open my eyes.

“Why does that matter right now?” She looks confused and hurt and I hate it with every fiber of my being.

“It matters because Shaw and Sutton think there’s something going on between us.” She stares at me with wide eyes. “They’re engaged and in love and they want that for me, so they keep talking about pushing us together.”

“So instead of talking to me about that, you decided to ignore me?”

I sigh. “I thought that it was the best thing to do. They’re relentless, as are Fitz and Jada.” I throw an arm in the direction of Hank’s. “That’s why Kira was there. I showed up here and she was with them as some sort of weird group blind date.”

She scrunches up her nose. “That’s awful.” Her expression sobers once more. “But it doesn’t mean you get to cut off communication. I could have played along if you needed me too.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t exactly know how to say that my friends were playing matchmaker and you were the target. Please believe that I’d never want to hurt you.”

She looks down at her feet. “I…I believe you.” Her head lifts and her eyes meet mine. “But if you pull something like this again I’m taking Molly up on her offer to feed you to the sharks.”

I laugh. “Noted.” Her lips turn up in the faintest smile and my heart lifts. “Do you want to get out of here?”

Her eyebrows raise. “You’re going to abandon your friends and your date?”

“Yes, happily.”

She bites her lip. “Where would we even go?”

“I can’t believe you have a key to this place,” Ellie says in a low voice as I open the fridge in the diner’s kitchen.

“When I was in school I split my time between here and the golf course. Diane gave me a key so that I could come before school. I never gave it back,” I say with a laugh. My reason behind having a key probably raises quite a few questions. I’m hoping she won’t ask any of them. I made enough confessions tonight; I don’t want to tell her about my terrible childhood on top of it. I pull out a key lime pie and a whipped cream canister.

“You’re sure Diane won’t be mad?” Ellie asks, sounding skeptical.

“I’m sure.” I look at her worried expression and can’t help but smile. “Especially since I texted her before we left to see if it was okay.”

She gapes and hits my shoulder. “This whole time you let me think that we were breaking in!”

“It’s not breaking in if you have a key.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just open up the pie.”

“I thought I was the boss between us.”

She shoves my shoulder again, but this time I turn and grab her waist. Her eyes widen and she sucks in a breath. She lets out a little squeak when I lift her up and place her on the metal counter, making me chuckle. I did it to throw her off, but when our eyes lock I’m the one off-kilter. Her eyes are like swirls of dark chocolate, a tempting abyss that would be easy to fall into. My hands burn with awareness as I still haven’t let go of her waist. Her dress is thin and I don’t have to imagine the warmth of her skin beneath it.

When her eyes dip down to my lips, I know I made a mistake. I take a step back, letting my hands fall to my sides. I flex them, trying to rid myself of the feeling of her curves beneath my palms.

“We need forks,” I manage to say, sounding far raspier than I should while talking about utensils. I walk to the organizer that stores all the silverware and try to steady my breathing.

I thought it was a good idea to bring Ellie here. A way to make it up to her after I was such a terrible friend. But now I feel like I’ve gone too far again, that my instincts were off. I’ve never experienced anything like this. I can always trust my intuition, but every time I follow it with Ellie it leads me somewhere as dangerous as it is alluring.

“Thank you,” Ellie murmurs when I hand her a fork.

She lifts the canister of whipped cream and tips it. I grab her wrist to stop her. “Wait,” I say. Her eyes are glued to my hand wrapped around her arm. I clear my throat and let it go. Why can’t I stop touching her?

“Let me show you how to get the perfect bite,” I say and hold out my hand for the canister.

“Only you, Miles Day, would be egotistical enough to have a complex about pie.”

“Prepare to eat your words Ellie Hart,” I say, then wink. “Literally.”

She tries to fight it, but she fails to hold back a smile. Every molecule of oxygen flees my lungs as I watch her throw her head back and laugh. I feel like I hit a ball onto the green after a day of hitting it into the woods.

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