Page 65 of The Perfect Putt

I let myself get lost in the rhythm of cutting stems and distributing them throughout the jars. It feels good to do something I love. I’m deciding whether or not to add more greenery to the arrangements when there’s a knock at my door. My heart stops and starts again. It can’t be.

I rinse my hands and dry them on a linen towel hanging on the stove before slowly making my way to the door. As I’m walking, I see a vintage baby blue Bronco parked outside through the window. It’s him. He’s really here. My stomach flutters with nerves.

Steeling myself, I open up the door. “What?” I ask and he flinches at my tone.

He looks achingly gorgeous in his fitted black polo and khaki pants. His hair looks like he’s been running his fingers through it, and if it wasn’t for the darkness around his eyes, I’d think he was perfectly fine. He’s probably just working hard for the tournament, I tell myself. I won’t allow myself to think he’s not been sleeping because of me.

“Can I come in? I’d really like to talk about what happened the other night.”

I think of how he’s already tainted my house with memories of him taking care of me. I can’t add to them.

“No, we can talk out here.”

He takes a step back as I walk out of my house and close the door behind me.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way I treated you,” he says.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to protect my heart from whatever he’s about to say.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you away like that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

“Okay, is that all?” My tone is flat. I won’t let myself get hurt by thinking this is more than it is. He feels bad for how he treated me and probably wants to clear his conscience so he can play well this weekend.

“No, there’s more.” I can see a hint of frustration in his expression. Good. He should get to feel how I’ve felt. “After talking to my dad, I was upset. I overreacted and let my past get in the way of the good thing we had going. I thought what I was doing was right but then yesterday I was out on the course with Fitz and I was playing terrible–”

I cut him off. “So you came to see me because you had a bad round of golf? I’m not a good luck charm, Miles. I’m a person with feelings that you hurt, deeply hurt.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “I know that, that’s why I’m here.”

“No, you’re here because you think apologizing will help you play better this weekend. You thought maybe if you said sorry and I forgave you that you could win. Well it’s not going to work because I don’t accept your weak apology.”

His jaw ticks. “Ellie–”

“You broke my heart, Miles. Did you really think that I was going to just say all is forgiven and move on? I’ve been miserable the past few days while you just had a bad day on the course.”

“Would you stop putting words in my mouth?” His voice raises. “I’m trying to talk to you about this but you think you know everything. You have no idea what I’ve gone through these past few days.”

“Let me guess, a few missed shots, you hit it two hundred yards instead of three hundred?” I sneer.

His hands go into his hair and he tugs on it. “You drive me crazy, you know that? You have since the day we met.”

“I could say the same to you,” I shoot back.

“If you just listened instead of throwing this attitude at me–”

“If you wouldn’t have broken my heart maybe I wouldn’t have an attitude.”

“I broke mine too!” I blink in surprise at his confession. “I haven’t slept. I can’t go anywhere without seeing you. Food has lost its taste and the air doesn’t feel the same in my lungs anymore. And yes, golf has been terrible too. But that’s not why I’m here. I’m here because from the moment I met you, you’ve gotten under my skin and I’ve realized it’s hopeless to try to live without you.”

My heart soars like a kite, but I yank it back down, trying not to get ahead of myself. I want to believe him, but I’m still hesitant.

“So, what? You’re saying you want me to keep working for you? To be friends again?” I need him to be straightforward. I can’t embarrass myself again.

He steps forward, caging me against the door. His eyes bore into mine with a wild passion I’ve never seen from him before, not even while training or on the course. It’s like those moments were only a fraction of the frenzied heat he possesses now. His forearms frame my head, blocking out my surroundings until there’s only him. His warmth, his scent, his intense gaze.

“Does it look like I want to be just friends, Red?” His voice is low and raspy as one of his hands slides under my jaw.

“I’ve been mistaken before,” I whisper, a shiver coursing through me as his thumb strokes my cheekbone.

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