Page 8 of The Perfect Putt

“To a hot pro-golfer,” Molly chimes in. I shoot her a look. “What, he is hot.”

“You Googled him, didn’t you?” I ask.

“No, Naomi sent me photos of him. I thought I’d recognize him, but I guess he doesn’t like coffee or he sends someone to get it for him.” Or he doesn’t like Coastal Coffee, which would downgrade his character in the eyes of everyone at this counter. I don’t bother voicing the thought.

“You’re both stalkers,” I say with a shake of my head.

“It’s not stalking,” Naomi defends. “Think of it like a background check.”

“Except more thorough, because we found his seventh grade yearbook photo. He had braces, which is probably why his teeth are so nice now,” Molly says. I put my face in my hands.

“And you wonder why I don’t date,” I mumble. “You’d both get arrested digging through the guy's trash.”

“You cannot blame your lack of a love life on us,” Naomi says. “You could have any guy you wanted if you smiled instead of scowled.” I lift my head and shoot her a flat look.

“See, that’s the kind of look that scares men away,” she says and Molly laughs. Diane looks like she’s trying not to join in.

“I don’t have time for a relationship,” I say and Diane tsks.

“You shouldn’t have to make time for love, honey. Love comes first, and you make time for everything else.” It’s a sweet sentiment, but not true for me. The only people that I’m willing to put before my dreams are Naomi and Archie. Even Molly comes second, though I’d come to help her in a heartbeat if she needed it. I’m not going to take time away from working toward my goals for any guy.

“Even if I did have time, none of the guys in Coastal Cove are eligible. They’re either old, married, or both.” I hold a hand up when Molly opens her mouth. “And I’m not dating a tourist. Most of them are finance guys who come to golf,” I gag on the last word.

“You really need to change your attitude around the sport since you’re working for a golfer now,” Molly says.

I roll my eyes and take another bite of pie. Diane wears a secret smile as she fills our drinks. A bell rings behind us, signaling the entrance of another patron.

“Golf isn’t a sport, all you do is ride a golf cart around and hit a ball with a metal stick.” I feed Archie a little bit of whipped cream, ignoring the look Naomi gives me in response. “There’s nothing athletic about it. Football? That’s a sport. Hockey? Sport. Baseball? Boring as all get-out, but still a sport. Golf however is not. It’s just an excuse for pretentious rich people to talk about each other inconspicuously.”

“Ellie,” Molly interrupts me with wide eyes.

“No, Molls, I don’t care if anyone hears me. It’s ridiculous that they’d be offended by the truth. I mean, I might as well go down to Shelly’s Beauty Parlor and listen to the little old ladies gossip all day. It’s the same thing. At least what Shelly does requires actual skill.” I punctuate my monologue with a bite of pie, confused as to why Molly looks at me like she’s worried for my life, while Naomi and Diane look like they’re holding in laughter.

“It’s nice to know how you really feel,” a slightly familiar teasing voice says from behind me. I freeze, my fork clattering to my plate. “It must have been hard to hold all of this in during our interview.”

Naomi takes Archie from me, her lips pressed together. I slowly spin the barstool around to face none other than Miles Day, my future boss. Quickly as I can, I school my expression into one of cool indifference.

“Miles,” I greet in as level a voice I can manage. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Pretentious rich guys eat too.” I clench my toes to keep from cringing at his words.

“This just doesn’t seem like your kind of place,” I say instead of acknowledging his words. Maybe I should apologize, but I was just telling the truth. If I said I was sorry, I’d only be sorry because he heard me, not for saying it. And that feels worse than not apologizing.

“Because of my job?” I grimace. “You know, I didn’t peg you for the judgmental type during our interview, so this comes as a surprise,” he says, my lips part in shock. Molly chokes on a laugh beside me. I elbow her, but that only makes her giggle more. Miles’ grin grows. He clearly doesn’t care about my thoughts and is just trying to get under my skin. Which wouldn’t bother me except it’s working.

“It’s not judgmental to have a differing opinion,” I say and cross my arms.

“No, but I think assuming that someone wouldn’t come to a certain restaurant based on their occupation fits the definition.”

“If you come here so often, how come I’ve never seen you?” I dodge his accusation by making a challenge of my own. I’m here enough to know I would have remembered seeing him.

“Since I’m so busy with my job that requires no skill,” he throws my words back at me, but with a playful smirk attached. “I usually come in through the back and grab my food to-go these days. I’ve been coming here since I was in elementary school, so they don’t mind me in the kitchen. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Diane?” He looks over my shoulder and winks.

“Leave sweet Ellie alone,” Diane chides. Miles raises a skeptical brow at the word sweet. “You need to have that ego of yours checked now and again. This town puts you on a pedestal.” I smirk at Diane’s words.

“I can’t believe you’re taking her side. I thought you loved me,” Miles says, placing a hand on his chest in mock offense.

“I do, which is why I know that you get a little too big for your britches sometimes.” I bite back a smile. “Now do you want your usual or do you want to whine some more?” I duck my head and let out a laugh at Diane’s sass.

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