Page 160 of Well Played

He did.

So did she.

4

LIP OUT

Mitch

“Come with me.”

Mitch opened his eyes to meet Lana’s intense gaze. Her brown eyes, the shade of a juvenile eagle’s, glittered in the dim light of dawn that peeked in the window of her hotel bedroom. “I just did, not five minutes ago,” he said, knowing full well her meaning for this particular ask.

Lana swatted his bare shoulder in mock exasperation. “Not that.” She sat up, pulling the duvet and tucking it under her armpits to cover her nakedness.

She’d offered the invitation in various ways since their Valentine’s date five nights ago. To the golf courses included in her tour package—the Championship Course in Carnoustie; The King’s in Gleneagles; Balcomie in Crail; Kingsbarns, Castle, and the New Course in St Andrews—every day.

All around Fife in between golf games as her tourist guide.

To her bed, every night.

He’d said yes every time to every invitation. He’d given her no cause to think that he would ever say no to anything she asked.

“Come with me to the US,” she clarified. “Be my official caddie. Help me win again.”

Mitch eased himself slowly into a sitting position against the headboard of the massive bed. His heart pounded with the desire to say yes right away. But he couldn’t, and telling her no would send him into a depression. So he stalled. “What’ll happen to your present caddie?”

“I have no present caddie. He fired me.” A pout accompanied the words but there was no real sadness or enmity.

“Are you serious?”

Lana raised and dropped her shoulders in a shrug. “It wasn’t acrimonious or anything like that. He said with the new baby, he needs security, so he’s taking an office job that will give him health insurance and all that stuff. I completely understand, but it does leave me in a bind.”

“You have no other candidate?” he stalled.

“I can probably find one quickly if I have to.” She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “But I want you. What do you say?”

Sweat dampened Mitch’s temples. He had the urge to jump out of the bed and run home—naked if he had to—rather than share his embarrassing tale. Coward that he was, he prevaricated. “I want you too.”

Eyes narrowed and full lips pressed together, Lana peered at him. “You’re saying no.” She jumped off the bed, pulling the sheet after her.

“I’m not … not …” Mitch trailed off. He was, in fact, saying no. Leaping down from the other side, he hastened to don his boxer shorts and t-shirt. This conversation couldn’t be held with any dignity while he was naked.

Lana apparently had the same thought because when he faced her, she was wearing the hotel robe, standing with arms crossed over her chest. Even frowning and barefoot, she looked magnificent.

Time to man up and tell her the truth. He strode to her, stopping two feet away. Close enough to convey his sincerity, far enough not to crowd her. “I don’t have a passport.” Fecking A. What a spineless feartie.

Her face cleared, arms falling to her sides, posture now relaxed. “That’s okay. It’s only the nineteenth. I don’t have a tournament until the twenty-first of March. We have a month. How long will it take you to get one?”

“Five to ten weeks.” Mitch had done the research, just not the deed. He didn’t want to jinx it.

“Oh. That’s longer than I thought.” She walked to the side of the bed and sat, shoulders hunched in disappointment.

He followed, unable to stay away. The coming months without her would feel interminable. He would hoard whatever he could.

“It’s fine. I can find a temporary caddie while you wait. If you apply tomorrow, you can make it to the first major in Texas in April.” Her voice rose in excitement.

Mitch hated to burst her bubble, but he had to do it. Just rip off the bandage, though it would leave a gaping wound. “Lan, I can’t leave Scotland until I’m twenty-five.”

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