Page 161 of Well Played

Her mouth fell open. Eyes blinking rapidly, she asked. “What do you mean? Why?”

“My da died when he was twenty-four.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry. He died when you were a baby?”

Mitch nodded. “When I was two. No illness. Just died in his sleep.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. He missed his da, even though he’d never known the man. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that loss now. He had more explaining to do.“Young Tom Morris—Old Tom’s son—also died when he was twenty-four. He died in his sleep too.” Official cause of death was pulmonary hemorrhage, but many believed, including his mum, that it was because of a broken heart from the demise of his wife and son at childbirth.

Eyes wide, Lana didn’t speak for a full minute. Probably processing the non sequitur.

“I don’t follow. Is it a …” She paused, grasping for the proper words. “Is it a family curse? Men in your family dying at twenty-four? I thought you said you’re not related to the Morrises. And those are only two examples.”

“Two are enough for my mum to fear that it’ll happen to me too. That I’ll die before my twenty-fifth birthday. She made me promise not to leave the UK. If something were to happen to me, she wanted to be close by.” He held out both hands, reaching for Lana’s. His heart leaped in hope when she clasped them with no hesitation. “Mum never remarried after Da died. She sacrificed a lot to raise me and … and made sure I have an education and livelihood.” His voice cracked, a signal of oncoming tears, but he pushed on. “We’re a unit, my mum and me. This is the singular thing she ever asked of me. I canna abandon her now.”

Tears welled in Lana’s eyes. “Especially not when she’s in poor health.” Her hands gripped his tight. “Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” He wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs.

She sniffled. “For being a selfish brat. This whole week I kept you to myself. What if your mom needed you?”

“She didn’t. If she did, I would have told you and you would have understood and let me go to her. Because you are unselfish and the opposite of a brat.” He lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “This has been the best week of my life, having you here. Would that I could, I’d go with you wherever you want me to.”

Lana raised her hand to cup his cheek. “I came here to find my game. I found it and so much more. I found you. It’s going to suck leaving without you.”

“We will stay in touch, right? Everyday.” Mitch moved his head to kiss her palm. “And when you return, I’ll be here, waiting.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I pledge to you when you ask me again, the answer will be yes.”

Her face brightened, glowed as dazzling as the morning sun that had started to climb on the horizon. He pressed his lips to hers, sealing his pledge with a tender kiss. She responded sweetly, accepting his caresses with an eagerness that enflamed him. Before he could deepen their intimacies, she reared back.

“When do you turn twenty-five?”

He grinned. “Championship Sunday of the Women’s Open.”

5

CHAMPION GOLFER OF THE YEAR

Lana

Pullingdown her beanie over her ears, Lana wished it was cold enough to justify wearing earmuffs so she could drown out the noise from the massive crowd attending the final round of the Women’s British Open on this wet and dreary last Sunday of August. Especially the thousands seated in the gallery and scattered around the 18thgreen, showering the world number one golfer, Kelly Danor, with hoots and shouts of praise for her excellent second shot onto the green. From her view three hundred and fifty-four yards away on the 18thtee, Lana estimated Kelly’s ball to have settled around ten feet from the hole.

Lana deliberately averted her gaze from the huge scoreboard by the green. No need to see it. She was well aware of where she stood on the leaderboard—tied for the lead with the Olympic gold medal winner and newest Hall of Fame inductee, Lynda Yo, who had finished her round two groups ahead.

She was also aware of the stakes. Her first win after nearly two years of placing high enough to qualify for allthe tournaments she wanted to enter. Her first-ever major championship, the last of the five and the one she coveted the most. Only the third woman to earn a victory at the Home of Golf. Top five in the world rankings. Winnings of more than 1.4 million dollars, a record-breaking amount. All within her grasp, depending on how she tackled the final hole, named Tom Morris.

Mitch shifted closer to her and said in a low voice, “Birdie ties the clubhouse lead. By no means a gimme.”

Lana looked up at her caddie, who looked so ruggedly handsome despite the unsightly bib covering his muscular torso, and felt all her worries whoosh out of her. The birthday boy. Turned twenty-five today and free of the curse at last. They’d celebrate tonight. And every night afterwards.

He made all the difference in her game. Through the most brutal conditions she’d ever played in—which included miserable sideways rain, unpredictable wind speed, unreadable greens, patience-testing slow play, and sometimes unbearable chill—Mitch had steered her around the course with the minimum of mistakes. After seventy-one holes, she’d successfully avoided all one hundred and twelve bunkers all week and never scored worse than a bogey. Best. Caddie. Ever.

And best lover too.

Warmth spread through her at the memory of their reunion when she’d surprised him with her arrival from Paris after she won silver at the Olympic Games. They barely left his bedroom for three days in their attempt to make up for six months of separation. If she hadn’t had to practice and acclimatize herself to the most unusual summer weather she’d ever experienced—almost like the winter weather when she was last here—she was sure they’d still be locked in there until the tournament started.

“Lana?”