Page 8 of Finding Fate

“Maybe a little,” he smirked.

“Well, at least you’re honest,” she said as she went to take her second shot. Her ball went into the hole with just a little tap.

“I have to make a good impression, don’t I?” Wesley asked as they grabbed their balls and headed to the next section.

“Oh, I think you are doing a pretty good job with the impression. Nice restaurant? Check. Opened doors for me? Check. Haven’t tried to make me pay and no awkward silences. Check. That last one’s pretty impressive in itself. I’m usually quiet unless I know someone pretty well.”

“No way,” he argued as she took her next shot, missing by a couple of feet.

“No, really,” she insisted, stepping to the side so Wesley could take his turn. “I just find you easy to talk to. I’m usually not like this around people.”

He shot her that charming smile, “Lucky me, then. I guess it’s a sign.” She blushed as he made another hole in one.

Conversation flowed as they made their way through the course, discussing movies, books, and their similar tastes in music. She filled him in on Bentonville High and some of the people he’d meet when they started senior year.

“Oh, no,” Isabel said as they approached one of the later holes.

“What?” Wesley asked, looking around for the problem.

“It’s the windmill. I can never get it through that opening. I usually rack up about six swings before I even get my ball to the other side.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“Yes, that’s all, Mr. I-make-a-hole-in-one-every-time,” she retorted.

“It’s all in the timing and your aim with this one. The ground is slanted a little on the right…I could help you if you want,” he suggested.

“O...okay,” Isabel muttered and approached her ball. Wesley stepped up, his frame pressing gently against her back. He wrapped his muscular arms around her, and his hands covered hers. Her stomach fluttered a bit, full of excitement and nerves, not caring if it was cliché.

“On the count of three, we’re going to hit the ball,” Wesley said against her ear. “You ready?” She nodded, her arms swaying with his and the putter as he counted.

“Oh, my goodness! You’re amazing, Wesley!” Isabel squealed, turning to give him a hug when they made the shot.

Her Fitbit buzzed, lighting up over his shoulder. “Sorry,” Tucker had texted. “About time,” she thought, frowning, but she’d have to deal with that later.

* * *

“Great game, Izzy. You did really well,” Wesley said as they went to return their putters.

“Oh, please, if we had been taking score, you would have kicked my butt, and you know it,” she replied.

“Maybe so, but you still did well. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, mini-golf is good, but one game at a time is plenty,” she replied as they headed towards Wesley’s shiny, black, Mustang. He opened her door, and she slipped inside the convertible to settle into the soft, leather seats for the drive home from Summer Grove.

Bentonville was perfect for tourists who wanted small-town shops and picturesque beaches, and Isabel loved it, but if you weren’t old enough for the bars, your best bet for entertainment was the next town over.

“You know, Jet would be so jealous of your car,” she commented when they pulled out onto the road. “He and his dad have been fixing his up some, but it’s nothing like this.”

Wesley grinned, “Can’t deny his good taste then. My parents got me this one when I turned sixteen.”

“It’s really nice.” Her hand brushed along the sleek dash and console, knowing Jet would drool if he could see it. “Annie and I saved for our truck. Our mom’s nice enough to pay the insurance for it as long as we pay for our own gas.”

“That’s cool. At least you know it’s yours. This one’s only mine to drive as long as I’m working.”

“How does that work out during the school year then? You can only lifeguard during the summer.”

He shrugged. “My parents are lawyers, and my father thinks it’s important that I follow in their footsteps. I work as an intern in their law office during school months, but I managed to talk them into the lifeguarding thing for summers.”

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