Page 56 of The Wrong Boss

“Okay,” I said, then gestured down at myself. “But I have toadmit, I didn’t bring any golf clothes on this retreat. I’d planned on being on the clock the whole time.”

“We’ll make a pit stop at the clubhouse,” Chuck said, already heading for one of the golf carts parked on the gravel at the edge of the drive. “Get you some clubs, shoes—everything you need.”

The two older men climbed into a cart, then looked at us, already impatient.

Cole’s gaze slid over to mine. “You don’t have to do this.”

I arched a brow. “Don’t I?”

He snorted, glancing at his father for a moment. “It would make them happy if we played a round. And they won’t judge you if you’re bad. I promise.”

I doubted that but said nothing. Instead, I marched across the gravel toward the other golf cart. “You want to drive, or should I?”

“I’ll drive. I know where I’m going,” Cole said, and slid behind the wheel. I took a seat next to him and settled in, listening to the gentle whirr of the electric motor as he pressed his foot down on one of the two simple pedals. We took off behind the two older men, and I was immediately distracted by the beauty of our surroundings.

Warm wind blew over my skin and ruffled my hair. Palm trees waved in that same wind like arms beckoning us forward. Green spread out all around us, with the well-manicured hills and valleys of an expansive golf course opening up before us. In the distance, the glittering sapphire of the ocean lined the horizon. The air smelled fresh and salty, and I found myself relaxing.

“Do you play often?” Cole asked as we took a turn on the paved path to follow the two other men. As the resort disappeared behind us, I caught a glimpse of what I assumed was the clubhouse approaching ahead.

I shook my head. “No, but my old boss was a golf fanatic. I ended up having to chase him all over his favorite course and sit around at the driving range while he hit balls to get his input on anything. Picked up the lingo, I guess,” I added.

“We’re playing best ball, so it’ll be the two of them against the two of us. Whoever shoots the better shot out of you and me, that’s the ball we’ll play for the next shot. And so on.”

I nodded. “Got it.”

“They’ll probably let you play off the ladies’ tees, too, which will help.”

I turned to glance at him. My eyes narrowed. “Help what, exactly?”

“Just—if you’re nervous.”

“I’m sensing that you think I’m terrible at golf, Christianson.”

He shrugged, spreading his palms open above the steering wheel. “No. I’m just saying.”

“You’re just saying,” I repeated, a little competitive flame sparking to life inside of me. “You’re saying you think you’re better than me?”

“Look, I’m no Tiger Woods either, all right? I had to learn how to play when I met my dad. I’m just trying to make you feel more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable,” I said. “I’m great. And I’d bet anything I’m better at golf than you are.”

He scoffed. Actuallyscoffed.

“You don’t believe me?” I asked, voice calm.

“Carrie.”

“Cole,” I bit off.

The corner of his lip twitched. “You’re telling me that you’re secretly an amazing golfer?”

“I’m saying it’s a little rude that you’d assume I’m not.”

“I think you should put your money where your mouth is.”

“Fine!” I exclaimed, that competitive streak making itself known. “What do you want to bet we play more of my balls than we do yours? And I can tee off from the white tees if you’re worried about an unfair advantage.”

The white tees would be the furthest from the hole. It was almost certain that I wouldn’t be able to hit the ball as far as men several inches taller and many pounds heavier than me, but I was in too deep to turn back.

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