Page 39 of Playmaker

We were slow, so I also learned about letting others play through. I preferred not to have someone watching me as I missed hitting the ball or hit it a paltry distance, or hit it far but in the wrong direction.

We’d let four groups play through before we finished up, and I was so done by that point. My hands were sore from swinging the club. I had aching muscles almost everywhere, because it seemed running didn’t give you any advantages for golfing. I was sweaty, and pretty sure my nose was turning red in spite of repeated application of sunscreen. Loose strands of hair were catching in my mouth and clinging to my neck.

I held up a hand to Cooper. “I don’t even want to know the score.”

He laughed and grabbed the golf bags. I let him, too tired to fight him. Now I had to try to pretty up and prepare for the dining room again. I blew a breath up my face to move the hair falling over my eyes.

We dropped off the cart. I didn’t want to consider how my muscles would ache if we hadn’t had that. I felt Cooper’s eyes on me as we walked toward the clubhouse.

“I have a suggestion.”

He was going to suggest more practice. I needed it, I knew, and I was the one who’d limited our sessions here to Sundays. But damn it, I was so tired…

“What if we skip the dining room today?”

I glanced down. I must have looked as bad as I felt. But yeah, this was probably not the time for dining room lessons.

“And practice instead?” My voice might have been whiny, but I felt like a kid in that I knew it was a good thing to do but I really, really didn’t want to.

Cooper shook his head. “You’ve already pushed your limit. Practicing now will just risk injury.”

I could have kissed him for that— Wait, where had that come from? “Thanks. That was a lot.”

“We could grab a bite somewhere else, where it doesn’t matter if you use your phone or cross your legs.”

“Sure.” I remembered those rules, and posture was a big issue as well. No tipping.

I nodded before I realized I’d just agreed to eat with Cooper. In a non-country club setting. Was this outside our agreement?

We waited by the valet stand for the car. “You don’t have to take me somewhere to eat.”

He raised a brow. “I thought you could pick up the tab.”

Oh.Oh, that? Definitely. “Of course I will.”

The valet came up with the Bentley, driving it with caution, and I caught a glint in Cooper’s eye that told me he’d planned that exchange. He knew telling me I could offset the financial imbalance would have me agreeing immediately.

I just didn’t know why he’d wanted that.

We went to a pho restaurant in the north end of the city. It had a mostly Asian clientele and staff, and no one paid us any attention.

Once we’d ordered beer and pho, Cooper leaned back in the booth across from me. “So what do you think of golfing now?”

I flexed my hands. “It’s more physically demanding than I’d expected.”

“Are you sore?”

I moved my shoulders. They ached, as did my arms and my thighs, but not too badly. “A little, but nothing serious.”

“Take some anti-inflammatories and use heat and ice.”

My spine stiffened. I knew how to take care of myself. But that was stupid—he was a professional athlete, and if anyone knew how to take care of injuries, he did.

So I swallowed that reaction. “And stretching?”

“You got it.”

“Can you tell me what I need to do to improve? I mean, more than ‘everything.’”

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