Page 25 of Second Swing
“No more flirting. Pinky promise.” He holds out his pinky, and I consider taking it. Before I can, he continues, “Come over here and let me show you this stroke.” His lips tilt up at the corners, and I roll my eyes playfully, knowing this term.
“Fine. But keep your hands to yourself, Mr. Morrison,” I say, teasing him as I walk closer.
He holds his free hand up between us and wiggles his fingers. “Thenhow else will I show you how skilled they are?”
Clinton teaches me how to hold the club properly, from my stance to how my hands hold the grip. Each time when he says a term or rule we haven’t gone over, he tells me what it means, which helps me feel a lot less foolish. Not needing to pull the information from him encourages me to try, as well as ask questions I may not have asked someone else.
“Here, let me show you.” His voice is low and close enough I can feel his words whisper over my shoulder. As I attempt to step away, thinking he wants to take over, he asks, “May I adjust your stance a bit? I’ll need to touch you, and I want to be sure you’re comfortable with that first.”
I nod my head and wait, but he only walks closer. He doesn't touch me.
“Can I have your consent?” he asks again, and this time I answer him.
“Yes. You can touch me.”
He comes up behind me and moves his fingers over mine, adjusting them slightly so my grip is higher and more firm. He stands close, resting one hand on my shoulder and the other on my hand holding the club. Tugging on my shoulder gently, he forces me to stand a little taller.
“Now, grab the club with both hands.” I do, but I don’t think it’s correct as he walks up, kicks my foot out just a smidge and wraps his arms around my frame. I take in a gasp, snapping my head in his direction, and instead watch his Adam’s apple bob andfuck me, why is that hot? “Like this.”
His voice whispers over the shell of my ear, and no matter how hot it is outside, I shiver nonetheless.
13
Lou:Ah, the sweet sound of someone trying to justify bad decisions.
Chuck:Hey, that’s why golf has mulligans. Second chances, right?
Lou:Yeah, but in life you gotta earn ‘em. Let’s see if she does.
My nerves fray as I look down at my watch, fifteen minutes past the time we agreed to meet. I set down the guava and cheese quesitos I picked up from Sweet Bean. I try to remind myself Paloma doesn’t owe me anything, but her being late reminds me of our past, the parts that hurt and rake against my normally calm demeanor.
I lick my fingers, enjoying the sweet powdered sugar coating them from the sugary pastries. I use a couple napkins to clean up before I pull open my laptop. Paperwork of the original plans for the events are strewn about from my sad attempt to stay busy while I’ve been waiting for Paloma, who I hope is still going to show up. My phone lights up on the table and I quickly grab it, clicking on a text from the woman missing inaction.
Paloma
I swear I’m almost there, I went on a run and well it went a little longer.
Be there in a couple minutes.
Clinton
Take your time.
If I’m being honest with myself, this meeting of ours could have been an email, but having lunch with Paloma at Shaken Tropes wasn’t enough for me. I want to spend as much of these meetings with her as I can, even if it is under the pretense of charity.My charity at that.I want this to be successful, to thrive for the future kids of Albatross Youth Academy, but even after all this time, I want her. More than anything.
I rattle off an email to a few sponsors I’ve gotten to know. They’ll be interested in the charity tournament from the work we’ve done together in the past. Paloma’s cherry scent wafts in my direction, engulfing me, and I stretch my fingers out to stop myself from touching her as she plops down on the seat beside me.
The last time I was this close to her, we were in her bar and I was pretending the past didn’t matter. Which is a fucking lie because it’s all I’ve been able to think about. All I dream about for that matter. No longer able to hold myself back, I lean into my little heartbreaker’s space. My whisper is lighthearted but teasing, “So, Heartbreaker, are you ready to be on the course again?”
“You gonna start this early into our meeting?” she sighs and takes me in, giving me my own chance to give her a once-over. She has her tan legs crossed under the table. When she was frazzled I used to give her thigh a soft reassuring squeeze to make sure she knew I was there.Thinking of my hands on her thighs makes me moan internally, wanting to feel her lush, soft skin under my palms again. Maybe I’m a glutton for punishment, but I would rather have this tension between us than the silence we’ve had for the last several years.
I can’t hide my amusement. “If I don’t start earlier then I’ll never be able to get everything out I want to say. Besides, poking at you is an adventure.”
“An adventure?” she questions, uncrossing her legs as she sits up further in the chair. She not only doesn’t retreat, but comes closer, as if there’s this magnet between the two of us.
“I’m never sure what you’re going to say, but I know you’ll always give it right back to me.”
“You are something else, Clinton Morrison. You’re the only man I know who wants to argue with me.” She may have an indifferent tone, but her lips quirk up into a soft smile.
