Page 44 of Second Swing
Squeezing my hand, she realizes we’re parked somewhere that is most definitely not Mossy Oaks Golf Club. “What are we doing here?”
“I don't have any of those makeup wipes and figured you’d want to grab some. Actually, I’ll grab them for you. Do you like a particular brand?” She gives me a quick shake of her head, and I’m hopping out of the car, making my way inside to grab what she needs.
As soon as I laid eyes on the makeup wipes, I was in and out and back to the stunning woman who just poured her heart out to me. The moment I’m back in the car, the energy feels lighter. She needed to get everything off her chest, and I’m grateful for us to be on the same page. I pull open the tab to the top of the makeup wipes and snatch one freebefore turning to Paloma. “Come here, Dove.”
When she turns, I don’t wait for her to ask. I simply lean in, curl my knuckle under her chin, tilt her head back and gently run the cloth beneath her lashes. As I wipe away the smeared makeup, I watch as my Dove slowly sheds away another layer of her wall. She rests in my hand, and the movement is something I crave from her. When I finish wiping away the ruined makeup, the freckles I love so much shine through and make my heart beat a little faster. She truly is so fucking beautiful it stops all my thoughts, all my wants, unless it’s to be consumed by her. One of the things I missed most about Paloma was her freckles. The way they dance over her entire face is so fucking sexy, it makes my dick hard, and I make a lazy attempt to hide it.
“Come on, Dove, let’s get to my place and pick up the golf cart. I’m ready to cozy up on the green.” I laugh and smile at her soft giggle.
“Wait, your place? Why didn’t I drive to you?” she asks.
“And miss out on all this time with you? Nah, this way is better.” And I mean it. Had she drove to me, I would have missed out on this time with her. I wouldn’t trade it for a fucking thing. I make the last few turns and pull into the parking area for the condo. I’ve been so busy lately between the business and charity aspects of getting Albatross ready, I feel like when I’m home I’m still working and not resting. I haven’t had a chance to just be in the space. If I’m being honest, when I’m not working or focused on meetings, my last bit of attention is on Paloma.
“Mr. Morrison, what can I do for you and your lovely date tonight?” Greg, the attendant who seemingly keeps this place running like a fine-tuned ship asks, as Paloma and I walk through the entryway.
“Greg, it’s good to see you! I just came in to grab the cart.”
“Oh, are you two goin’ to enjoy movie night on the course?” I slantmy eyes at Greg. It seems Paloma’s mom isn't the only meddler.
“Have a good night, Mr. Greg.” I smirk in his direction.
“You do the same, sir.”
We grab the cart from the garage and are finally on our way to movie night, though I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything else but her.
23
Chuck:I swear, they’re getting deeper into trouble by the minute.
Lou:I half expect the local wildlife to start rooting for them.
Chuck:Messy, and damn, it’s entertaining.
Lou:You know it.
Somehow, even though I was the one who asked him out, Clinton seems to be sweeping me off my feet. I think of his text message about mewooing himand I shake my head. He may be the one doing the wooing.
There are twinkle lights wrapped around the bordering trees and lounge-type beanbags scattered about for comfortable seating. They really did a wonderful job. The huge blow-up screen is anchored to the ground, and the sunset is slowly fading. Jazz music plays through the connected speakers, and my eyes drift to all the beanbags.
“You basically live on the course, so I don’t know why I’m surprised you have your own cart,” I say. Shock is evident in my voice, but so is the playfulness I am definitely feeling. We may have dated quite a while ago but I’m still getting the chance to know him now on a deeper level. Or maybe I’m just more open to seeing the man in front of me. We park the cart near the many others which are lined up on the side, and I show the attendant our event admission.
“When I saw the listing for the condo, I knew it was the exact location I wanted. It’s only a rental though. I’ll need to find something more permanent,” Clint says, filling me in on another piece of his life.
“Oh, so you plan to move again?” It's a question I don’t know if I really want the answer to or not, but I wait for his response nonetheless.
“Just from the condo. I’m not leaving Cypress Lake. This is home again. I haven't decided if I want to stay in the condo or buy elsewhere. And since I’m able to rent it month to month, it makes the most sense for now.” The relief is palpable, knowing he isn’t going anywhere.
“Hi there,” the attendant chirps, catching our attention. “I’m just going to assume a beautiful couple like you is here for the movie on the lawn. Can I have the name for the reservation?”
Stepping up closer to the counter, I reply, “Yes, it’s under Paloma Reyes.”
“Oh yes, I see you right here. You reserved the Birdies and Blanket ticket, right?” Her finger points at the screen facing away from us, and when I nod my head, she continues, “Let me just grab you the basket, and then you two can be on your way.”
The brown picnic basket is filled to the brim with goodies and chilled drinks. As I’m about to turn, she passes me a fluffy blanket and a heat lamp, which causes my brows to rise. She sees my confusion and without being asked, answers the question floating around in my mind, “Being near the water and the chilly breeze, better to be warm than suffering with a chill. Also, the basket number matches the numbered seating.”
“Thank you.” She gives us a smile, and we take our leave. We find our spot quickly; it’s on the lower side of the hill toward the back of the other seating areas. Our location somehow gives us privacy but also keeps us near the mass of people. It’s nice, truly. Everyone has space betweenthem, which gives us all a sense of privacy. Our reserved spot has a huge blanket laid out with cushions stacked in a tower next to a little foldable table.
Clinton sets the basket down on the grass, off to the side of the cushions. I pull the blanket taut, wanting to smooth out the wrinkles so we have the most space possible. No matter how many times I attempt to straighten it out, wrinkles keep appearing.
