Page 21 of Sweet Spot
“Hmm.” I raise my head slowly from my phone and find Gram scowling at me.
“I said your name three times before you answered. Put that phone away and come eat. Whatever it is, it can wait.”
I place my phone in my pocket. “Sorry, Gram.”
Dinner passes relatively quickly, and it isn’t even that awkward because it’s clear neither Autumn nor I are interested in the other. After thanking Gram, I walk Autumn out to her car.
“How is Kenton? Do you talk to him much?”
Hands in my pockets, I follow her slow pace. “He’s good. Still in L.A. playing soccer.”
“He always said he was getting out of Arizona. I guess I should have believed him.” She looks a little sad, and I don’t know what to say. Kenton is . . . Kenton. Carefree and fun, incredibly hard working and successful but somehow still manages not to take himself too seriously. “Tell him I said hello.”
I nod and open her car door. “It was good to see you. Congrats on graduating and good luck teaching.”
“Thanks, Lincoln.” She slips into the car and grabs a pen and scrap piece of paper from the console. She scribbles on it and then hands it to me. “Call me if you want to get together again.”
A flicker of attraction in her eyes that wasn’t present until just now surprises me and has me standing mute as she closes the door and starts the car. Well, that was unexpected.
When I get home, I grab a beer from the fridge and head into my office. I drop Pop’s shoebox of contacts on my desk and open my laptop.
I check email first, curious as hell to reread the conversation with Keira, then shoot her a quick response.
Did you sign up?
Lincoln
I switch over to the site and log in so I can check my messages and swing submissions for the day. The notification for Keira’s reply pops up in the bottom of the screen, and I click on it.
Yes. I submitted a video and someone named Simon is reviewing it.
Keira
I search through Simon’s inbox, something I alone have the site privileges to do. When new members sign up, their inquiries are routed to one of three of my golf coaches. Simon has the least experience, but he’s sharp.
I can see he’s watched the video but hasn’t responded yet. That isn’t altogether surprising since it only came in an hour ago. We promise a response in twenty-four hours, so I expect he’ll get back to her tomorrow.
I watch her swing, noting that she’s worked on her weight shift. It isn’t quite there, but the initial turn is better. My fingers itch to do her review myself, but there just aren’t enough hours in the day. I really shouldn’t be holding on to the few clients I have now, but coaching helps me remember why I’m doing this in the first place.
My phone rings, and I go to silence it but pause at the name on the screen.Lacey. It keeps ringing while I decide whether or not to answer. It isn’t like her to call or text unless it’s absolutely necessary. We aren’t on bad terms exactly; we just have nothing to say to one another.
“Hello?” I try to keep my tone totally neutral as I answer. Maybe it’s a butt dial.
“Hey, Lincoln. It’s Lacey,” she says, voice tight.
I find it humorous she thinks I’ve deleted her contact. Even if I had, hers is one of only a few numbers I could recite by heart.
“Hey. Uh, everything okay?” I wince and try another approach. “How are you?”
She laughs, breaking some of the tension. “I’m fine. Sorry to call, but I wanted to remind you that we have to get everything out of the storage unit. We pre-paid through April, after that there are additional fees.”
“Right. The storage unit.” I think back, trying to remember what’s in it. It felt like my whole life at the time, yet I’ve managed just fine without any of it.
“I’m going tomorrow if you want to meet me there. There are a few boxes we should probably go through together anyway.”
“Tomorrow’s no good for me.” I rub at the back of my neck. “But feel free to go through them and take whatever you want. You know better than I do what’s what anyway.”
She’s quiet, and I check the phone to make sure we didn’t get disconnected.
