Page 96 of Plays Well With Others

When he ends the call, he turns to his kid, putting on aneverything is fineface.“Anya’s mother is sick, and she needs to take her to urgent care.”

“Oh no! Will she be okay?”

“I think so. She just needs some meds.” He checks his watch. His brow knits. “Want to come to play a round of nine with Daddy and some investors from Indonesia?”

His daughter shoots him ayou can’t be serious look. “That sounds boring. I’d rather play golf with Alice and Grace.”

Wilder sighs, shaking his head. “Alice isn’t working today. I’ll cancel my game, honey.”

No, he will not. I turn my gaze to Rachel. “The Babysitter Doctors?” I whisper.

She nods, one hundred percent on board. “We so are.”

I clear my throat, and Wilder looks my way. “Mr. Blaine. Mac can play mini golf with us.”

The man straightens his spine, meets my eyes, and then lets out a relieved breath. “Thank you. Her sitter can’t make it. And I need to meet these investors…It’s about this hotel.”

I wave a hand. “We have a very chill game planned.”

The tiny blonde stares at me with fierce eyes. “I’d like to see you try to beat me.”

Oh well. It is on.

32

SMACK TALK LESSONS MELT MY HEART

Rachel

Someone should go on the PGA tour, and it’s not Carter.

With an absurd amount of focus for anyone, let alone a fourth grader, Mac lines up at the fourteenth hole, staring intently at the windmill and then at the purple ball on the tee. With a steadying breath, she lifts the club, shifts her hips, and swings like a pro.

That purple ball is a soldier obeying a commanding officer’s order as it rushes down a slope, under the spokes of the windmill, then…

I race down the green to track it, whooping in excitement as the ball rolls past my orange one, gliding gracefully into the hole.

“Hole in one, rock star!” I offer Mac a high-five as she runs down the green with a gleeful smile.

“Yay!” she calls out, smacking back when she reaches me. Quickly, though, she erases the sunshine and pins me with a serious look. “But I can’t get too excited. Daddy says it’s not nice to showboat.”

I give an approving nod. “Daddy is right.”

“He usually is. But can I tell you something, Rachel? It’shardnot to showboat sometimes. It’s kind of fun.”

“That’s true too,” I say, then stage-whisper, “But you know what else is super fun?”

“What?”

“Taunting your opponent. Watch this,” I say, as Carter lines up at the other end. “Hey, Carter. You want to get the ball in this hole,noton the next hole.”

He overswung earlier and sent it soaring to the waterwheel when we were on the pipe-drop hole.

Twenty feet away, Carter rolls his eyes. “Thanks for the tip. Just wanted to make sure you know the goal is to scoreunderpar, notten timesover it.”

Oh, burn.

But I take my lumps like a big girl, especially because I don’t care if I win. I turn to Mac. “See? That’s not showboating. That’s just trash talk. Are you allowed to trash talk?”

---