Page 25 of Fangirl Down

Wells snorted, catching up to her in one stride and walkingbeside her down the lantern-lit hallway. “I just don’t want to deny you the fashionably late entrance you so desperately wanted.”

“How long exactly are we going to dwell on this? Until you find something else to tease me about?”

They paused outside of the entrance to the ballroom, waiting for the group in front of them to give their names to the clipboard-toting young woman. “That sounds about right. Got anything good?”

“I’m a treasure trove of material, Whitaker, but you’re going to have to work for it.”

Wells suddenly wished he’d blown off the pointless party and taken Josephine to dinner, instead. Maybe it wasn’t too late? Sharing a meal with one’s caddie was the furthest thing from unusual. In fact, it was normal. Expected. And Wells was dead positive that he would enjoy talking to her more than anyone on the other side of those doors. “Listen, the food in there is going to be fancy and bite-sized. Maybe we should—”

Josephine gasped and gripped his forearm, her attention focused on something inside the event. “Oh my God, it’s Jun Nakamura.”

He was forced to switch gears. “What about him?”

“Whatabouthim? Oh nothing, just a couple of major titles.” Stars sparkled in her eyes. “His precision is incredible.”

She was... fangirling? Foranothergolfer?

Envy dug into his throat like a rusty nail.

“What happened to Wells’s Belle?” he half-shouted.

“Maybe if he has an earlier tee time than us tomorrow, I’ll go see him in action. What do you think I should write on his sign?”

“Nothing, Josephine. You’re not making him a sign.”

Slowly, her mouth spread into a grin. “I thought you said you could take a little trash talk. The vein in your forehead leaves me skeptical.”

Wells stared down at her.

His heart dislodged itself from behind his jugular, moving back into place, but still pumping at an uncomfortable rate.

She’d been teasing him about cheering for another golfer.

And he’d swallowed it, hook, line, and sinker.

A lot of things occurred to Wells at once. The fact that he really liked Josephine, probably too much, was first among them. Second, he started to wonder if he might grow to trust her. Like, actuallytrusther. One of the reasons he never kept a caddie around for long was his inability to believe that (a.) someone might know more than him. Or (b.) want the best for him.

The one time he’d experienced those things was with Buck Lee. The one time he’d trusted anyone had been with his mentor, too. But Buck’s friendship had been conditional. Dependent on Wells’s continuing to win.

Wells swore he’d never place that kind of faith in anyone again.

And he wouldn’t.

But for the first time in a long time... he was tempted.

In more ways than one.

Chapter Ten

Walking into the welcome party for the Texas Open was Josephine’s version of going backstage at the Grammys. It was a veritable who’s who of golf. The athletes she’d been watching either on television or from the sidelines were suddenly inches away, yucking it up in business casual, surrounded by tasteful sconce lighting and vases of lush, white peonies. In the interest of being honest with herself, no one revved her fangirl engine like Wells Whitaker, her perpetually aggravated escort, but he didn’t need to know that.

Now that she was his caddie, any fanlike behavior would be unprofessional.

After five years of devotion, however, she couldn’t quash Whitaker fever completely, so she’d painted a tiny tribute on her toenails, just to keep the spirit alive. Which was safe, because there would never be a situation where he saw her barefoot.

Er...anotherone, anyway.

She’d make sure of it.

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