Page 29 of Fangirl Down

Without giving Wells a chance to protest, she wove her way through a sea of recognizable faces, feeling a little bit like she was dreaming. A week ago, she’d been standing in knee-deep sludge, stuffing ruined inventory into black garbage bags, praying an alligator wasn’t lurking in the water—because Florida—and now? Wearing her best dress at a lavish party full of golf studs. Life never stopped throwing curveballs.

Josephine almost gasped out loud when she stepped onto the terrace.

The branches of a giant magnolia tree stretched overhead, flickering, jewel-tone lanterns dangling low. The conversation was more hushed outside, perhaps because it overlooked the manicured golf course and the setting predisposed people to silence. The air was balmy, breezy, and fragrant, whispering over her bare shoulders like silk. Someone approached her with a champagne flute, and she took it to be polite. Or maybe because she needed a prop with which to float through the elegant crowd, many of whom were watching her pass with curiosity. Fastening a serene expression onto her face, she continued until she reached the rail of the terrace, the green spreading out in front of her, buttered in moonlight.

Within seconds, a man approached from her left. He was roughly the same age as Josephine and sporting a necktie patterned with lizards, and he had a genuine smile, deep brown skin, and mirthful eyes. “Well, if it isn’t the hot gossip item herself,” said the young man, leaning his elbows on the railing beside her. “I’m Ricky. Nice to meet you.”

“Hey. I’m Josephine.”

“Oh, I know.” He winked at her, then went back to looking out over the golf course with obvious adoration. “Don’t worry,something scandalous will happen tomorrow and they’ll move on. A pro will smash their putter into three pieces or mix plaids. You’ll be off the hook.”

She glanced back over her shoulder, catching a woman in the act of gesturing at her with one of the hors d’oeuvres. Were people interested in her because she’d joined forces with the villain? Or was it because she was the only female caddie on tour? Maybe both. “When will I ever get another chance to be whispered about at a party that’s serving caviar on tiny pieces of toast? This is once-in-a-lifetime stuff.”

“Now that’s the right attitude.” Ricky gave her a conspiratorial look. “You know, our golfers are paired up for the next two days. We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other.”

“Are you bringing the communal ibuprofen, or am I?”

Ricky ducked his head on a laugh and reached over to shake her hand. “Tomorrow isn’t looking so rough after all, Josephine.”

She couldn’t agree more. Knowing there would be a friendly face in the vicinity dulled some of her spikiest nerves. “Which player are you caddying for?”

Pride squared his shoulders. “Manny Tagaloa.”

Josephine sucked in a small breath. “Oh wow, the new guy.”

“Yup. He’s already upstairs asleep for the night. The man’s got a powerhouse drive, but he’s boring as hell. Makes my job a lot of fun.” They shared a snort. “I’m only doing this caddying thing on the side until I can get my reptile business up and running.”

“And that is the dead last thing I expected to come out of your mouth.”

“Excuse me for interrupting,” a man said from behind Josephine, his voice smothered in the South. “I just had to meet the woman of the hour.”

“Oh boy,” Ricky muttered for her ears alone. “Here we go.”

A ripple carried all the way down to Josephine’s ankles whenshe turned around and looked directly into the face of none other than the tour darling, Buster Calhoun, his sandy-blond hair lying artfully on his forehead. This guy never failed to be humble on camera, giving the media theAw shucks, I’m just grateful to beheremoment they craved. For the briefest of windows, Josephine couldn’t help but be starstruck.

“You must be Josephine Doyle,” he drawled, lifting her free hand and kissing the air just above her knuckles. “An honor and a pleasure.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Calhoun.”

“Oh.” He feigned surprise. “My reputation precedes me, I see, but I’m far more interested in yours, as is everyone else.” He encompassed the terrace with a sweep of his martini. “Wheredidyou come from Miss Doyle?”

She smiled brightly and said, “Florida.”

A brief pause was followed by a charming chuckle. Three other golfers joined him.

When didtheyget there?

Calhoun took a slow sip of his martini. “And what are your thoughts on the course tomorrow?”

Josephine thought back to the research she’d done over the last week. The kidney bean–shaped sand trap on eleven, the water surrounding seventeen. “I think the two forced carries on the back nine are going to make a bunch of grown men cry.”

For an extended moment, Calhoun appeared dumbfounded. Then he and his companions erupted with amusement. “Well, I’ll be, Miss Doyle.” Something new, like interest, took shape in the Southerner’s eyes. “I might just have to steal you from Whitaker.”

“I highly suggest you don’t try that,” Wells said, shouldering his way through the group of men and pinning Josephine with a hard look. “If you’re done being cornered by these preening windbags, I think we’ve stayed long enough.”

“Aw, don’t take her from us so soon,” Calhoun complained, clapping a hand down on Wells’s shoulder. He removed it just as quickly when Wells gave him the famous death glare. “She’s the most interesting thing at this party,” he said, voice weakened slightly.

“She’s not the entertainment.”

---