Page 122 of Unexpected Shot
“Oh…yeah…” I stammer out. “I’ve been focusing more on my hips and my legs.”
“I’ve noticed. Is it helping?”
”I think so. Too soon to say just yet.”
“Any reason you made the change?”
I’ve purposefully not told Beau what I’ve been up to since Vegas when it came to my game. I should’ve known it was only a matter of time before I’d have to come clean.
“I emailed my surgeon after Vegas.”
“What did he say?”
“I explained that new grips and new techniques weren’t working, and that I felt fine in my old swing, but asked again if it would eventually put me back under the knife.” I pause for a breath, readying myself for the reaction Beau’s going to have when I confess the next part. “Then, he very gently told me that, while he did indeed say I needed to adjust my swing to give me the longevity in my career that I wanted, he also reminded me what he said after that part.”
This makes Beau sit back up in bed. “Shelby Lynn…what did he say?”
The blush hits my cheeks before I can say a word. “That I need to focus on using more of my entire body in my swing. My previous swing was ninety percent shoulders and arms, and I just needed to use more of my lower core and legs. That if I took the pressure off, I’ll be able to continue playing as long as I want.”
I watch as Beau tries—unsuccessfully—to keep the shit-eating grin off his face. “So you’re telling me, that you, Shelby I’ve-Never-Overreacted-a-Day-in-my-Life LeBlanc, stopped listening after she heard what she didn’t want to hear, and then went balls to the wall about it?”
I refuse to make eye contact at this moment, because I know it’s going to make me smile. “Maybe…”
“Shelby…”
I finally look at him. “What? What do you want me to say? Yes. I might’ve heard the worst and then immediately went to the farthest end of the spectrum to fix it. There. Are you happy?”
“Very,” Beau says, his grin now full-on smitten as he falls back into the pillows. “Only better words I could hear are ‘You’re right, Beau’ or ‘Fuck me, Big Boy.’”
“Don’t push it.”
“Never,” he says.
We fall into an easy conversation about our days, what worked and what didn’t. What felt off. What we know got in our heads and what we need to make sure we block out tomorrow. I don’t know what I expected from this call with Beau, but I do feel better. Lighter. Like I’m going to go out on the course tomorrow and not have this huge weight on me.
“Aren’t we a pair,” I joke. “Pretty soon, The Golf Network is going to start comparing and contrasting who had the better weekend, and then realize that we either both play well or both suck.”
“The married couple that golfs together, sucks together. Now that’s a slogan we need to pitch to Ethan.”
I know he meant suck in terms of bad, but because I have the mind of a ten-year-old boy, I think suck and…well…
No…no no no, Shelby. Mind out of the gutter right fucking now.
“Whatcha thinking over there, Belle?”
“Nothing,” I say way too quickly. So quickly that Beau doesn’t buy it for a second.
“False. You didn’t have shit in your eye before, and there’s definitely something now.”
I really do hate him. “Promise. It’s nothing. So what time do you tee off tomorrow?”
“Nope. Not changing the subject.” Beau sits up and slips off his glasses, making it even more devastating when he stares at me through the screen. “Tell me what’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.”
How dare he say things like that when I’m thinking things I shouldn’t be thinking.
“It’s just…I don’t know why this even came into my head…but…the last time we both stunk at golf on the same day…we….”
“We had sex and then played out of our minds.”
