Page 20 of Unexpected Shot
“Quit being stubborn and just try it,” Beau says, gently pushing my right shoulder down. “Just once.”
Beau’s always been taller than me, but this summer it feels like he's a giant. Especially as he's standing behind me.
“There you go, just a little bit,” he says, perfectly adjusting my stance. “Please, Belle, just try it once.”
I hate it when he calls me Belle. That’s what the butterflies in my stomach mean. That I don’t like it.
“Fine,” I say with a groan. “But when it doesn’t work, I’m saying I told you so.”
“I’d hope so,” Beau says, stepping back. “Grip it and rip it.”
I blink slowly before taking one big breath. I make sure my grip is how I want it. My stance is perfect. My shoulders are where Beau put them.
Back swing…engage…swing down…contact.
I squint as I watch my ball fly off the tee. But then they only get bigger and bigger as I watch the ball sail farther than it ever has before.
“Holy crap!” Beau shouts. I want to cheer but I’m speechless.
Because my tee shot just went a hundred sixty yards.
"Oh my god!" I yell, finally able to get words out. I can’t stop smiling as I look at where my ball landed, then back to Beau. “I did it!”
“Yeah you did.”
I’m jumping up and down with excitement and pride, and before I know it, I’m jumping into Beau’s arms, hugging him with all mymight. Which is…weird. I’ve never hugged Beau. Maybe it’s because I’m overwhelmed with happiness, and because he helped me, he gets a hug. Yeah. That’s it.
I’m glad he was here though. I know we aren’t friends, but we do golf together every day because I don’t have any girls to golf with. He might be a boy, and is gross, but he’s not the worst of them. Chad is the worst. But Beau? He’s okay. Mostly. Even if he calls me a nickname I hate.
"Thank you," I say, quickly stepping back. The smile he gives me sends a warm fuzzy feeling into my heart.
"You're welcome," he says. “So are you going to listen to me now when I have a suggestion?”
I roll my eyes, because of course now he would think he's the world's best golf teacher. “Sometimes. Maybe. Probably not.”
He gives me a big smile. “I’ll take it.”
“Ten minutes ago I was creating an alibi for you because I thought you were going to commit murder. Now you’re smiling like you’re remembering your first Christmas. Wait. Are you smiling because youdidcommit murder?”
I give my head a hurried shake, pushing aside the memory I have no business remembering fondly. “Just thinking…”
Gabi gives me a questioning look as she takes a seat next to me on the couch, putting her baby monitor on the coffee table in front of us. “I would ask what you were thinking about, but I have a feeling I’m related to him.”
I let out a sigh, trying to figure out where to start. “Have you talked to him today?”
“Earlier, yes. Actually, I meant to call him tonight. He got a random text from his agent while he was at the bakery. I wanted to follow up and ask him what it was about.”
“No need. Because I know everything that happened.”
Gabi listens intently as I tell her about Ethan calling both ofus in. Her eyes get bigger and bigger as I explain the tournament we’re being forced to play in—together—and how Ethan didn’t give us an option of saying no.
“Holy shit,” Gabi says, scrambling to find her cell phone.
“Who are you texting?”
“Maddox,” she says. “He’s going to crack up.”
“Do not do that,” I say, swatting the phone out of her hand. “I came to you for help and advice on how I’m going to survive this, not to start a gossip train about it before it even happens.”
