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And I die right there on the spot.

Kind, hot, sweet, hot, sexy, hot, masculine; oh, and hot.

I poke a finger into his chest and tilt my chin up. “I’m about to completely trounce you in this game. So, back up. I require a minimum of five feet separation between us so I can focus.”

I turn my back to him and grip the golf club—firmly but not too firmly, as the master-apparent previously instructed. Then, because I think it’s funny, I wiggle my butt at him.

Just as I pull back on the club and I’m about to tap the golf ball, Dax pinches my butt. I let out a yelp just as the club connects to the ball.

The ball sails into the middle of the sand pit.

“Yikes. That was a terrible shot.” Dax says, his eyes wide. “You managed to hit it in the opposite direction of the one you wanted. Sounds like you should’ve listened to my instructions a little closer.”

“You’re such a cheater!” I accuse in a loud voice.

“Tsk, tsk. Don’t be a sore loser. Now, can you move over? I need to take my turn.”

He bumps me out of the way and then mimics my ass-shaking. He focuses on the ball, pulls back, and takes his shot. The ball shoots past the hole and rolls down a slope, putting him a good distance from the hole.

“Ha! I thought you were good. Couldn’t even get it in the hole on your first shot,” I gloat.

He looks thoughtful for a moment. “Strangely enough, that’s something a woman has never said to me before.”

He winks, and I laugh.

“I hope not. That would be tragic,” I say.

I walk over to the sand pit and look forlornly down at my ball. I have a bad feeling that any attempt to extricate it from the sand with my golf club will lead to it digging deeper. Not willing to admit defeat quite yet, I take my club and dig it into the sand and use a scooping motion to get the ball out. The ball makes it out of the pit, but I’m still far away from where I need to be.

“Foul!” Dax yells out. “I call foul. That’s not allowed.”

“Oh? Says who? And anyway, scooping the ball out is not okay, but pinching my butt is allowed?” I fire back. “I’d like to see a list of these rules. I’m beginning to think you don’t play fair.”

Dax swaggers lazily over to his ball. He looks up at me and cocks a brow, his face full of innocence. “Me? I have no idea what you’re talking about. I would never play dirty. I’m going to beat you fair and square.”

“I’m keeping a close eye on you. Don’t even think about cheating,” I tell him as I sidle up next to him.

I’m loosely holding my club against my leg and watching Dax carefully, waiting for my moment. There’s not a chance in hell I’m letting him get away with his shenanigans.

He lines up his shot, gets into his golfer stance, and, with a serious look on his face, swings for the ball. Unfortunately for him, my hip connects with his body at just the right moment, and his swing is knocked wildly off course. His ball bounces off the raised edge of the platform and ends up rolling behind several large stones.

It’s impossible to withhold the snicker that escapes.

Dax swings his body toward me, his mouth open and a look of disbelief on his face. “I’m so gonna pay you back for that. I can’t believe you just did that.”

My eyes widen and I blink innocently up at him. “I’m so sorry. Must’ve lost my balance. Guess I’m clumsy today.”

“Uh-huh. Sure. Looks like it’s your turn,” he says as he moves gallantly to the side. “Good luck.”

“I’m going to need you to maintain some distance while I take my turn,” I tell him primly. “You can go wait over by that bench.”

“Not a chance,” he says, crossing his arms. “I need to keep a close eye on you to make sure you’re following the rules.”

I’m not at all surprised when he follows me over to where my ball lays. I’m doing my best to line up my shot while keeping an eye on him. It’s difficult because he’s standing behind me, and I’m just waiting for him to do something to mess up my turn.

I don’t even jump when he puts his arms around me from behind and presses into me. His warm breath is on my neck. “Looks like your stance could still use some work. Let me help you with that.”

“I’m gonna need you to back up, sir. Mini golf is not a contact sport. There’s no touching allowed.”