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She shook her head. The cherries bobbed. “I need to talk about it now.”
“No, Emma. It doesn’t have to be now.” His own eyes
stared back at him from the reflection in the lenses of her sunglasses, and they looked wild.
She lifted her chin an inch. “Yes. It does.”
Blood churned like acid through his veins. “Don’t do this to me. Why? Why does it have to be now?”
“I don’t know. I only know that it does.” Her chin trembled, she slipped off her sunglasses, and he saw that her eyes were dark with pain. His unruly stomach cramped as he watched her try to pull herself together. “Never mind. I’m being foolish. Besides, I already know the answer.” She slid her sunglasses into her pocket. “What a goose I’ve been about all this. I’m in way over my head with you. Of course, you’ve known that all along. Well, it has to stop.” She managed a brisk little smile. “I’ll do my best to hit your putt, Kenny. And then I’m getting out of your life.”
His stomach . . . it wasn’t ever going to be the same. “You’re talking stupid. I don’t want to hear this.”
“Nevertheless, it has to be said. And you of all people should understand. Don’t you remember, Kenny?” Once again that heartbreak of a smile, full of strong intent, but wobbly at the corners. The saddest thing he’d ever seen. “Love that has to be earned on the golf course, or anyplace else, for that matter, isn’t worth it. Love has to be a free gift or it doesn’t have any value at all.”
Just like that, she pulled the world out from under his feet.
She stepped around him to line up, and as she gripped the putter, he remembered his father, and Petie, and the Diaper Derby, and the way Emma’d looked when she’d jumped on that Gray Line tour bus. He shivered. All morning he’d been sweating, but now he was chilled right down to his bones. And somehow he knew that, if he let her hit this putt, he would have lost her forever.
The knowledge came to him from someplace deep inside, a small, constricted place where he’d kept so many feelings locked away. Now that place spilled open and he saw that he loved this woman with every breath in his body.
She’d already drawn back the putter, her line was perfect, and his heart shot right up into his throat.
“Emma!”
The putter wobbled. Stalled. She looked up.
He smiled at her. Or at least he tried. His vision blurred as his life settled into place around him. “The game’s over, sweetheart,” he said huskily. “We’re going home now.”
“What?” Dallie shot forward, his eyes glittering. “You can’t do that! You heard what I told you. If you walk away, you know exactly what you’ll be giving up.”
Kenny nodded. “I know. But this is upsetting Emma, and I’m not going to have it.” He snatched the putter from her hand and shoved it at Dallie. “I forfeit the match. It’s all yours, and you can damn well do whatever you want with it.”
Then he wrapped his arm around Emma’s shoulders and began to lead her off the green.
“But your putt . . .” she said. “I told you I’d make your putt.”
“Shhh . . . it’s all right. You don’t have to earn my love on any damn golf course, Lady E. It’s yours for the asking.”
She stopped walking and stared up at him.
He’d just thrown his career out the window, but as he gazed down into that heart-stopper of a face, he knew this woman was worth a thousand careers. And with that knowledge, he finally understood everything that had eluded him for so long. He understood that, each time he’d played eighteen holes, he’d been trying to justify his life, and that he wasn’t going to do it anymore. He saw that he was more than a man who knew how to swing a club, that he had a brain, ambition, and some dreams for the future he hadn’t even known existed. As he stood there next to the eighteenth green, he finally understood what had been eluding him—that there were a lot of things more important in his life than golf, and the way he loved this woman was at the top of his list.
He ducked beneath the brim of her hat and brushed her lips with a kiss.
Dallie’s soft chuckle drifted his way across the green. “Congratulations, champ. I knew you’d get the idea sooner or later. And welcome back to the pro tour.”
Kenny barely heard. He was too worried about the fact that Emma wasn’t kissing him back.
Chapter 24
As Kenny saw the stricken expression on her face, he realized he was going to have to do some fast taking, but he couldn’t do it here, not with the Beaudine family right on his heels. They were too unpredictable, and he had no idea who they’d side with. Besides, the self-satisfied expression on Francesca’s face was distracting him. It made him wonder if she was quite as bad with that putter as she’d seemed to be.
“We’re getting out of here.” He began half pulling, half dragging Emma toward the clubhouse, gripped by a sense of urgency he didn’t even try to understand. Normally, he would have gone to the locker room to shower and change. But not today. Today she was going to have to take him sweat and all because he wasn’t letting her out of his sight, not until she understood that he loved her, and that they were married for now and forever. Not until she figured out they had a life together that included filling up their ranch house with a whole passel of kids.
The thought of Emma pregnant with his babies was so sweet his damn eyes started filling up with tears. He had to get her out of here right now before he embarrassed himself in front of everybody. Except . . . he’d left his car keys in his locker.
“Listen here, Emma. You stand right there—right by those golf carts, while I get my keys. Don’t you move! You understand me?”
