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I set up and swung with a near-perfect follow-through, the ball sailing high into the sky.
“Attaboy,” Frank cheered, and we all piled into the carts to move on, not even stopping for Gemma’s ball.
When we closed in on the green, Frank tossed another ball down for Gemma after we easily sank our putts, but she kept missing by a few inches. Five tries later, it finally sank, and Frank patted her on the back. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it.”
The thought had crossed my mind to offer my help, but I imagined the scowl she’d give me and thought better of it. Instead, I enjoyed watching her swing and miss in her short cream-colored skirt.
The next few holes followed the same pattern, Gemma taking a few mulligans and chunking up dirt. After the seventh fairway, she plunked down in the cart with a huff. “Besides doing a one-handed cartwheel on a Slip ’N Slide when I was twelve, this might possibly be the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
“You may want to rethink your criteria for the worst decision ever. Save that honor for something really big like going on a hunger strike to save squirrels,” I quipped, stepping on the gas, and Gemma jammed her Converse up on the dash of the cart to keep from falling forward.
“Can you not do that? And I’ve already been on a hunger strike. It wasn’t that bad.”
“You’re kidding,” I said, eyes wide.
“Of course I’m kidding. People go on hunger strikes when no other forms of protest are available. Come on, read a book every once in a while.”
With a shake of my head, I maneuvered us behind Frank and Caroline’s cart, idly wondering why her insults kind of turned me on. Was it the way her voice took on that edge of venom? Or was it the way her eyes sharpened, all predator-like? I didn’t mind being her prey.
Next to me, Gemma hung her head back, allowing me a second to admire her throat as she said, “I can’t believe people call this the greatest game ever played. This is the worst game ever played.” She lolled her head to the side. “How much longer do we have?”
“It depends.”
She rubbed her eyes. “On what.”
“There are eleven more holes, and the more strokes that are taken, the longer it goes.” I deliberately raised my brows at her. “Since you’re the worst golfer I’ve ever played with, I figure another four hours.”
“You are quite the charmer.”
“I try.”
The carts stopped at the next hole, and we all shuffled out except Gemma, who lounged along the bench, her feet on my seat. “I’m going to sit this one out.”
“Are you sure?” Frank asked, readjusting his hat.
“Yeah, I need a little break.”
I supposed she meant she needed to speed up the game a bit. Not that I disagreed with her, but I still checked in every once in a while. At the ninth hole, she braided her hair, asking me to grab the hair tie she dropped. At the tenth, she twisted her hair into Princess Leia buns and pretended to cut me in half with her lightsaber golf club. And on the eleventh, she sprawled out horizontally for a catnap.
After sinking my putt, I walked back to the cart and watched her for a moment. Her hair was spread out all over, while my aviators shielded her eyes from the sun. The collar of her shirt gaped open enough to allow a centimeter of blue to be seen, and that was all it took for my mind to race. That blue would star in my fantasies tonight, or rather, in a warm shower.
As if she could hear my thoughts—maybe she could, they were screaming in my head—she stirred awake.
“Is it over yet?”
“Nope.” I swatted at her leg so she’d move over, allowing me to sit down. “Seven more holes to go.”
“Ack.”
At the next hole, Frank prodded Gemma to try again, and she halfheartedly agreed, yanking a club out of her bag without looking. She wound up and swung.Whiff.
“Go help her, Jay,” Frank ordered, and I was nothing if not a dutiful son.
As she lined up to try again, I gripped the club in mid-swing. “First of all, you’re using the wrong one. Here.” I handed her a different club. “That was a wedge. This is a 3-iron.”
Her face was blank. “Uh-huh.”
“May I?” I asked, alluding to my forthcoming instruction, and she silently nodded. I guided her to the tee, where I engulfed her with my arms, showing her how to properly hold the club.
