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12
ELSIE
Why does Beau have to look that good while being my boss? Under the trees, he takes his sunglasses off, and it is all I can do to keep my eyes on the property. He’s got his sleeves rolled up again, like he knows what that does to me. I am trying to concentrate here, and all he’s doing is pointing out different parts of the site. It’s almost as though he has no clue how hot he is, especially when he is excelling at his work. I love a man who knows what he’s doing.
So why do I want to tear into him?
While he shows me an area he thinks will be perfect for the pro shop, I’m tempted to knock at his idea. I want to poke holes in his plans just to take some of the power back in our dynamic and let him know he’s not the only one who knows what they’re doing. It’s petty, and I don’t care.
His hotness is getting to me. Beau MacMillan is like art in a museum. He is perfect and untouchable. It makes me twitchy.
I want to mess up his immaculate hair while he goes down on me.
I shake my head to hide the shiver that thought gives me, and a sly smirk comes over his face. “Something wrong?”
Oh my god, lie.“ You didn’t see that bee?”
“Uh, no.”
Why did I say that? That was stupid. Say something better.“So, anyway, the pro shop could go there, but that’ll shift the guest flow in a way that’ll discourage them from going to it.”
He frowns.How does someone frown handsomely?I don’t know, but Beau does. “If someone needs the pro shop, they’ll go there.”
“Sure, but if you make it easier to get to, then they may end up there by accident and find themselves a new hobby. If you hire good enough salespeople and golf pros.”
He laughs. “You think that’s how people pick up golf? Throughsales?”
I tip my head to the side. “Oh, I get it. Never mind. Anyway—"
“What?”
I give a little shrug. “You don’t think you’ll be able to hire a good golf pro, so you’re not invested in making the pro shop what it could be. I mean, I get it—itwillbe hard to attract a former pro golfer to this town, but I had more confidence in you than that. Thought you already had someone lined up. But I’m guessing by your comment that you don’t, which means in your mind, the pro shop will be an add-on and not a draw—and you’re fine with sacrificing it’s positioning. If that’s your philosophy on the matter, that’s fine. No big deal. Anyway—"
“You really do just speak your mind, don’t you?”
“Any reason not to? You’re not the kind of guy to have a fragile male ego, so I didn’t think I needed to pull any punches. Was I wrong?”
At first, I’m not sure what to think of his expression. It’s something between pissed off and shocked. But then, his full lips widen into a shit-eating grin. “No. You’re not wrong.”
“Good.”
“At least, not about me.”
“I’m wrong about something else?”
“People do not start playing golf because of salespeople and golf pros. They start playing golf because they are interested in the sport.”
I smirk. “And how do you think they get interested, Beau? By osmosis?”
“I did not start playing golf because someone sold it to me. I started playing because my father plays, and he used to take me and my siblings to the driving range for lessons.”
“That sounds an awful lot like sales to me.”
He huffs. “Not the kind of sales you’re talking about—"
“No. But the kind of sales I’m talking about will help men like your father get their kids into golf. If you want to have generations of golfers on your property, then they will need an easily accessible pro shop to facilitate perpetuating the hobby, instead of an out-of-the-way pro shop that’s an afterthought.”
