Page 4 of Fore Better or Worse (Return to Starlight Bay #16)

Chapter four

Leah

T he collective gasp from our table pulls my attention from the remnants of a surprisingly delicious salmon dinner.

Across the deck, a man has dropped to one knee beside a table, facing a woman whose hands are pressed to her mouth in the universal gesture of proposal shock.

The evening light catches the diamond he holds up, sending sparkles across the weathered deck.

“Oh my god,” Sarah whispers, tapping my arm over and over again. “Look at that. It’s so romantic.”

But rather than watch the scene unfold, I scan the crowd for a familiar hot pink polo.

Sure enough, he’s there, standing a respectful distance away, phone raised as he captures the moment.

Even from across the deck, Hays’s satisfied grin is hard to miss, thanks to perfect pearly whites.

Slightly behind, and watching the scene closely, is a tall, lean man in a dark green polo who must be the friend he mentioned. His wingman for the covert operation.

The woman says yes, and the entire top deck erupts in cheers and applause.

I clap along, finding, for the first time since I was dumped, that I can celebrate someone’s happily-ever-after without that familiar sting of envy.

I don’t have time to analyze that thought, though, because Hays catches my eye.

He winks before turning his attention back to his camera.

Something warm unfurls in my chest that has nothing to do with the two rum and Cokes I’ve polished off, but I ignore the sensation.

After all, everything about Hays screams not my type .

The easy confidence. The way he takes up space as if he owns it.

I spent two years with someone safe and predictable, a guy who’s the furthest thing you could get from a cocky flirt.

And look how that ended.

The last thing I need now is a man who’s the complete opposite and likely leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake.

A server appears at our table with a tray of drinks, mostly colorful cocktails, but also a glass of red wine and another rum and Coke.

“For the birthday girl and her friends,” the uniformed man announces, setting them down. The girls light up with excited squeals and a chorus of thank-yous, immediately reaching for the drinks. “Compliments of your birthday buddy,” he explains in answer to my questioning look.

“Birthday buddy?” Tabitha arches an eyebrow, following my gaze to where it’s darted toward Hays. “And who exactly is this generous birthday buddy?”

Heat creeps up my neck. “I may have had a brief encounter at the bar earlier.”

She slaps the table. “I knew something was up. You were gone for twenty minutes then returned with two drinks and a very unlike Leah smile plastered on your face. Plus, you’ve been so distracted you barely touched your dinner roll.

Care to explain why you’re staring at the tall, yummy specimen over there like he personally hung the moon rather than enjoy a buttered carb? ”

“Nothing happened,” I insist. “He caught me when I almost fell. We talked for a bit. End of story.”

“Uh-huh.”

She doesn’t believe me, but then again, Tabitha’s the one person in the world who knows me almost better than I know myself. She also has details memorized about me that my ex wouldn’t have remembered five seconds later, let alone five years.

“Fine. He’s…got main character energy. And he was charming in a cocky, obnoxious kind of way that should be completely unappealing.”

“But…”

I take a sip of my drink. “But it wasn’t. Even though he’s the farthest thing from my type as you can get.”

“You mean he’s the farthest thing from what you thought was your type.”

“No, I…” I trail off because, as usual, my best friend has a point.

I dated a doormat for three years. David was even more of an introverted homebody than me, so maybe, the fact Hays is basically my ex’s complete opposite is what’s so intriguing.

Plus, he seemed to like me. Or at least, liked talking pick-up lines with me.

“He’s obviously not from Starlight Bay,” she muses, her mind working.

“He’s from Scottsdale, Arizona,” I confirm because that will prove there’s nothing to come of meeting him.

She clicks her tongue. “Already getting location details. And you said nothing happened.”

“Tab,” I say, shaking my head, “he lives across the country. I’ll never see him again.”

Her face lights up. “Exactly!”

“And that’s a good thing because…”

“He might as well be fictional. You can follow up on your promise to live a little and go make a move. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I embarrass myself.”

“So what? He’s a stranger you’ll never see again.”

“We’re not strangers. We’re birth— Never mind.” But she has a point, damn it. I glance back at the happy couple and find Hays mingling in the crowd, his easy smile like a beacon in the fading light of day. “Maybe, you’re right. But let me Google him first. I think he’s a golfer or something.”

Tabitha arches an eyebrow. “You’re doing research now?”

Ignoring her, I grab my phone. “His name is Hays Granger. I saw it on his license.”

“You checked his ID? How very thorough of you.”

“He showed it to me to prove his birthday,” I mutter, already typing his name into the search bar.

“What?”

But I’m too busy scanning the search results to answer. “Oh.”

“What ‘oh’? Good ‘oh’ or bad ‘oh’?” she asks, leaning over.

My stomach sinks. “He’s… He’s actually famous. Well, sort of famous.” I clear my throat and read aloud. “‘Hays Granger isn’t just one of golf’s newest rising stars—he’s the swaggering, smirking heartthrob who’s making headlines on and off the green.’”

Reading over my shoulder, she continues. “‘After a standout career at The University of Texas, where he racked up a dozen collegiate wins and earned All-American honors, Granger had a rocky season on the Korn Ferry Tour’—what’s that?”

“Hell if I know. But look, it says he managed to rally and officially earned his PGA Tour card last year.’” I pause, processing. “He’s a professional golfer, Tab. Like, actually professional.”

“He has the tan to prove it. What else?”

“‘Known for his killer drive and the kind of effortless charm that makes post-round interviews go viral, he’s got the game to back up the hype.’” I look up at her. “His interviews go viral.”

“Ooh, search for videos later. Keep going.”

“‘But if Hays wants to go from internet sensation to championship contender, he’ll have to trade a few parties for practice rounds. With talent to spare and a twinkle in his eye, Hays is more than just one to watch. He’s the one everyone’s already watching…and waiting to see if he can deliver.’”

I stare at my phone then look across the deck at Hays, who’s now laughing at something his brother says. “He’s an actual celebrity, Tabitha. People write articles about him. He probably has a publicist.”

“So?”

“When I vowed to go on a few first dates after David, I meant with guys I’d actually consider dating—”

“But you haven’t actually gone on a single first date all summer,” Tabitha is quick to point out.

“—and who would consider dating me.”

But even as I utter the words, I wonder if there’s a chance I’m wrong.

Is there a world where Hays would date a small town girl like me?

Or, does he say things like, ‘gorgeous, dark-eyed beauties who call me on my shit are apparently my kryptonite,’ to every woman he rescues at a bar?

Something tells me the answer is no. But surely, that’s the rum talking.

“Okay, first of all, pump the brakes there, girl. No one said anything about dating the man. All I’m suggesting is, you go over and continue the conversation.”

“I work in a bookstore and write novels and sometimes attempt to garden in my spare time, Tab. The guy is a pro athlete who’ll be jetting off after breakfast, not doing Wordle in his pajamas. We’re from completely different worlds.”

“Which is exactly why this is perfect.”

I glance back at the article. “It also mentions parties. Plural. As in, he’s apparently known for them.”

“So? You could use a party or two in your life.”

I shoot her a look.

“What?” she says. “This is the first night in forever you’ve done something spontaneous. Something that wasn’t arranged three weeks in advance and color-coded in your planner. Maybe, it’s a sign.”

She has a point, unfortunately. “This feels like jumping out of an airplane without checking if my parachute works.”

“This is nothing like that.” She nudges my shoulder. “Besides, he’s likely leaving tomorrow, right? You said it yourself. He’ll go back to wherever his fancy golf career takes him. This boat will dock in an hour. What have you got to lose?”

I look at my phone again then across the deck at Hays. He’s still there, still gorgeous, and still not my type. But there’s something about the way he looked at me earlier, as if I were genuinely interesting rather than just another face in the crowd.

“I’ll just congratulate him and come right back.” I place my napkin next to my plate.

“Or,” Tabitha says, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in her eye, “you could get over one man by getting under another.”

“I’m not having a one-night stand with a famous stranger I met on a boat two hours ago!”

Tabitha laughs. “There’s a whole spectrum between talking and sleeping together, Leah. You don’t have to cannon-ball into the deep end. Maybe, just stick your toes in the water.”

Before I can lose my nerve or the liquid courage currently coursing through my veins, I stand. “I’ll be right back.”

“I hope you’re not.” Her knowing smile follows me as I make my way across the deck. Then, as if it’s an afterthought, she calls out, “Oh, and if you happen to find out the name of Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome hovering behind your birthday buddy, I wouldn’t be opposed to that nugget of information.”

“Tab,” I say, shaking my head with a smile.

“What? I’m just being thorough. You know, in case his friend needs someone to show him around Starlight Bay.” She waves me off with feigned innocence. “I’ll handle the girls. Tell them you’re getting fresh air or something. Take your time.”