Page 7

Chapter 7

The theory of hockey

Callie

The website didn’t do it justice. The place was…incredible. Like something out of a movie about billionaires and princesses and people I’d never hang out with in a million years.

There were those white fences, the kind they used for horse farms, around the greenest grass I’d ever seen. It would cost a fortune to keep grass that verdant, and probably leave a carbon footprint the size of Bigfoot, but there was no denying it was beautiful.

Sheltered in a shallow hollow, the clubhouse nestled like it had grown there. A long, low building, with colorful flowers and mature trees. There were big windows, all glistening in the early morning sunlight.

Cooper turned his luxury vehicle down the drive of paving stones. We passed parked vehicles, all expensive—I might have seen a Rolls Royce emblem. Holy shit.

We pulled up at a valet stand, because of course we did. A young man opened my door and I stood up, grateful I wasn’t getting out of one of those low-slung sports cars where I’d have to climb upward and risk flashing the poor kid.

“Nice to see you back, Mr. Cooper.”

“Nice to see you too, Brad. Just let me get the clubs from the trunk.”

“Are any of your teammates coming today, sir?”

“No, it’s just me and Callie. Callie Smith, this is Brad, my favorite valet here at Briarwood.”

The kid blushed. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Smith.”

If we were anywhere else, I’d tell him to call me Callie, but was that a faux pas here? He’d called Cooper Mr. Cooper . Was Cooper the man’s last name? I should know that.

I waited, awkward and out of place. This club set off my nerves more than any place I’d been in years. I didn’t normally worry about fitting in—I’d never fit in, so I mostly tried to stay in the background, not draw attention, and watch everyone else. Then I did whatever they did. Made sure I was so good at what people needed from me that they overlooked my…me-ness.

But this wasn’t the office, where I could make value for myself with hard work. This place was all about appearances and connections. The stuff I failed at. I absolutely did not know the rules at this place. Reading a dress code on the website didn’t even touch the things I needed to know to fit in around here.

Cooper hefted two bags of clubs out of the trunk. Should I help? Did women around here strive to be equal, or was this a polite gesture I should accept? There was so much I could mess up.

Brad slid into the car and pulled away. I stepped in front of Cooper, blocking his path. “I need you to be brutally honest with me.”

One eyebrow shot up. Nice trick.

“I don’t want to embarrass you. Or myself. And I will, so you have to tell me when I do the wrong thing.”

Now the eyebrows were both pulled down, frowning. “Callie, you’re not going to embarrass me.”

I huffed a breath. “Yes, I will. I’d have made us both look bad in what I was wearing before. I just…I don’t know what I don’t know.”

He was still frowning. Shouldn’t he look less attractive that way?

“Like, if I walk on the wrong grass will I be kicked out?” I smiled at him, trying to reassure him. It was weird to see the man without that cocky attitude.

“Callie, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”

I held up my hand. “No, I’d rather you told the truth. I don’t want to make mistakes, and I will if you try to sugarcoat things. Other people will judge me, I know that. Please help me avoid that.” I hadn’t liked it, the way he’d overridden me about the clothes, but I got it now.

He rubbed his hand over his face. “What you were wearing would have made you uncomfortable here, because people would have stared and talked. Me? I’m expected to be a little ‘unconventional’ but I’ll be on my best behavior today so that it doesn’t reflect on you.”

That made me blink, and something inside me warmed. There was no way this guy would reflect poorly on me, but he was putting me at ease. And something in the way he said that… Had someone told him he had been an embarrassment?

“For the most part, just follow my lead, and I’ll let you know if you’re doing anything that’s a problem.”

“Thank you. I’m not here to get my ego stroked. I’m here to learn.”

He cocked his head, still looking at me, and I wasn’t sure what he was thinking. Maybe the women he was with normally were upset if he criticized them? They probably already knew this stuff. Not me. If something went wrong today with Hockey Stud and me, I might not get back here before our corporate event in September. And in that case, I needed to understand everything I could about this place.

“Okay, let’s go.” He started walking toward a smaller extension on the side of the building.

I scurried after him. “Should I carry one of those bags?” One set of clubs looked spotless, new, and my skin itched at the thought they might have been sent over for him like the clothes. But I kept my mouth shut. I’d learned early that I couldn’t afford pride. Why had I been so upset back at the condo? Actually, maybe I didn’t want to know.

We went into the pro shop. It was full of clothes, clubs, and other things that presumably helped with golfing, but I had no clue what they were. Everything was clean, tidy, and smelled of new and rich. More expensive materials and packing? An accumulated miasma of expensive colognes and perfumes? I didn’t know, just that it was a rich smell.

Cooper was greeted by almost everyone in the shop. He was polite and charming and didn’t flinch when people mentioned that the team lost their championship. But I watched him, the way I watched people to try to fit in. And something—a crease around his eyes, a slight rigidity with his smile—made me think he wasn’t as unbothered as he seemed to be.

I was paying more attention to the people around Cooper and how he responded than what he was actually doing, so I didn’t realize until he left the building, me trailing along behind him, that we weren’t headed to the greens. We took a path to a fenced-in field. Well, the netting on the fences rose about two stories high. The grass was gorgeous, like the rest of the property, but there were markers, and some golf balls scattered around.

“Okay, I don’t know golf, but this doesn’t look like what I’ve seen on TV or in movies.”

He dropped the bags of clubs. “This is the driving range.”

I squinted my eyes at him. Since we were both wearing sunglasses, I wasn’t sure he could see. “You said we had a tee time.”

He shrugged. “Saying we had a practice time didn’t have the same flair.”

“I thought we were preparing for the tournament in September.”

He pulled out a club, swung it in his hands and let it rest on the grass. “You’ve never golfed before, correct?”

“Correct.” I crossed my arms.

“Do you have any idea how to swing a club?”

I stared at the club he was holding. The theory seemed pretty simple. Hold it, swing back, and whack the ball. Then again, the theory of hockey seemed simple—get on skates and hit a puck with a stick. I couldn’t do that. Some professional golfers made a scandalous amount of money, so obviously not everyone could do this either.

“But if we were swinging it out there”—I waved a hand toward where the other people were moving around—“I’d be learning that part as well as how to swing a golf club.”

“And you’d be distracted, watching everyone like you were back in the pro room, while also trying to figure out how to handle your club. As well, you’d take a long time and hold people up, which you really don’t want to do if you can help it.”

I considered. “How long am I going to look stupid?”

He shook his head. “Not stupid, but you’re going to look like you don’t know what you’re doing.”

I’d hoped to do the real golfing thing in case this was the only time I got to Briarwood. But what he said sounded logical. And if I was going to do something embarrassing, better here where it was just the two of us. “Okay, if this is how learning golf goes.”

He looked down at the grass, and back to me. “I haven’t actually taught anyone how to play, but I googled some shit. I thought you could learn how to stand and swing while we work on the long game.”

“Long game. That’s shooting the ball far.”

He grinned. “There’s that sharp legal mind.” I was tempted to flip him off, but that would probably be a no-no. “When you tee off, you want to move the ball a long way, so we’ll work on that first.”

I shrugged. Made sense.

He pulled a tee from his pocket and pushed it into the grass. Then he passed me the club he’d been playing with. “I guessed on some clubs for you based on your height. This is a driver, so we’re starting with it. It’s meant for distance.”

I took it gingerly. “So I use this and hit the ball as hard as I can?” I eyed the fenced field. At least there wasn’t any risk to other people if I didn’t hit it straight.

He didn’t grin, but it was close. “Let’s see how that goes.”

Next thing he’d pulled a golf ball out of somewhere and bent to place it on the tee, pants stretching over his muscled thighs. He stepped back. I stared at him, golf club dangling from my hand.

“Go ahead.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me how I’m supposed to do this? How to hold the club and stand and whatever?”

“I thought I’d see what your natural swing looks like.”

I didn’t have a natural swing. I didn’t have an unnatural one. The only swing I had was with a broom.

I shuffled up to the tee, the ball resting on it. I held the club in my hands, checking that the big head would hit the ball. I looked over the grass where I hoped it would go. It seemed pretty straightforward.

How did those golfers on TV do it? I’d only seen them while I was channel surfing, so I didn’t have much idea, but I lifted the club behind me and brought it down hard. It smacked the earth behind the tee, the ball untouched.

I jerked my head sideways to get Cooper’s reaction. Again, I couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses. But his mouth—the corners were twitching.

Okay, I needed to shorten the length so when the club moved to the tee it didn’t hit the grass first. I adjusted my grip and tried again, this time catching just the top of the ball and knocking it off the tee to roll by my feet. I knelt down to pick up the ball and put it back on the tee. I didn’t look at Cooper again—he wasn’t offering advice. I adjusted the length of the club in my hands and took another swing. I did hit the ball, but it went up and sideways, and I jumped out of the way.

I huffed. “Aren’t you supposed to be teaching me?”

“Figured you’d want to try it for yourself first.”

He had a point, but I didn’t have to admit it. “Well, I obviously am doing something wrong.”

He nodded. “Watch me.”

He pulled a club out of the other bag and crossed over to the tee. I moved several feet away, where I was out of range of his swing and where I could get a good look at how he moved. He stopped in place, shirt stretched over broad shoulders and his hands sure on the club. He shuffled his feet a bit, adjusted his grip, swung back. And next thing the golf ball was sailing straight down the…green? Fairway? Range? Whatever.

His motions were smooth, graceful, and controlled, and a familiar wave of inferiority swept over me. I would never be able to do that. But I shoved my chin higher. And when he stepped away, I took my place at the tee, where he’d set up another ball, and tried again.

And again. No matter how I tried to recreate his smooth and effective swing, I missed the tee or chipped the ball too high, or too far sideways.

Throwing the club across the grass would have been satisfying but wouldn’t help. Cooper was still standing there, calm and patient.

“So teach me!”

A smile crossed his face, bringing out the dimples and adding charm to his already lethal good looks. I was too frustrated for that charm to affect me. “Now you’re ready.”

I almost growled.

“I’m going to have to touch you, put my arms around you to show you how you’re supposed to do this. It’s not a move. You understand why I have to do it?”

I wasn’t sure it wasn’t still a move, but he was right that I’d have resisted his attempt to do that earlier. All I had to do was imagine Benson sneering to give in.

“Right. Show me.”