Page 12

Eavesdropping

Mallory

“ W e’ve always thought highly of Mallory, yes.”

It’s Drew. He must be doing a one-on-one interview.

“Can you tell me more about that?” Callen, one of the producers, prompts.

I lean my back against the wall. I should keep moving, but it’s like my feet have sunk through the Bradleys’ hardwood floors, and I’m stuck in place.

“She’s good for Holland. She doesn’t take any of his crap, but she also believes in him. He knows that, and he rises to the occasion to try to impress her and make her proud, on the course for sure, and off the course? Well, I guess we’ll all find out.” Drew chuckles.

I bite my lip. I should not be hearing this.

“Do you think Holland and Mallory could have a relationship beyond golf? Something romantic?” Callen asks.

“Anything is possible. I’d be all for it.

Holland has more respect for Mallory than he has for almost anyone else.

He’s told me as much. Respect is the foundation for any good relationship, isn’t it?

Holland says Mallory brings out the best in him.

She grounds him, and she makes him believe in himself.

I don’t know why he wouldn’t want to pursue something more with her. ”

I swallow and turn toward the kitchen again, putting an end to my inadvertent eavesdropping. The bathroom can wait. I go to the kitchen sink instead and find a glass for some water. I gulp it down, past the tightness in my throat, giving myself a small pep talk.

What I overheard means nothing. Holland’s dad was sharing his thoughts.

So what if he thinks we’d make a good match?

That’s conjecture on his part. It changes nothing.

In fact, Drew’s thoughts merely reiterate what I already know.

Holland and I have a great working relationship. Nothing more. Nothing less.

I put my glass in the Bradleys’ dishwasher and make my way back outside.

I take a seat at the patio table with Poppy, Rose, Noli, and Mia, and talk quickly turns to Mia’s pregnancy, which I appreciate.

A very neutral topic, and it’s easy to gush about a new baby and all the things that go along with getting ready to welcome a little one into the world: registries, and nursery design, and how Mia and Rose now share ownership of Mia’s bookstore.

I’m actually loving our conversation so much and am comfortable enough with these women that I don’t even jump when Holland comes up from behind me and puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Here.” He sets a sweatshirt in my lap. I glance up at him. At my furrowed brow, he shrugs. “You looked cold.”

I tug the well-worn, blue Cashmere Cove High School Golf Team sweatshirt over my head without thinking twice about how Holland figured out that I was freezing. It’s fleece-lined and cozy, and I can’t help but sigh as the warmth of it cocoons me.

“Thanks,” I whisper as the rest of the men join us, and we widen our circle.

Holland stares at me for a second. His gaze bounces to the faded front of the sweatshirt.

I tug on the neckline, my skin tingling under his stare.

Is he regretting handing over his sweatshirt?

Maybe he should, because I might never give it back.

Or is he thinking that it’s weird to see me, his coach, wearing something of his ?

I don’t blame him. This whole thing is weird. I want to say so, but I’m mic’d up, and that would spoil the entire fake-dating thing we’ve got going on.

He shakes his head slightly and meets my eye. He swallows, smiles quickly, and then nods, directing his next question toward the group. “How’s it going over here?”

“Good. Talking about babies.” Poppy gets a gooey look in her eyes and glances up at Mack before letting out a laugh. “You know, the first time I came to Sunday dinner, Darla asked me if I wanted kids. She told me I had the hips for it.”

She winks at her mother-in-law, who has the grace to blush. “You know I didn’t mean it negatively,” Darla hurries to put in. “Since you brought it up, though, dear, I’m still waiting,” she teases.

“Ma, you can’t say things like that,” Mack complains. “It’s personal, and a lot of people have trouble getting pregnant anyway. You never know what people are going through.”

Holland’s brother’s voice is deep and serious, and Darla looks appropriately chastened.

Poppy leans forward and pats Darla’s arm. “It’s okay. Mack and I are enjoying each other’s company for now, but we definitely want to give you lots of grandbabies.

“TMI,” Noli says on a cough.

Poppy laughs. “You know, looking back, the funniest part of that entire conversation is that, at the time, I was dating Holland.”

Mack grunts. “Not that funny.” He hoists Poppy up so she’s sitting on his lap, securing his arm around her waist. I catch a glimpse of Holland in my periphery, and there’s a look on his face that’s a cross between a frown and a grimace.

Poppy wraps her arm around Mack’s neck and snuggles in. “Clearly, everything worked out for the best.”

I glance back at Holland, who is now smiling, but I can tell there’s some strain to it. It’s the look he gets when he wants people to think he’s happy as can be. The same look he gave Andy Mason when he overheard him asking me to be his coach. He’s not actually happy.

My stomach sinks to my feet as a thought hits me. Is Holland still hung up on Poppy? Is that why he signed up for Most Eligible Mister ? To try to get over her?

I comb my memory and consider what I know about Poppy and Holland’s short relationship. They met in Florida. She moved to Cashmere Cove as he was going out on a couple longer legs of the tour. She broke it off with him and ended up dating Mack.

Holland never seemed too torn up over how things ended with Poppy. It didn’t affect his play, and there have been no shortage of dates or women since then. I never considered that he may still be pining over her.

The thought makes me…what? An uncomfortable sensation stirs in my chest, like a weight settling on my sternum.

I side-eye Holland as I try to name it. What is it that I’m feeling exactly, as I watch him watch Poppy and Mack?

Covetous? That’s ridiculous. I certainly don’t want Holland for my own.

He’s impossible. And I’m not in the market.

Am I sad for him? I guess that could be it. It can’t be easy to watch your brother and the woman you’re into be together.

“Mallory?”

I blink and find the whole circle looking at me. “What? Sorry. I missed that.”

“Since it’s apparently tradition to ask the women who come to Sunday dinner personal questions on night one, we were wondering if you’d like to have a family some day?” Darla looks at me kindly, but my heart starts to pound, and the weight on my sternum shifts to a fluttering in my stomach.

My gut instinct is to tell the truth. Of course I do.

But not right now. I’ve got my own parents to take care of first. Honestly, I haven’t even thought about dating for that reason.

I need to establish myself in my career, ensure my mom and dad are in a good place, and then I can think about my personal life .

But that seems like a whole lot more information than I want to share in front of the camera, which still has a green light signaling recording in progress.

I clear my throat, but Holland steps in. “You do not need to answer that, Mallory. Mom”—he arches his brows—“try not to scare my date away, will ya?”

She swats his arm, and there’s a lull in the conversation.

Everyone is sort of looking at each other and at the ground, and I feel like I need to say something .

I don’t want Darla to think I’m offended or for her to be self-conscious, especially since I don’t actually mind the question.

Family is important to me. It’s the most important.

I catch Darla’s eye and offer her a smile. “For the record, Mrs. Bradley, yes, I’d love a family someday. I love family get-togethers like this. We have a smaller crew, with my parents, my aunt, and me, but we’re close. I want to have that with a family of my own down the road.”

As far as answers go, it’s pretty vanilla, but it is honest. I leave out the fact that I, in no way, have considered having that family with her son.

Cece shoots me a thumbs up from off camera, and Vivian is nodding, like she’s pleased with my response. The conversation shifts, and shortly thereafter, the cameras stop rolling, and Vivian tells everyone that the date is officially over.

She pulls the two of us aside. “Usually, we film a goodbye scene, but I’m guessing the two of you aren’t planning on a goodnight kiss?”

She sounds hopeful, like she’s wishing for us to tell her she’s wrong and start making out right here, but Holland snorts nervously, and I scrunch up my nose in disgust.

“Yeah, no.” I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“No matter.” She shrugs. “We got plenty of content here tonight. The tension between you two is fire. ”

I cock my head to the side, because what is she even talking about?

Before I can ask, she goes on, “Mallory, we’ll drop you off at Daisy’s if you want to grab your things.”

“Actually, I need to run some work stuff by her,” Holland cuts in. “Mack and Poppy said they would drive her back to the inn once we were done. It’s on their way home—if that’s okay with you,” he adds to me.

“Sure.”

Vivian frowns. “Alright, then. We’ll take the Corvette back since you have your own car here, correct?”

Holland nods.

“Good. See you both soon.” Vivian leaves us there, and I face Holland.

“What did you want to talk to me about?”

“What? Oh. Nothing. Just thought you’d appreciate some off-camera time. Poppy would skin me alive if I didn’t come up with a way to get you to stick around without the production crew.”

“She’s a force, isn’t she?”

“One hundred percent.” Holland smiles, but there’s some wistfulness to it.

“Mallory!” Darla calls me over before I can figure out how to pry Holland about his feelings for Poppy. “Come inside for a minute.”

“Best not to keep her waiting.” Holland holds up a finger in his mom’s direction, signaling that she give us a minute. He turns to me. “Unless you’re trying to avoid more personal questions, in which case I can sneak you out of here.”

“She’s fine.” I chuckle. “I like her. Your family is great. Makes me miss home.”

“Is everything okay with your parents?” Holland asks quietly as we walk back to the group.

I cut him a look, my pulse skittering. “Why do you ask? ”

He holds up his hands, walking sideways and facing me. “You said that being away from them was going to be an issue, right? I figured something was up.”

I blow out a breath. This is what I need to avoid.

I don’t want Holland messed up in my personal life.

If he is, then my ability to demand his respect as his coach is called into question.

But I appreciate the way he’s looking at me right now.

There’s a genuineness to his expression, and I can tell he actually cares about my answer to his question.

“I know we’ve never gotten into each other’s personal lives,” he goes on before I can answer him, “but I should have said this before. If you need to go home, whenever, say the word. They should be your top priority.”

I stop walking and stare up at him, those two different reactions to him fighting for the upper hand inside my chest.

He pauses. “What?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. I’ve always been a straight shooter with Holland, and I’m not going to change that, so I’m going to tell him the truth.

“You’re right. We haven’t gotten personal.

There’s a reason for that. I’m your coach.

This whole thing”—I point to where the MEM trucks are driving down the road—“is muddying the boundaries between work and non-work. You need to be able to rely on me as your coach, and I need your respect. Getting personal jeopardizes that.”

He frowns. “But—“

I hold up my hand to stop him. I blow out a breath, feeling off balance.

The tight grip of control I have on this aspect of my life is slipping ever so slightly.

Because tonight, Holland has been considerate and self-aware, like maybe he thinks about people other than himself after all. Who would have thought?

I meet his gaze, and his eyes are hounding me, like he’s trying to sniff out what I’m not saying. I’d rather he not wonder. I’d rather just tell him. At least then I can own it .

“That being said,” I say slowly. “I appreciate you. I appreciate your concern , I mean.”

“You, Mallory Walsh, appreciate me?” He grins. “I’ve gotta go write this down in my diary or something. Record it so I can look back on this day forever.”

Anddd there’s the Holland I’m used to.

“Shut up, Bradley.” I shove his shoulder.

He laughs, and we wander back to where Drew has a blazing fire going in the stone-lined fire pit in the middle of the backyard.

“There you are.” Poppy bounds over. “Come on. Wine for the ladies is inside.”

She ushers me toward the house, and Mack hands Holland a beer. I glance over my shoulder at him as Poppy hooks her elbow with mine. He lifts his beer in silent salute.

I nod, trying not to overthink everything about this night, and tuck my hands into the front pocket of his sweatshirt.