Page 13

Practice Makes Perfect

Holland

I hear the screaming first.

It’s Monday morning, and I’m on a group date, trying to pay attention to Belle during our individual time together. She’s attempting to convince me to re-enact the “Tale as Old as Time” dance scene from Beauty and the Beast .

“Look at this courtyard. It’s the perfect dance floor!” she gushes.

That’s when the screaming starts. It takes me a minute to realize it’s not the little voice inside my head begging me to flee the scene.

But no. It’s actual screaming. Many women screaming.

“What’s that?” Belle frowns and cranes her neck around.

“Don’t know. But we should go check it out.” I offer her my hand, and we jog back around to the sitting area where I left the remaining ladies who we selected to come on the hiking date.

Mindy Sue, Jennah, and Britt are huddled up on one end of the sectional, looking horrified as the other three women, Cambria, Liz, and Michelle, are screaming at each other.

Then the hitting starts.

“No! He’d look better with me!” Cambria shrieks and then slaps Liz square across the face.

I spring into action, jumping between the women.

“What is going on here?” I yell .

“You diva!” Liz launches herself at Cambria, and I catch her but not before the heel of her hand collides with my cheek bone. “Oh my gosh, Holland, I’m so sorry!”

Callen has stepped in to corral Michelle and Cambria, both of whom are breathing heavily.

“Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?” I don’t even bother to hide my annoyance. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not getting into catfights. I don’t have time for this group date from you-know-where. I want to be anywhere but here right now.

“Michelle said she would look best on your arm, because her color profile complements yours,” Cambria huffs. “But that’s not true. You and I would clearly look best together.”

“You would not. I would look best with him. I mean, look at us.” Liz, uses her position closest to me to hook her hand into the crook of my elbow and tug me down so our faces line up.

“Color profiles?” I am so confused. I shake my head. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. Cambria, Liz, Michelle. I appreciate your time and…enthusiasm. But this isn’t going to work.”

Cambria’s jaw drops. “You’re sending us home?”

“All of us?” Liz wails.

Chad hustles into the foray. “Holland, to be clear, you’re making an unprecedented, sweeping elimination here on this group date. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” I’m one hundred percent sure these are not women I can see sharing a future with.

“Then ladies, it’s time to say your goodbyes.”

Liz stomps her foot next to me. “We would have made such pretty babies.”

She stalks off with a pout. In all the hubbub, the idea of having babies is what my mind snags on.

I blame my mother…and Poppy, for bringing it up last night.

The wistful look Mallory got on her face when my mom asked her about wanting a family is branded in my mind.

She looked so hopeful and filled with longing, bu t also a little melancholy.

All I wanted to do was ask her more. But that is definitely not my place.

She’s made that abundantly clear. Talk about blurring the personal/professional line we have marked in the sand.

Besides, I’ve got other things to worry about at the moment.

Cambria is bawling, and Michelle just shrugs as she follows her producer for a one-on-one interview.

I do what Vivian tells me to do and wrap up the date with the remaining women and then escape as fast as humanly possible.

I make the quick drive through downtown Cashmere Cove to the golf course, feeling all sorts of off kilter.

The thought of those women coming to blows over wanting to be on my arm isn’t as flattering as maybe they hoped it would be.

I have to think the whole thing was a stunt.

Production was practically salivating, but I couldn’t help but feel cheapened by it.

Like, did those three women care more about looking good with me than they did about getting to know me?

That’s been my fear since before this show.

It comes with the territory of being a pro athlete.

I know that, and to be honest, I’ve leaned into casual dating in the past because I’m terrified that striving for something more will only lead to disappointment and, worse, humiliation when it comes out that no one wants the real me.

The guy who can’t get words out when he’s nervous or anxious.

Who’s been hiding behind a front of faux confidence but secretly always wonders if golf were to go away, would everyone who says they care about me disappear too? I’m all in my head now.

It’s ironic that I’ve made golf my entire personality, and I’m afraid of how people will treat me if I’m not as successful in my sport. At the same time, I love the sport so much and rely on it as my anchor—what I’ve always run to when the rest of life spirals.

In any case, I’ve got a practice to get to, and I’ve never been more excited to get out on the course and put the entire group date disaster behind me .

Cy, the manager at the golf course in Cashmere Cove and my old high school coach, is waiting for me outside the clubhouse when I pull up twenty minutes ahead of my scheduled coaching session with Mallory. I take a deep breath and stride over to him.

“Holland! Welcome, welcome! Good to see you.” He shakes my shoulder before wrapping me in a bear hug.

“Thanks for fitting me in here,” I say when I step back.

“You kidding?” He chortles. “It’s an honor.”

I shake my head. “None of that now. You knew me back when.”

Back when I was an insecure kid with a stutter who was afraid to say anything out loud for fear of drawing the unwanted attention of the bullies who made me feel like scum.

“I did.” He chuckles a warm-sounding laugh, not privy to the dark place my thoughts have scampered off to. “How are you, son? How’s everything going? Can’t believe you’re doing a TV show. Are the cameras coming here?” He glances past me.

“Hate to disappoint you, but no. My coach would not allow that. Proprietary practice info and all that.”

He nods sagely. “Smart woman. Mallory Walsh, right? I’ve looked her up. Seems like she’s a good fit for you.”

My mind flashes back to how she leaned into me when my dad was giving a toast. She tucked so perfectly under my arm I almost couldn’t breathe.

“I hear she’s one of your contestants too.” He wags his eyebrows. “And a good one.”

I tip my chin, widening my eyes. “Who’d you hear that from?”

“Word around town is she’s the one to beat. She was at Sunday dinner last night, huh? Willow loved her. I ran into her at the market earlier today. How’d dinner go for you?”

Easy. That’s the only thing I can think of. Having Mallory around was natural. Everyone loved her. Too bad I can’t actually pursue her.

Since Cy knows me better than almost anyone, there’s no use lying to him. “It was good. Much better than any of my dates with the other women so far,” I admit. “But it’s early,” I add. “And she’s way too good for me.”

Cy stares me down. “You scared, boy?”

“Of what?”

“Falling for her?”

I bite back the words that are on the tip of my tongue: too late .

Cy’s bushy eyebrows raise up. “Here she is now.”

I spin around in time to see Mallory striding up the pathway toward the clubhouse.

Her hair is slicked back into a ponytail, and she’s wearing her usual polo shirt and golf skirt.

She’s got on a long-sleeve black shell for warmth.

I wish she was still wearing my sweatshirt.

Something protective and primal stirred inside me at the sight of her in my clothes last night.

I close my eyes briefly and blink the memory away. I cannot be thinking about her like that right now.

She nods her greeting to me before reaching out her hand to Cy. “Mallory Walsh. Thanks for having us. You must be Cy.”

“I am.” Cy shakes her outstretched hand, and his smile crinkles at his eyes. “You’re most welcome here. Any friend of Holland’s is a friend of ours. Make yourselves at home.”

“We will.” She turns to me. “Ready to get started?”

She’s got her mask on—her blank face. It’s Mallory, but she’s toned down from the fiery woman I see when I’m one-on-one with her. She’s muted for the general population.

This version of Mallory bugs me. It’s not the full her. For some reason, I want Cy to see the real-deal Mallory. The passionate woman with opinions and a quick tongue.

“You’re late, you know.” I tell her. “Did you stay out too late last night?

“Yeah, with your parents.” Her eyes flash, and she checks her watch before scowling at me. “I’m not late. Come on. Let’s get started.”

“Hold on a sec. Cy here was telling me you’re a fan favorite. ”

“What?” Mallory frowns. “A fan favorite?” She glances at Cy, who is watching us interact with interest.

He beams back at her. “Nothing to worry about. Nothing at all. It’s just that folks around town are rooting for you and Holland here to hit it off on more than the golf course, if you know what I mean.”

Bless Cy’s heart. We all know what he means, and the eyebrow wagging isn’t necessary.

“Oh. Well. That’s…nice.” I think Mallory is attempting to smile, but it looks more like a wince.

My lips quirk up, but I fight back a grin at her reaction.

Maybe I should be offended that the thought of being paired up with me romantically has her looking like she’s just been told she was exposed to a nasty rash and chances of catching it are ninety-five percent.

But messing with her is worth the hit to my pride.

Cy laughs a big, booming laugh. “Don’t look so happy about it.”

Mallory scrunches up her face. “Sorry. I know everyone here adores Holland, and I’m sure the rest of the women on the show do too.”

Adore me for what reason, though? My mind flashes to the catfight and the sour taste it left in my mouth about these women and their motivations. At least with Mallory, I know exactly where I stand.

“I sense a ‘but’ coming,” Cy says, his lips quirking upward.

“But…” she continues, matching his wry grin.

“There it is.” Cy grins back.

Mallory flicks her gaze to me and then back to Cy. “Can you keep a secret?” she asks him.

Where is she going with this?

“Sure can,” he says, rocking back on his heels.

She takes a deep breath and side-eyes me again before turning her full focus to Cy.

“Then I’ll be honest with you, since you’re going to be seeing a lot of Holland and me off camera.

I think it’s better if you know the truth.

The two of us are only ever going to be coach and player.

Production and the show want to make this into more than it is, but we have a professional relationship. That’s it.”

Cy bounces his head up and down a couple times, like he’s digesting her words. He squints at me and smiles before looking back to Mallory. “In any case, Holland is lucky to have you. You have him playing well. What’s on the practice schedule today?”

“Putting. We need to get him more comfortable from inside ten feet.”

Cy nods. “He’s always liked the longer putts. Has a thing for the drama of it all.”

“Hey now! Let’s not forget that I’m great at longer putts. I thrive on that drama.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Mallory mutters.

Cy laughs. “I can see why he likes you.”

I clear my throat.

“As a coach, I mean,” Cy amends. “You don’t take his crap, do you?”

“Not if I can help it.”