Page 18

Secret Notes

Holland

C had Erickson is in his element on this mini-golf course.

He’s got his hair gelled back, and he’s wearing tight-fitting khaki shorts and an obnoxious, orange floral polo shirt.

I’m standing off to one side of him, leaning up against a mini-sized putter.

The women are in a line in front of us. The sun is high and bright in the springtime sky, but the air is chilly, so everyone is wearing sweatshirts and leggings.

My gaze snags on Mallory. She’s got her red hair tied up in a ponytail, and it’s poking through the back of her baseball cap. She catches me staring and arches a brow. Busted . I blink and turn my focus back to Chad, who’s explaining how the day ahead will go.

“So, you’ll be split into two teams, and your team’s collective score will be submitted at the end of the round. The team with the lowest average score will earn more time with Holland at this afternoon’s cocktail hour. We all know how precious time is, don’t we?”

That feels like a pretty existential question, if you ask me, but all of the women—Mallory excluded—are nodding vigorously.

I’m flattered, and a bubble of hope rises in my chest. These ladies are here for me.

There’s a chance this could work—with Mallory or someone else.

I need to keep an open mind. I should compartmentalize how I’m feeling about my coach and focus on getting to know these other women more deeply.

I raise my hand and step forward. Chad pauses mid-way through his sentence. He’s not expecting me to speak right now, but I have a great idea, and I’m going to go for it .

“Since golf is sort of my thing”—I pause as the women titter…and Mallory rolls her eyes—“I’ll be around to give you some pointers during your round. Let me know if you need any extra help.” I take my time and smile down the line at the women.

“This is your chance for quality time with Holland, doing something he enjoys. Make the most of it,” Chad gets back in his groove.

He holds up a handful of blue bandanas. “Now, for the teams. Ladies, when I say your name, please join your teammates. First, the blue team. Mindy Sue, Britt, and Jennah.” The three of them step forward and take their bandanas and stand off to the side.

“And the red team. Mallory, Ava, and Zelda.” Chad holds out the red bandanas, and the three remaining women take one each.

I catch Mindy Sue’s mouth droop into a frown as she makes eye contact with Mallory. But then she spins and throws her arms around Jennah’s and Britt’s shoulders.

Vivian’s plan to keep Mindy Sue and Mallory apart is at play here, I see. I guess she wants to keep them off balance—or in competition. It’s weird to think about Mallory competing for me…mostly because she doesn’t want me. But whatever floats Vivian’s boat. Not my problem.

For what it’s worth, the remaining women appear to be, if not best friends at this point, at least friendly with each other.

And mutually respectful. I appreciate that.

I’ve watched Most Eligible Mister with my mom enough to know it’s not always the case.

I distinctly remember watching the show with my mom in high school, and during one drama-filled shouting match between the contestants, my mom sighed and said, “If a woman can’t get along with other women, that’s a red flag.

Find yourself a girl’s girl, Holland. You won’t be sorry about that. ”

I wasn’t sure what she meant when I was a teenager.

I remember thinking that I’d take any type of girl who was into me.

But now I get it. If a person—woman or man—can’t make and keep friends, that doesn’t bode well for how easy they’ll be to live with.

So much of friendship involves getting into someone else’s shoes and listening.

Bearing with one another, and all that jazz. That’s something that matters to me.

Mallory bears with you .

The voice inside my head that is gunning for the role of Mallory’s biggest cheerleader is not helping me keep an open mind about the other women at the moment.

“Blue team. You’ll start at hole one. Red team, you’ll start at hole nine. May the best team win!” Chad claps, and the ladies cheer.

Mindy Sue, Britt, and Jennah linger near the hole we’re standing on while Vivian motions for the camera crew to shift and capture the events from different angles. Mallory and her team turn to go around to the far side of the course with a camera man and Callen.

“Wait!” Jennah says before they get too far. “I think we’d all benefit from a little golf lesson.”

She cozies up next to me, holding out her putter directly in front of her and closing one eye to stare down the shaft of it. “Holland, what pointers do you have for us? I want to win!”

Britt smiles gamely, and Mindy Sue nods.

She’s leaning against her putter, and she looks polished and put together.

She’s a weather woman, if I remember correctly, and she’s got that vibe going on today.

Hair sprayed so not a strand is moving in the wind.

Long-sleeved skin-tight green pullover and well-fitting joggers.

Her tennis shoes are sparkling white. She looks camera ready.

Of the three women on the blue team, she’s the one who I feel the most connection with.

We had a good conversation on night one.

She’s normal and funny, and if Mallory is friends with her, that’s about as good a vote of confidence as anyone can get.

“Great idea!” Vivian calls from off camera. “Holland, why don’t you walk them through some basic technique tips. Everyone crowd in.”

I step closer to Mindy Sue, and she smiles. I motion for her club. “Care to be my test dummy?”

“Sure. ”

She steps up to the tee box, and I step in behind her. “May I?” I hold up my hands, waiting for her permission. When she nods, I put one hand on the back of her upper hip—keeping it at an appropriate height, mind you…I’m not trying to get handsy here.

“Your weight should be evenly distributed between both legs. You want your knees to be soft and your hips relaxed.” I gently press my fingers against Mindy Sue’s hip, and she bends her knees a couple times, bouncing into a ready position.

“Good.” I smile down at her from where I’m standing behind her.

She glances up at me and grins. “I like these lessons. What else you got for me?”

This is where I should be feeling some sort of spark, right? It’s how it always happens in the movies. In books. In my fantasies. I’m on a golf course—a mini one, but still—with my hands on a beautiful woman, showing her the ropes of the sport I love. This is the stuff dreams are made of.

Yet, as I smile back at Mindy Sue, I do a quick catalog of my feelings and…nothing.

My pulse isn’t kicking harder than usual. The smell of her shampoo—something vanilla-y—isn’t driving me crazy. I could just as easily not go on with this golf lesson right now.

What is wrong with me?

“Holland! Let’s keep going,” Vivian calls from off camera.

Shoot. I’ve been staring at Mindy Sue, vacantly, but still. Hopefully the cameras think I’m looking at her with affection and not with apathy.

“Right. Sorry.” I step back from Mindy Sue, keeping a palm resting on her lower back so it doesn’t look like I’m fleeing the scene.

I glance around at the rest of the women.

Everyone is looking at me, waiting for me to say whatever it is I’m going to say next—except for Mallory.

She’s staring at where my hand is on Mindy’s back .

I clear my throat. “The goal is to keep your lower body as still as possible. Too much movement can cause your putt to deviate unnecessarily from your target. Right, Mallory?”

Her chin pops up, and her gaze snaps to mine. “What?”

“Isn’t that what you’re always telling me? To keep my lower body locked in, hips over heels and feet slightly wider than shoulder-width apart.”

“Yes. Exactly.” Mallory stands up straighter. “The fewer variables or unnecessary lower-body fluctuations, the more accurate your putting will be.”

“Too bad. I’m all about that lower-body fluctuation.” Jennah steps closer to me and does a small twerk against my backside.

Andddd we’re going to be done here.

I try to keep my smile in place as I shift out of Jennah’s range. “You all look incredible. You’re going to be naturals, I’m sure. Why don’t we get started so we can get on with the date, yeah?”

The ladies agree and separate into their respective groups. I spend the first few holes with the blue team. I chat with Mindy Sue, and it’s friendly and fine. Nothing earth shattering, but not bad either.

Britt and Jennah are vying for my attention, and I’m trying to be a good sport about it. But their over-the-top antics aren’t my style.

I swear, every time Jennah lines up to putt, she shoves her butt out an unnecessary amount.

And then she wants me to help her get into “proper position”—her words, not mine—and she keeps asking me what my favorite position is.

With a straight face! I feel like I’m going crazy because how is no one else picking up on the double entendre there?

I’d love for Mindy Sue to be my ally in this entire debacle, but she is giving me nothing other than a small shake of her head and a good-natured smile at Jennah’s antics.

When the blue team steps up to the fourth hole, I jog over to catch up with the red team .

They’re at the end of hole twelve, and Mallory is putting. She sinks her shot, and Ava and Zelda cheer.

Zelda catches sight of me, and her eyes brighten. “Holland! We’re totally going to win. Mallory is our ace in the hole.”

“Literally.” Ava beams. “She’s made two hole-in-ones in the four holes we’ve played.”

“She’s one of the best in the business.” I nod at Mallory. She dips her chin, as if she doesn’t want the attention, but my chest tightens with desire to make her believe I’m sincere. “You are,” I add, and something in my voice catches her attention.

She looks up at me, and her gaze flutters around my face, as if trying to make out my sincerity. I don’t look away. I want her to know that I’m not joking around. That I mean what I’m saying.

Her brow is furrowed, and when she determines that I’m being serious, her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Thanks,” she says quietly.

A tether stretches between us. It’s sparkly and hot and dangerous and delicious. I want to tightrope across it and see what happens next. But out of the corner of my eye, I catch Ava and Zelda exchanging a look, and I remember myself. Zelda is scowling. Ava has her lip tugged between her teeth.

I step back, breaking eye contact with Mallory, who shakes her head ever so slightly.

“Where to next?” I clap my hands.

Mallory checks her scorecard. “Hole 13.”

The four of us walk ahead toward the next tee box.

“This is such a cute hole!” Ava gushes.

There’s a waterfall up ahead, and we’ll have to cross a foot bridge over a decent-sized stream that cuts through the course and this hole in particular.

“It’s made to be a smaller version of Cashmere Cove. This waterway is like the Bay of Green Bay.”

“Are there waterfalls around here?” Zelda asks, raising her voice to be heard over the rush of falling water.

“Nah. I think that’s for effect. ”

“I wish I had my phone.” Ava pouts. “I’d love to get a picture.”

I glance beyond the cameras. “Callen, can you take our picture?”

“Sure. But let’s finish this hole first,” he says. “Then I’ll snap a couple shots.”

“That okay with you, ladies?” I ask the red team.

“You’re the best, Holland!” Ava goes up on her tiptoes and kisses me on the cheek.

“Whoa, thanks.” I laugh because I’m startled.

She beams at me, and I consider her. It’s a sweet gesture.

She’s being fun and playful, and usually I’d be totally into this.

What did I tell Mallory before we went to my parents’ house?

I’m a big fan of physical touch. I wish it was doing something for me, this physical touch from Ava, but I’ve got nothing going on in the heart department.

“It’s just a picture,” I tell her.

“I know. But you didn’t have to coordinate it for me. For us,” she adds, glancing at Zelda, who nods, and Mallory, who forces a smile.

Mal clears her throat. “Okay, then. Golf first, picture later. I’m up, right?” She checks her scorecard. “Yep. My turn.”

“I’ll hold that for you,” I say, as she goes to tuck her card into her pocket.

Mallory hesitates and stares down at my outstretched palm.

“I promise I’ll keep it safe,” I add with a grin.

She hands it over, and I feel a strange power trip as she takes her position in the tee box, our roles reversed. I study her scorecard. Sure enough, she notched a hole-in-one on hole nine and hole eleven. She completed holes ten and twelve in two strokes each.

“Dang, Mallory. Remind me again why you aren’t out on the LPGO circuit?”

“You need me too much,” she deadpans.

She says it without hesitation, but she grins to let me know she’s teasing me, and dang it if that doesn’t do something to me. I’m suddenly hot around the collar of my polo shirt, and my pulse has picked up.

“Is it that obvious?” I wink.

“Only to everyone watching you play.” She says it with some sass, and Ava laughs. Zelda cozies up to me, tucks her arm into mine, and starts chatting with me about my favorite aspects of golf and what I love most about being on the pro tour.

I answer her questions mindlessly. These are the sorts of questions I could field in my sleep.

Zelda is a gorgeous woman, and she’s obviously trying to endear herself to me.

Her laughs are overly loud, and she keeps pressing her chest into my side.

But my focus is fully on Mallory as she positions herself over her ball and glances up toward the hole.

A cacophony of sea gulls circles overhead, and a plop of poop drops inches from where Zelda is standing.

“Gross!” She bolts away from me, and I heave a sigh of relief.

I actually hate birds, but right now, I want to thank that diarrhetic one.

Mallory glances over at where I’m standing, and I shrug.

When she looks away from me, all thoughts of birds flee, and I take the opportunity to use the tiny pencil she’s been writing her scores down with to jot a quick note in the margin of her card.

By the time she glances back, I’m finished.

I don’t let on that I’ve written anything.

The whole point is for her to find it later…

like when she leaves me messages inside my golf billfold.