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Most Eligible Mister

Holland

I ’m the first one into the room Noah commandeered for the meeting with the producers of Most Eligible Mister . He’s somewhere else on the grounds, corralling the network higher-ups ahead of this impromptu contract negotiation.

I stride to the window that looks out over the golf course where I just notched my sixth PGO tour victory.

I should be feeling on top of the world right now.

I’m at the top of my game professionally.

I’m about an hour away from finalizing details for a lucrative deal wherein I’ll be the star in a reality TV dating show. All cylinders are firing in my favor.

So why do I feel…off?

“What’s this meeting about?”

I spin around. Mallory is standing with her hands on her hips. She’s still wearing her cap, and the brim of it shades her eyes so I can’t see her glowering at me. I can picture it, though. No one glowers like Mallory.

Maybe that’s why I feel off. I haven’t told her about the Most Eligible Mister opportunity.

I was going to…countless times. But every time I started to, I chickened out.

I know for a fact she’s going to hate it.

She’s going to think I’m foolish and that I’m being reckless with the work we’ve put in to get me to the top of my game.

That this entire thing is a distraction I can’t afford.

I haven’t wanted to face her ire, so I took the coward’s way out…

I’m waiting to spring the news on her until my agent and the TV people are here to serve as a buffer.

She won’t lay into me when the people behind it are in the room, right ?

Then again, Mallory might—or at least the Mallory that shows up at my practices. The fiery, take-no-crap-from-me Mallory.

The other Mallory—the one who is so stoic it seems like it might physically hurt…the one who shows up in public—wouldn’t dare.

I stare at her, wondering which side of Mallory I’ll see.

I refuse to acknowledge—to myself or anyone else—that another reason I haven’t told her about Most Eligible Mister is because there is a not-so-tiny part of me that has a massive crush on my coach.

But I will die before I admit that out loud.

Still, the thought of dating twenty other women when the one woman I’ve had a thing for for the past year looks on isn’t exactly how I would have drawn this up.

But beggars can’t be choosers. There’s no way I’ll ever be good enough for a woman like Mallory Walsh, and starring on Most Eligible Mister felt like a good way to meet someone new—someone else I can gel with and hopefully live happily ever after with—all while getting rid of the pesky romantic fantasies I’ve had about my coach.

“Hello? Bradley?” she prompts. “What’s going on?”

I blink and then grin, because my default with this infuriatingly addicting woman is to pester her relentlessly. “I think you’re forgetting something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you mean to say, ‘Holland, congrats on the win. You looked amazing out there today. I’m so proud of you.’”

Mallory takes a step around me. “Nope. Not at all.”

“You’re not proud of me?” I cover my heart. “I’m wounded.”

“Pretty sure you’ll survive,” she mutters dryly.

“I don’t know. How am I ever supposed to perform under pressure again if I don’t have the full backing of my coach?”

“I think you’ll manage just fine.”

“Don’t you like when I win? When we win?”

Mallory narrows her eyes. “Of course I do. But your ego is big enough without any praise from me. ”

“What if I told you your praise is the most important to me? That it’s what I’m out there giving it my all for?

That nothing else matters to me but making you proud?

” I wag my brows to hide the actual truth behind my words.

I care about having Mallory’s respect more than I want to admit.

Seeing her being courted—for lack of a better word—by Andy Mason didn’t sit well with me. She’s my secret weapon.

“I’d tell you to quit talking like a sausage.”

“Who’s a sausage?” Noah strides into the room, followed by a woman who I assume is Vivian Dell, the executive producer of Most Eligible Mister , and Steve, my caddie.

“Mallory and I were just discussing…meats.” I shoot her a grin. “And her favorite varieties of sausages.”

Mal’s pale skin flushes, and she aims the scowl to end all scowls in my direction.

“Sounds riveting.” Noah beams at Mallory. “Good to see you again, Coach. Quite the day out there, huh?”

“It’s always good to win.” Mallory reaches out and shakes Noah’s hand. She turns to Steve. “Amazing work, Steve.”

He grins at her, and I scoff. I see her lips twitch.

A couple more people I don’t recognize shuffle into the room.

My personal lawyer, Asher, strolls in last. After he arrives, we all sit at the table in the center of the space.

I end up right next to Mallory. She crosses her legs and clasps her hands on the table, eyeing Asher, who is sitting opposite of us next to Noah.

“Why do I have a bad feeling about this?” she whispers to me out of the corner of her mouth.

“Because you refuse to see the good in anything…or should I say anybody .”

“I see plenty of good in plenty of bodies…just not yours.”

“The sooner you quit pretending you don’t like this body, the better for all of us.”

Mallory opens her mouth, most likely to tell me to take a flying leap, but Noah claps his hands once, bringing us all to attention .

“Thank you for making the time for this meeting, everyone. I know it’s a bit unprecedented, but since we’re in a time crunch, we thought it would be good to have everyone here so we’re on the same page.

We’re going to go over the final details of the contract between Holland”—Noah gestures to me—“and the folks at Most Eligible Mister …

a show that needs no introduction.“ He grins at the MEM team, seated together at the end of the table.

Confusion puckers Mallory’s smooth forehead. She darts a look at Noah, then Vivian, and finally cocks her head in my direction, but I pretend not to notice.

“This is Vivian Dell, the executive producer of MEM , and her assistant, Caroline. They’re here today with the show’s lead attorneys, Davey and Micah, so we can get this contract signed and get started filming Holland’s season.”

Noah keeps talking, but my focus is solely on my coach. Mallory is rigid next to me.

“Your season, Bradley?” she hisses. “You’re going on the show?”

“Surprise,” I mumble back.

“When were you going to mention this?” Mallory’s knuckles are turning white. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she murmurs.

“I’ve hashed out all the details from our end,” Noah continues, oblivious to the way my coach is seething in her seat next to me. “Filming will begin Friday at a mansion the show has leased in Florida. There will be twenty women, and—“

“I’m sorry.” Mallory raises a hand, cutting Noah off. “This is preposterous. What about Holland’s golf schedule?”

“It’s all accounted for,” Noah assures her.

“How is that even possible?” Mallory is the picture next to the word skeptical in the dictionary.

“I outlined the importance of my practices and training regimen and the timeline of my upcoming tournaments. That’s being worked into the production schedule.” I spin in my chair to face her, letting loose a smirk. “Give me a little credit, Coach. ”

“A little credit for being an idiot? Sure.” Mallory says it, and then it’s like she realizes she spoke out loud in front of the whole group, and her eyes go wide, and her cheeks turn pink.

“I mean”—her gaze flits around the table—“I’m not trying to be disrespectful of what you all do, but Holland is a professional golfer at the peak of his game and coming in to one of the most grueling legs of the tour circuit.

We need to be focused on that, not on some ridiculous dating show.

No offense,” she adds with a guilty look in Vivian’s direction.

Vivian Dell wears black-rimmed glasses, and she’s staring at Mallory over the top of the frames. She bounces her gaze to me, keeping her expression neutral. I have no idea what the woman is thinking.

“I know how important it is to keep Holland playing at the level he’s at, so this contract is going to be a little different than most.” Noah begins outlining the terms of the production contract.

He’s already briefed me on the basics, so I tune him out as he goes over the schedule and my golf requirements.

Designated practice time each day. No film crew during practices. That sort of thing.

“Hear that?” I lean over and whisper into Mallory’s ear. “He’s saying I’m special.”

“He’s saying you’re high maintenance, but good try.”

“Ms. Walsh, is it?” Vivian leans forward at the table, drawing my attention and causing Mallory to sit up straighter next to me.

“I appreciate your concerns. We, too, want Holland to stay on top of his game. The better the golfer, the better the ratings.” She winks easily.

“Which is why after the first night at the MEM mansion, we’ll be flying the top ten women to Cashmere Cove. ”

Mallory crosses her arms. She side-eyes me. “Your hometown?”

I nod, and Noah jumps in. “We’ve worked it all out.

Holland and the remaining women will continue their journey in Cashmere Cove, while he continues his rigorous training schedule with you.

Steve will fly in as needed, though Holland thinks he can conference with him virtually.

I’ve spoken to Mayor Witmore in Cashmere Cove, and he and the town are thrilled to host the show.

It’ll be a great boost to the economy. A win-win for everyone, truly. ”

Mallory looks like she’d like to tell Noah to stop talking like a sausage too.

I’d like to hear that from her, honestly. This is the closest she’s ever come in my presence to losing her cool publicly, and I’d be one hundred percent here for it.

Instead, she takes a deep breath and smooths out her features. “So this meeting is for what, then?”

“To finalize the details with the network and to ensure that you’re willing to coach from Cashmere Cove for the next six to eight weeks,” Noah says.

“And,” Vivian cuts in, “to offer you a spot on the show.”