Page 32

Always On Your Side

Holland

I keep an eye on him until he’s out of sight, chugging off down the cart path back toward the clubhouse, and then I spin around.

Mallory’s usually creamy skin is a sickly gray. She’s got a dazed look in her eyes as she stares at the retreating golf cart.

I take a step toward her, still unsure what to do with my hands.

She closes her eyes, visibly swallows, and then blinks to look at me.

“Thank you, Holland.” Her voice comes out low and controlled.

If I wasn’t looking at her and seeing the physical signs of the encounter, I’d say she sounds pretty normal.

But nothing about this is normal. Nothing about this is okay.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“I’ll be fine.” She folds her arms over herself. “I just—“ She shakes her head as if shaking off a bad thought. “I just need a minute.”

She slumps down into the seat, and I grab her bottle of water. I hold it out to her, and she takes it, but she fumbles with the cap, so I take it back and unscrew it before handing it back.

When she pulls it away from her lips, she still looks dazed. “I can’t believe this happened again.”

At first, I think she’s talking about how I helped her take her medicine and a drink of water the other night when she wasn’t feeling well. But then…

“Has this guy messed with you before? ”

“What? No!” Her eyes widen when she looks at me, and I check my expression. I relax my face but don’t take my eyes off of her. She sighs. “Not him. But there was another guy. A while back.”

My fists ball up again, all on their own, finger nails slicing into the skin of my palms. At first, I don’t think she’s going to say anything else, but then she closes her eyes and leans her head back.

“I was dating the owner of a golf course in Florida. He was from old money. His family took over ownership of a course, and I was all set to be their golf pro. I was young, but I was good. I had recently passed my qualification exam. Anyway, one of his dad’s rich cronies had quite a bit to drink at the bar on the course, and I was alone on the practice green when he came stumbling out, asking for a private lesson. ”

The cinnamon roll I ate earlier threatens to come back up.

“I could tell he was drunk, and I tried to keep my distance. I told him I was done for the day and that I would be glad to reschedule him for a time I had available. But he pawed at me and said if I was done, then we should go back to his place and have some off-the-course practice.”

“Mallory—“

“Nothing happened,” she cuts me off. “Nothing bad, anyway. It was a lot like this guy.” She motions to the cart path.

“He grabbed my butt and pressed himself against me, but I was able to wiggle away. I fled into the clubhouse and found my boyfriend. The guy had enough wherewithal not to follow me. I told my boyfriend everything that happened, and…”

She clamps her mouth shut.

“He didn’t believe you?” My blood, which has been at a steady simmer just under my skin, is now working its way into a rolling boil.

She shakes her head sadly. “He did. That’s the worst part. He knew this guy was an inappropriate drunk. He said that’s how he was, and I shouldn’t worry about it. I told my boyfriend it was unacceptable behavior and that I refused to work with him again.

“Brevan said they’d make arrangements, but then, next thing I knew, I was being called into his office, where he and his dad sat on one side of the desk, and I sat on the other, and they told me that they’d decided to go in another direction with the golf pro position.

They appreciated everything I brought to the table, but they said I was too much of a distraction and not enough of an asset. ”

I curse. I want to do a lot more than that. I want to fly to Florida, find this guy and his dad, and give them a piece of my mind. I want to call up my contacts in the golf world and figure out a way to blackball their course.

Mallory shrugs. “Now you know. Yes, this sort of thing has happened before. No one took my side. That’s why I’m extra careful about mixing business and personal. I’ve been made a fool before, and my family’s financial security is too important to me to make the same mistake again.”

There’s a lot to unpack in what she told me, but I want her to know one thing straight away.

“I’m taking your side in this,” I tell her. “I am always on your side, Mallory, and I’m going to talk to Cy and get that guy’s name. He will never be allowed back here.”

Mallory bites her lip and nods. “I don’t want that creep around anyone else out here.”

I nod and tap out a brief message to Cy, explaining what happened.

He responds almost immediately.

Cy

Jarret Doogle is his name. Guy blew through here a minute ago. Demanded his money back. Said you were aggressive and that he was going to get the police involved .

I type back a quick message, telling Cy not to worry and that I’ll talk to him when I get back to the clubhouse. I ask him to get in touch with Collin, the county sheriff and a friend of mine.

Cy

On it. Is Mallory okay?

I glance over at her. Her spine is stiff, and she’s studying the tee box in front of us like it’s the Mona Lisa .

I answer my old coach honestly.

Holland

I don’t know.

His response is immediate.

Cy

Take care of her.

Holland

I will.

I pocket my phone and gently slide into the seat next to Mallory. I sit next to her in silence for a couple minutes.

“I’m sorry. We should be practicing.” She makes a move to get up from the golf cart, but I reach out and put my hand on her knee for a fraction of a second, stopping her.

“No.” I shake my head. “My practice is the last thing I’m concerned about right now. And you have nothing to apologize for.”

She slumps back in her seat, bringing her fingers up to massage her temples. “This is the problem, though, Holland.”

“Yeah, it is. That piece of—“

She holds up her hand, cutting me off.

“He assaulted you,” I finish. My chest is tight as an image of Mallory’s terrified face comes into focus again. I stare at her now, to convince myself she’s okay and safe .

“I know,” she says quietly, calmly. “I’m grateful you showed up when you did. But this is what I’ve tried to avoid since what happened at Brevan’s course.”

I don’t understand where she’s going with this, and my anger at the situation is rising. I want to wrap her in my arms, and hold her, and make everything go away.

“This is why, as a woman in a male-dominated field, I have tried my best to keep everything locked down. My emotions, my reactions, even my hair.”

I look over at where her red locks are tied back into her usual tight ponytail.

“I’ve tried to draw as little attention to myself—and the fact that I’m a woman—as possible, because I don’t want it to be a distraction from the work I do. I don’t want people to be able to make comments about my appearance or anything like that. I want the focus to be on my job.”

I consider my emotions on the golf course over the past couple of years.

I’ve been exuberant and candid, and the media has eaten that up.

No one has questioned whether or not I can do my job.

No one has said I’m flighty. But I can imagine if Mallory were to act similarly, it would be headline news. It’s an unfair double standard.

“Okay,” I say slowly. “I get that, and I’m sorry.

If people are distracted by you, that’s their fault.

Not yours. We’re all responsible for our own actions.

Your ex-boyfriend and his dad were out of line, to put it mildly.

” There are other words I could come up with to describe them, all of them curses, but I refrain.

“They placed blame on you that never should have been placed on you. Whether you’re outspoken or stoic, or however you act around the sport of golf, no one—and I mean, no one—can argue you’re not good at your job,” I tell her. “I’ll fight anyone who does.”

She cuts me with a look, eyebrows arched like she doesn’t believe me.

“What?” I turn so I’m facing her.

“The reporter at the Grand Masters did,” she says quietly. “And you said nothing.”

I tug in a quick breath. “You saw that?”

She nods once. “I was in the back of the room. I heard what he said. I saw you freeze up. Like it or not, the fact that I’m a woman and I’m your coach is now a talking point.

Throw Most Eligible Mister into the mix, and it’s basically a disaster.

One I don’t want to be subject to, and I don’t want you to have to deal with it as my player.

So, I’m sorry. I’m sorry about all of it. ”

“Hey.” I grab for her hands. They’re ice cold, and she gasps but doesn’t pull away. I rub her knuckles with the pads of my thumbs. “You are not to blame…for any of this.”

I take a deep breath. This is probably the worst time to admit this to her, but I can’t have her believing that I don’t have her back…not after what Jarret did. And not after finding out about her ex. Maybe this is the best possible time.

“You want to know what I was thinking about when that reporter asked about Most Eligible Mister and about you?”

She searches my gaze and doesn’t say anything. I take that as my cue to continue.