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“Is that a bad thing? You wanted a course. I’m handing you one on a silver platter—and a good one at that. What’s the issue?”

“Nothing.” Mallory shakes her head. “It’s hard for you to understand the ways of us mere mortals.”

“Where is this coming from?” I tip my chin up. I’m used to Mallory riding me pretty hard on the links. That’s what makes her a good coach. But this feels personal. She’s making some pretty big assumptions about me, which is annoying .

She pulls in a deep breath. “Never mind. It’s nothing. I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m sorry.”

“An apology? Someone write it down.”

“Shut up, Bradley. Text me the name of the course and the golf pro’s contact info so I can coordinate with him.”

“Aye, aye, Coach.” I salute. “Anything else?”

Mallory shifts her gaze away from me and runs her teeth over her lips.

Lips. Lips. Lips.

Ugh. Stop it, Holland. They’re not for you.

She looks…uncertain…which is unnerving. She always knows her next steps. Mallory is the most self-possessed person I’ve ever met.

“What is it?” I drop my voice. Is she going to open up to me about her family? Is something seriously wrong?

“We need to set some ground rules,” she says.

“Ground rules?”

“You know, for our…arrangement.”

“The show?”

“Yes, Bradley,” she huffs. “The show. The one that’ll be filmed and where you’re planning to find love—with someone who’s not me, obviously.

I know Vivian said we don’t have to fake it, but we’re going to need to not embarrass each other…

at least for the first night of filming until you send me home, and I come to Cashmere Cove with you in the capacity of your coach and your coach alone. ”

“Have a little faith in yourself, Mal. Who says I won’t keep you around for a couple dates?”

She points at me. “This. This is exactly what I’m talking about. Ground rules. We need them. You can’t make a mockery of me. I won’t have my career imploding because of this.”

“If your career implodes, so will mine, so that’s not going to happen.”

“Good. Okay.” She nods. “Then we should keep it cordial, keep it surface level. We can talk about our shared interest in golf.

“And our other interests and hobbies,” I add. “I want people to see me as more than some one-dimensional jock.”

“Isn’t that all you are, though?” She bats her eyes sweetly.

I snort. “Ohh, burn.”

She shrugs. “Just saying.”

I roll my eyes. “Any other ground rules?”

“Keep your hands to yourself, and we’ll be fine. No touching my back or grabbing for my hand.”

“Afraid my touch will have you falling for me, huh?”

“More like afraid I’ll go up in flames.”

“Of attraction? Burning love?”

“I’m not even going to respond to that,” she says flatly.

I can’t help but smile. It’s so fun messing with her.

I’ve taken the Gilbert Blythe approach to my relationship with Mallory.

She hates my guts. I know she’ll never be mine, so if getting a rise out of her is all I’ll ever get, that’s what I’m going for.

“And…” She jabs a finger into my chest.

“Hey, thought you said no touching?”

She ignores me. “Not that this’ll come up on the first night, but absolutely no kissing—at least not with me. I don’t care what you do with the other women.”

“I don’t kiss and tell.” I smirk. “So I guess you’ll never know about how I kiss. Too bad for you.”

And for me!

“Hey, Mal. We’ve got the contract for you to look at,” Noah calls from behind me.

“Be right there,” Mallory says before she meets my eye and smirks back.

“You’re literally having your relationships filmed for all the world to see, hotshot.

Everyone will know who you’re kissing, how you’re kissing, what you’re talking about, and all of your feelings.

” She pats my shoulder and steps past me before stopping and turning to face me again. “Good luck with that. ”

She doesn’t wait for my response before disappearing into the room after Noah. I stare into space for a moment, coming down from the high I always feel when I verbally spar with Mallory, only to have my stomach bottom out when I realize, dang it, she’s right.

I’ve never had a problem having all eyes on me—at least not lately.

Middle school was a different story, but I’ve put those insecurities behind me.

Now, I’m the guy everyone flocks to. Golf has given me that social security, ever since I became a breakout star in high school.

But with golf, everyone is focused on my game play.

Most Eligible Mister will mean being under the microscope in an entirely different, more all-consuming way.

I swallow back the surge of unease rising up my throat, refusing to let anxiety get a hold on me.

This is exactly what I want. I can shine a light on the sport I love, prove to myself and everyone else that there’s more to me than some hotshot pro athlete with everything handed to him, make a decent amount of money, and find a woman who loves me for me in the process.

I can only hope having my coach on hand to witness said process doesn’t make the whole thing blow up in my face.