She thought about her date with Landon last night. She’d never tell Joe, but it was a disappointment. She’d managed to rush home and change into something presentable, then run a brush through her hair and arrange it into a loose ponytail at the nape of her neck. She only wore makeup to church on Sundays, but she added a little mascara to her sparse eyelashes before hurrying back to the shop in time for Landon to pick her up in his white Mercedes with genuine leather upholstery. How did she know it was leather? He had mentioned it twice on the way to the steak house in Hot Springs.
The meal was delicious, the conversation anything but. She’d had no idea someone could talk about himself for an hour straight, but Landon had. After she stopped gaping at his looks, she realized he was boring and tuned him out about fifteen minutes in. That’s when she started thinking about Joe’s warning. Surely he hadn’t gotten upset because he knew Landon was a dud when it came to interpersonal communication. But why had he been so insistent about wanting her to stay away from him?
It was only when Landon started inquiring about her shop, the history of it, and how she ran the business that she felt remotely engaged. Some of his questions were a little too nosy, especially the ones about the day-to-day management of her business, but then again, he was a lawyer. They were used to asking questions. She had evaded the more detailed ones, but at least she’d had the chance to get a word in edgewise.
When he dropped her off at home, she had hurried inside, not inviting him in. She wouldn’t have even if things had gone well. She wasn’t ready for that step yet. The date had been such a letdown she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to go out with anyone else at that point.
Knowing she couldn’t keep Joe waiting, she got out of the car. At least tonight would be over quickly. She fully intended to humor him for a few minutes, then go back home and spend Friday night on her couch, like she always did.
The sudden sensation of butterflies in her stomach as she approached the range surprised her. They’d been absent last night with Landon, but now they were flitting around with a vengeance.
Sophie touched her stomach, as if the gesture would settle them down, then she looked out at the range. A long strip of fake grass was divided into several spaces, and two golfers were already hitting balls into a large field. To her right stood a brightly painted blue-and-yellow clubhouse. She assumed she needed to go there for instructions.
“Hey, you made it.” Joe appeared at her side.
She turned and looked at him. For once he wasn’t wearing his baseball cap. His black hair was almost military short, but the style looked good on him. He was dressed in a navy blue collared, short-sleeved shirt, and instead of shorts he wore trim khaki pants. She barely noticed those, since she couldn’t keep her eyes off his biceps. They were huge and accentuated by his tight short sleeves.
Quickly she turned away from him and said, “Uh, yeah. I’m here. What do we do?”
“Don’t sound so excited.” He chuckled, and she released an inward sigh of relief that he seemed relaxed. She didn’t like being uptight, and lately she’d been wound up tighter than an old-fashioned alarm clock.
He led her to the clubhouse, asked for something called a driver for her, then pulled out his wallet.
She held up her hand. “I’m paying,” she said and pulled her own wallet out of her crossbody bag. She handed the money to the teenager behind the counter, then turned to Joe. “What are you going to play with?”
“My driver is over there.” He pointed to one of the stalls where a golf club leaned against a wall next to a white bucket. “I got here a little early to get a few balls in.”
Sophie nodded and followed him to the stall. “I really don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, suddenly feeling nervous. She wasn’t the most athletic person.
“That’s okay. I do.” He flashed her a confident grin, which somehow managed to settle her nerves. “I’ll demonstrate what to do first, then I’ll show you the steps involved.”
She watched, the cracking sound of golf clubs hitting balls surrounding her. Joe lined up in front of the ball, and she listened as he explained everything he was doing.
“When you’re ready to hit the ball, you bring your club back while bending your elbows.” He drew his arms back and then connected with the golf ball, hitting it high and far until she couldn’t see it anymore.
“Wow,” she said, forgetting that she was supposed to be disinterested in the activity. She moved closer to him. “How far did it go?”
“Almost three hundred yards.” He looked pleased.
“Is that good?”
“Decent enough.” He turned to her. “Are you ready to try?”
She shook her head, her nerves popping up again. “I don’t think I’ll be good at this.”
Joe’s expression was encouraging. “You won’t know unless you try.” He motioned for her to stand in front of him as he stepped back from the tee. He gave her verbal instructions on how to grip the club, how to stand, how to place the club next to the ball, and then how to bring the club back before striking the ball. “Time to give it a shot,” he said, moving away from her.
Sophie tried to integrate all the steps, but her mind and body wouldn’t cooperate, and she ended up hitting the ball barely a few feet.
“Hey, that’s not bad,” he said.
She turned to him and smirked. “We both know it was bad.”
“All right, so it wasn’t good.” He approached. “But it wasn’t bad. You made contact with the ball, which is half the battle.” He put another ball on the tee and stepped back again.
Again she tried to remember everything he’d said, but when she missed the ball twice, he moved to stand behind her.
“You’re overthinking it,” he said.
“Of course I am,” she mumbled. When didn’t she overthink things?
“Try to relax.”
She stiffened. “I am relaxed.” She felt him move closer to her, and the tickling in her stomach started up again.
“It might be better if I show you,” he said, his voice close to her ear. He was only a few inches taller than she was, and his chin hovered over her shoulder. “Is it okay if I do this?”
When his arms circled around her and his hands covered hers as she held the golf club, she could barely manage to nod. He smelled wonderful, like fresh soap and a light, woodsy-scented cologne. Nothing like the overpowering scent Landon must have bathed in before he picked her up.
“You want to draw the club back like this.” He gently coaxed her arms into a swinging motion. After doing that a few times, he let go of her hands and stepped back. “Do you think you have it?”
She had something, that was for sure. She couldn’t breathe, and once again her mouth turned to cotton. She was tempted to ask him to give her one—or twenty—more personal demonstrations. Whatever happened to hitting a couple balls and hightailing it back home? She couldn’t deny the pleasant feeling coursing through her, or her surprise that she had such a strong reaction to Joe.
Before she could overanalyze all that, she swung and hit the golf ball. This time it went a decent distance, and she was thrilled. She spun around and looked at Joe, grinning. “How was that?”