“Well done.” He beamed. “You might be hitting them farther than me by the time we’re finished.”
Sophie’s gaze drifted to his impressive biceps again. Not when you have those guns.
This time he noticed she was looking at him, which made him grin wider.
Cheeks flaming, she grabbed another ball from the bucket, almost knocking it over, and quickly set it on the tee. Without hesitating, she swung at the ball . . . and missed.
“Want me to show you how to hit it again?” he asked.
She glanced at him, irritated at the teasing tone of his voice, not to mention his stance—arms crossed over his broad chest, emphasizing those biceps. Knowing he was doing that on purpose, she shook her head.
“I’m fine.” She grabbed another ball, and this time she went through the paces before hitting it. There. She’d hit a few balls. Now it was time to go home, although she had to admit she was having fun. What wasn’t fun was this strange attraction she was experiencing, and the sooner she left, the better.
“How about I get us some drinks?” Joe asked, sticking his golf glove into the back pocket of his pants. “Do you like lemonade?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Great. I’ll be right back.”
She watched him walk away and noticed that he looked just as good from the back as he did from the front. Ugh. She didn’t need to be noticing anything about him. But she couldn’t just leave, not when he was nice enough to get her a drink.
Grabbing another ball, she figured she might as well hit one more while he was gone. Then she would thank him for the lemonade and the golf lesson and leave. And this time she would keep her word.
* * *
“Who’s the pretty lady?”
Joe frowned. He should have known Claude, the owner of the golf range who was also running concessions right now, would comment on Joe bringing a woman with him. He’d never brought one before.
“A friend,” he said, glancing at Sophie as she hit another ball off the tee. She was actually pretty good for her first time driving. He wasn’t really paying attention to her golf form, though. It was her form he couldn’t stop noticing, especially after he’d been so close to her. It had taken every ounce of willpower he had to step away from her.
Claude raised one bushy gray eyebrow. “A friend, hmm?”
“Yeah.”
“What can I get you two?”
“Two lemonades, along with an order of mind your own business.” Joe intended the words in jest, but he didn’t want the old man asking any more questions.
Raising his hands, Claude stepped back from the counter. “You’re a mite touchy for just a friend,” he said in his slow Southern drawl. Before Joe could respond, the old man snuck off to make the lemonades.
As he waited, Joe turned and watched Sophie again, and for the first time since he’d seen her tonight, he wondered about her date with Landon. He’d wondered about it plenty during the day, but once she stepped out of her car and he saw how pretty she was in her white T-shirt, gray shorts, and white tennis shoes, his focus had been entirely on her. So much so that he was having his worst day on the driving range in a long time. That would normally bother his competitive spirit, but right now he didn’t care.
Claude brought out the lemonades and set them on the counter. When Joe reached for his billfold, the man held up his hand again. “On the house.”
Joe shook his head. “I’ll pay for these.”
“You’re one of my best customers, so the drinks are on me today. I’m just glad you didn’t order beer.”
“We live in a dry county.”
“Exactly.” Claude grinned and pushed the drinks toward him. “Don’t keep your friend waitin’.”
“Thanks.” Joe took the drinks and hurried back to the range, in as much of a hurry to get back to Sophie as he was to get away from Claude’s good-natured ribbing. Sophie had just finished hitting a drive that shanked left when he arrived at their stall.
“Ugh,” she said. “I’m getting worse.”
Joe handed her a lemonade. “That happens sometimes, especially when you’re not used to an activity. I think you’re doing great.”
She looked at him from beneath her lashes. “Thanks,” she said softly, taking the lemonade from him.
He took a swig, the sweet beverage cooling his throat but not his thoughts. Then again, he probably shouldn’t be surprised. Fifteen years was a long time to go without a date. Then he had to remind himself this wasn’t a date. He was making up for being a heel about her and Landon.
“How was your date last night?” he blurted, unable to keep himself from asking the question, even though he had vowed not to bring the jerk into their conversation.
After a pause, she said, “It was okay.” She set the lemonade down on a small table flanked by two chairs, then quickly picked up her club and grabbed a golf ball out of the wire basket.
That was uninformative. Did she mean it was okay in a good way? Or was she just being polite?
When she swung at the ball three times and missed, he placed his lemonade next to hers on the table and walked over to her.
“Relax,” he said, gesturing to her shoulders, which were lifted close to her neck. Apparently he’d struck a nerve, and he wished he’d kept his big mouth shut.
“I am,” she said through gritted teeth, and pulled back and swung again. This time she barely nicked the ball, and it fell off the tee.
“Hey.” He moved closer to her and took the club from her hand, afraid she might start swinging it again. “I’m sorry I asked about you and Landon.”
“It’s all right.” She waved her hand at him and sighed. “To be honest, the date was awful. He’s incredibly boring and likes to talk about himself constantly.”
“What a surprise,” Joe mumbled, trying not to smirk.
“It was a waste of time.” She met his gaze. “You were right, I shouldn’t have gone out with him.”
The breeze from the fan in the corner of the stall lifted a strand of loose hair from her ponytail. He fought the urge to tuck it behind her ear. “I’m sorry,” he said again, meaning it.
She scoffed. “I’m waiting for the ‘I told you so.’”
He shook his head. “I’d never say that to you.” He handed her back her club. “We’ve got five balls left. Would you like to hit the rest?”
After staring at him for a moment, she nodded. “Yes. I would.”
“Good. You can pretend they’re Ferry’s head.”
Sophie smiled, and his knees nearly buckled. Oh boy, he was in trouble here. So much for a friendly outing. At least on his part.
* * *
Sophie had never experienced anything as satisfying as getting out her frustration by driving golf balls. Why haven’t I done this before? But she knew the answer. It was the answer for everything she’d missed out on during the past fifteen years. Work. Work, work, work. For once she hadn’t thought about Petals and Posies since she’d left the shop.
How could she when her attention kept flip-flopping from golf to Joe, focusing mostly on Joe the past twenty minutes. While she had gotten out her frustration over Landon being a bust, Joe had sat there drinking his lemonade and calling out a few pointers that were actually helpful. When she saw that only one ball was left, she grabbed it from the basket and walked over to him.