4. LARISSA
CHAPTER 4
LARISSA
My hands tremble as I roll to a stop on number seventeen, working my way back to the first hole. I have half a mind to tell Danny I’m sick and ask Matilda to take over the beverage cart. The stomach bug is going around, so it wouldn’t be a wildly unbelievable excuse.
But my mama didn’t raise any cowards, and I’m not going to let Dr. Drake, of all people, turn me into one now.
I plaster on a smile and unload a few cokes, then coast down the path to my next customers.
By the time I reach the thirteenth hole, the sun’s high and bright, and I’ve broken into a sweat. I pause at the tent set up for a friendly competition of “Beat the Pro,” where Spence awaits his next victim. He’s one of the best golf pros here.
I climb out of the cart and skip toward the water jug on the table, where a large orange sign with a turkey holding a golf club decorates the front. As I pour myself a cup of water, I ask Spence, “Anyone beat the pro yet?”
“Of course not. What kind of question is that?” He tilts his head, and amusement swims in his deep blue eyes.
Will Wyatt be the first?
I hate that he’s my first thought. It must be the unexpected head spin from seeing him again, right? That’s all. Once he’s gone and back on his rampage to dominate the golf world, I won’t give him a second thought.
I gulp down the water like it’s a tequila shot as more beads of sweat drip down my back. I should’ve customized a freaking tank top for today. I would have too, had management not required us to wear shirts with the resort’s logo. The vest seemed like a good idea since the sleeve reads Magnolia Point Resort & Club.
I finish another cup of water and fan myself. “It’s hot today.”
“That’s why I brought a cold sweet tea.” A woman with dark waves flowing over her shoulders sashays toward us with a Styrofoam cup in her hand—Madison Leigh, Spence’s better half. “I would’ve brought a second had I known you were out here.” She gives me an apologetic smile.
“You can have it,” Spence offers. “All I need is a sweet kiss.”
Madison rolls her eyes, but she obliges and gives him a quick peck. Knowing these two lovebirds, I imagine they would’ve smooched a lot harder had I not been standing here as a witness.
“It’s all yours, but thank you.” As I wave goodbye and wish Spence good luck on his streak, my gut twists with envy.
They’re so in love.
I’ve only ever felt that kind of tingling, giddy, head-over-heels kind of love once in my life—with Wyatt. It was the life-shattering, reckless sort of romance that only teenagers experience. Every day felt like the world spun on a wheel of fortune, and we never knew where we’d land.
It was a rush just riding the waves of possibilities.
Halfway through my route, a group of golfers cheer and high-five each other on a green—it must’ve been quite a putt to cause such a celebration.
The camaraderie is one of the reasons I always loved joining Wyatt on the course. There’s a special sense of community, with their good-natured bets and healthy competition, followed by a round of drinks and laughs at the bar.
I was never a particularly skilled golfer myself, but I always enjoyed the experience of it all.
I once believed Wyatt and I shared the sentiment, but then things changed.
“Why don’t you want me to come with you anymore? I thought I was your lucky charm.” I giggle and lean into his side, wrapping my arm around his waist.
“Of course, you are,” Wyatt says, but his posture remains stiff. “It’s not that I don’t want you to come to the course with me ever again. I just need to focus the next few weeks to prepare for state.”
His reasoning is perfectly logical, but an uneasy feeling settles in the pit of my stomach when he pulls away.
“I keep hooking my driver to the left, and I have several more sessions with my instructor to work on it. I can’t have you distracting me.” He clamps his mouth shut, and his eyes widen.
I’m a distraction. It’s what his father calls me, but Wyatt has never agreed. Not until now.
“That’s not… I didn’t mean… It’s just—” He rams his hand through his wavy hair and blows out a rough exhale.
Pulling even farther away, I wave him off and force a laugh. “I get it. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Except I don’t see or hear from him for a week.
That afternoon was the first time Wyatt had agreed with his father and called me a distraction, as if I’d hinder his success instead of nurture it.
The sting feels fresh now as I make a beeline for the bar for a break. Nature calls, and I need a little AC.
Inside, Danny busies himself with a few drinks for customers seated at the bar. Matilda wipes her brow with the back of her hand as she and two other servers scurry through the room, winding through the tables like speedy cars at an unmarked intersection.
With the upcoming holiday, more people are in town to visit family, or to escape their own hometowns. It’s why Matilda and I are here today—to pick up the slack. She works full-time at The Tipsy Tap, which is where I first met her.
I rush toward the restroom and out of the way, but as I return, I bump into one of the women from the Ladies’ League. It’s the same one who made a joke about wanting a custom vest like mine.
“I’m so glad I’m running into you again.” She tosses her arm around my shoulders and walks with me down the hall, the vodka on her breath almost as strong as her perfume. She and her friends must’ve hit the Bloody Marys pretty hard at breakfast. “I was serious about the vest earlier.”
“Oh?”
“The name’s Gladys Covington.” She reaches into her bright purple handbag and pulls out a card. “Here’s my number. Give me a call so we can set up the details.”
“Sure thing,” I chirp, suddenly lighter on my feet as the possibility of making something for her ignites a fire inside me.
“Toodle-oo,” she sings and backtracks toward the restrooms again.
I finger the card she gave me, and scrolled across it in shiny letters and numbers are her name, contact information, and title—senior new accounts representative at a local bank.
Tucking it into my trusty pocket, I practically dance toward the bar, but I about twist my freaking ankle when my eyes land on Wyatt.
He accepts a wrapped sandwich from Danny, and I can’t help but notice how well his blue pants stretch across the terrain of muscle in his quads and glutes. It’s downright delicious.
His polo is perfectly tucked into them too, as if he just got dressed. I’d think he’d get at least a little rumpled from the last couple of hours playing, but he’s still put together and sharp.
Like nothing, and no one, can touch him.
He turns, and my lips part. My heart rattles like there’s an earthquake in my chest.
But he barely spares me a glance before whirling around and shoving the door open.
The exchange was brief, but it was enough to note the animosity in his eyes. I’ve never seen such a look in them, and being on the receiving end of it now only pisses me off.
I’ve been on a damn roller coaster of emotions today, and I’m so ready to get off this stupid ride. It’s only been a few hours of having Wyatt in my life again, and I’m already sick of him and his sour attitude.
I’m not a fan of my traitorous heart racing around him, either.