Chapter 2
Chapter two
Rory
“You realize it’s going to be twenty-six degrees here tonight, right?
” I line up my putt on the rug in Leah’s family room, eyeing the pint glass on its side serving as our hole.
A decorated Christmas tree stands in the corner with twinkling lights, and a handful of wrapped presents are already nestled underneath.
Six days early. “Meanwhile, it’s a perfect seventy-two back home. ”
“Home’s wherever Leah is.” Hays takes a swig of his beer, a dopey newlywed grin plastered across his face.
“If she wants to spend the holidays in Starlight Bay before we hit the road for the season, I’m certainly not saying no.
Plus, I’ve finally mastered how to make a fire that lasts longer than five minutes.
” He gestures toward the fireplace, where flames lick over the logs stacked inside.
I shake my head and refocus on my shot. After a practice stroke, I tap the ball. It rolls straight, but stops short of the glass.
“Speaking of the season,” Hays continues, crouching to line up his shot, checking angles as if he’s on the 18th at Pebble Beach. “I was thinking about talking to McKenna about recovery support.”
I nod, only half listening as he mentions his sports nutritionist. I’m too busy wondering whether Tabitha’s bookstore stays open late this time of year. Maybe, I could casually swing by tomorrow after Hays and I wrap up our planning meeting, make it seem like a coincidence.
I could act as if I’m there to browse for a Christmas present for my niece, Sophie, and feign surprise when I run into Tabitha, pretending I’d forgotten she owns the place.
It’s my best option to see her because I sure as hell can’t ask Hays or Leah how to contact her.
That would open a can of worms I’m not anywhere close to ready to unleash.
But I’m craving round two with that woman like she’s a glass of ice cold water after a day in the desert. Especially now that I’m back in the same zip code where round one blew my mind.
“Rory?” I blink to refocus on Hays, who’s studying me with raised eyebrows. “I asked what you thought about talking to McKenna.”
“Right. Yeah, good idea.” I take another pull of my beer, regretting for the hundredth time I didn’t get Tabitha’s number before I left town after the wedding.
Regretting not stopping by to see her that day before my flight departed.
Even though the gorgeous brunette had slipped out of my bed and out of my hotel room before dawn.
And despite the fact we’d agreed to one night with no strings attached.
I haven’t been able to shake the memories. Or get the thought of her out of my system. Not a single day has passed that I haven’t reminisced about the way she felt underneath me, the sounds she made, how she laughed when I—
I shake off the train of thought. This is exactly why I need round two. One more night to break the spell she cast.
I’ve never had trouble walking away before her. I’ve never given a woman a second thought once I left town. Tabitha caught me off guard. But I’m ready for her this time.
“The GM at Starlight Bay Country Club mentioned they’re looking for a head pro,” Hays says, taking a practice stroke. “Old one finally retired, and he asked if I knew anyone. Thought of you immediately.”
I straighten, the comment snapping me back to the present. “Are you firing me?”
Hays barks out a laugh. “Hell no. But it’s a great position at a world-class course. And you’ve got the skills for it—course management, strategy, patience, teaching experience.” He shrugs. “Just thought I’d mention it.”
My brain scrambles to process this. A golf pro job. Here. In Starlight Bay. The same town where—
“Your shot.” Hays gestures toward the ball.
I clear my throat. Right. The game.
“What’s the score?” I ask, rolling my shoulders.
Hays cocks a brow, the stupid tip of his lips making me regret the rookie mistake. He doesn’t hide the grin that widens behind his beer.
I keep score in my sleep. It’s my job. I’ve had a running tally ticking every time we’ve played anything. And definitely for every round of golf over the last fifteen years.
“You’re down by one,” he drawls, clearly amused. “And remember, a Snickers bar with almonds when I win.”
I roll my eyes at the reminder of the same stakes we’ve played for since we were nine and had to count our change at the corner store to buy the candy bars. “Game’s not over yet.”
He chuckles. “Might as well be, considering how distracted you are.”
It grates how right he is. Between my thoughts about Tabitha and now Hays mentioning the golf pro position, I’m off my game.
I grit my teeth and crouch behind the ball, focusing on the glass. It’s an easy shot, one I’ve made a hundred times in a hundred different hotel rooms over the years. I stand and line up the shot. Just a gentle tap, let it roll straight and—
The sound of the front door opening and laughter filling the air interrupts my concentration. Warm, genuine, with that slight rasp that’s haunted my dreams for months.
Tabitha.
My hand jerks, and when the club connects, the ball veers wide, missing the glass by a good four inches.
“Well, well.” Hays doesn’t even try to hide the knowing smirk that spreads across his face as his gaze flits toward the kitchen. “Not like you to choke like that.”
“You didn’t tell me she was coming to dinner,” I mutter, my knuckles turning white.
“Ladies!” Hays calls toward the kitchen, his grin widening. “Perfect timing. Rory just handed me the win.”
“Did he now?” And suddenly, there she is, a vision appearing in the doorway. Even more beautiful than I remembered. Dark hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and she has that same confident smile that made me lose my mind at the wedding.
Instead of the mint-green bridesmaid gown that spent the night crumpled on my hotel room floor, she’s wearing skinny jeans and a cream-colored sweater that hugs every curve. And when her chocolate-brown eyes meet mine, a zip of electricity shoots through my chest.
“Hey, Rory.” Her voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of heat. The slightest hint of desire gives me hope she’s thought about that night, too.
When I don’t answer right away, my brain still processing the sight of her, she glances at Hays, who’s more than happy to rub salt in my wound.
“Rory here just lost his focus at a crucial moment,” Hays says, clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s…very unlike him.”
Her gaze finds mine again, a challenge there. A spark in those rich dark eyes that makes my pulse kick up. “Is that so?”
She’s onto me, but one thing’s for sure, round two definitely needs to happen.
***
Twenty minutes later, we’re seated around Leah’s dining room table as Hays drones on about his strategy for the season and I covertly study the way Tabitha’s fingers wrap around the stem of her wineglass. Outside, snow falls thick and fast, the flakes visible in the lamppost’s glow on the corner.
“This is incredible, Leah,” Tabitha says, gesturing at the table laden with platters of food. “You really went all out.”
“Had to make it special.” Leah emphasizes the word special and shoots Tabitha a pointed look I can’t read.
“The key is staying patient early in the year,” Hays says, unfolding his napkin. “Finding your stride and—”
“Should we be worried about that?” I interrupt, nodding toward the window which rattles as a particularly powerful gust howls past.
“It’s fine,” Leah assures me. “We’re used to winter storms around here.”
“If you say so,” I reply, grateful that Hays offered to chauffeur me around in his four-wheel-drive SUV during my visit.
“I’d be more worried about surviving a hundred and fifteen degree day in the desert,” Tabitha says.
“It’s a dry heat.”
She laughs, and it’s the same playful sound that threw off my putting earlier. “When it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk…”
“Okay, enough golf talk and weather debates,” Leah announces. “Rory, what are your plans for the holidays? Please tell me you’re not spending Christmas by yourself in some hotel.”
Hays snorts. “His idea of the perfect holiday is a workout followed by a day alone with no one bothering him.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, though the description isn’t too far off base when I don’t head to Texas to visit my sister and her family. “I have holiday traditions.”
“Such as?” Tabitha raises an eyebrow.
“Die Hard. Every Christmas Eve.”
The women exchange a look of pure disbelief.
“That’s not a holiday tradition,” Tabitha shoots back, shaking her head. “It’s—”
“A Christmas movie,” I counter, enjoying the spark in her eyes.
“It’s an action movie that happens to take place at Christmas.”
I can’t help but grin at her fierce conviction.
“What about you?” I ask, reaching for my beer. Under the table, my knee bumps against hers as I shift in my chair, and she doesn’t pull away. “Let me guess—caroling, cookie exchanges, other old-fashioned small town holiday excitement?”
“Actually, yes.” She doesn’t back down even as color rises in her cheeks. “The tree lighting ceremony, Storytime with Santa, Christmas morning with Aunt Mae…” She lists off her traditions with obvious affection.
“Don’t forget the annual Christmas Market,” Leah adds.
“Sounds exhausting.” The words escape me before I can help it.
Tabitha’s eyebrow lifts. “Sometimes, it’s nice to stay in and enjoy a quiet night at home this time of year, too.”
The words land like an invitation wrapped in casual observation. My grip tightens on my beer as she holds my gaze, nothing subtle about the promise in those dark eyes.
Staying in. At her place. With her.
Relief mixes with want. Nothing complicated. Just her and the same simple, physical arrangement we had the night of the wedding.
“That does sound appealing,” I manage, my cock hardening.
Hays clears his throat. “Another drink, anyone?”
But neither Tabitha nor I look away from each other, the air between us crackling.
“Actually,” Leah says, pushing back her chair and shooting her husband a meaningful look I catch sight of out of the corner of my eye. “Hays, why don’t you help me with dessert? In the kitchen,” she adds pointedly.
“But we just—” Hays starts then catches his wife’s expression. “Right. Dessert.” He follows suit, standing then glancing between Tabitha and me.
As our friends disappear into the kitchen, the dining room falls silent except for the soft clink of Tabitha setting down her wineglass. She says nothing, just looks at me with those dark eyes that have haunted my dreams for months.
“Hays is supposed to give me a ride over to the hotel after dinner,” I state matter-of-factly, holding her gaze, confident she’ll catch my drift.
Her lower lip tucks between her teeth as she studies me for a minute, her head falling to one side. It’s the longest thirty seconds of silence in my life.
“It’s not on my way home, but I’d be happy to give you a lift,” she finally says.