10. Beau #3
But with the way Shelby is looking at him right now, I’m scared for him. Because she’s not giving him a normal reporter scowl. This is a full-on death glare.
Holy shit. What did Mike do to her? Because the only person she looks at like that…is me.
“Shelby, this is your first tournament since your rotator cuff surgery, and even before then, you hadn’t played much. How has the recovery been?”
I glance out of the corner of my eye to Shelby, who’s actively squirming in her seat. Her eyes are getting narrower by the second. And her face? It’s not red from a blush anymore. No. This is pure hatred.
What did he do to her? Was it his question? That can’t be it. She might hate interviews, but she had to know her surgery was going to come up. And he didn’t ask anything out of line. But her fists are flexing on her lap and her breathing is picking up. Fuck.
How do I help her? Step in and soothe over whatever this is. And can I even do that? This is her injury. Her recovery. Her question.
And clearly, her battle. Whatever that may be.
“Recovery has been slow,” she says as evenly as she can. “As many know, I was supposed to come back last year. I wasn’t ready. I’m glad I took the extra time off to get fully healed so I could be ready to go for this year.”
“Are you ready?”
The two lock eyes, and that’s when I see it. That look. A hint of cockiness in his. Like he knows a secret. The fire in hers that looks like she wants to shove her putter up his ass. The sudden feeling like I’m interrupting something.
Oh…. Okay, then. They’ve seen each other naked. A lot.
Except, wait…I thought he was married. No, I know he is. He brought his wife to the tournament in Hawaii last year.
Oh fuck…
“Yes. I’m ready.”
Oh, double fuck. We’re back to short-answer Shelby. I’m immediately on edge, because I have a feeling this has the potential to get messy.
“Last question. How has it been since you moved from Vegas to start training with Chad Ashcroft? Has he been everything you wanted?”
The question isn’t what makes me sit up a little straighter. It’s a normal-ish question. But it’s the way Michael enunciated his words. Something about the cadence. And that last part of the question? That was some weird-ass wording.
Now I know there’s a story between them. The question is, is it as bad as my mind is making me think it is?
“Everything is fine. Thanks for your concern.”
And we have a triple fuck situation, friends. Sarcastic Shelby has entered the chat. The Shelby many in this golf world have called a bitch a time or ten. Which means, it’s time for us to get the triple fuck out of here.
“Are you settling into Nashville well? Taking in the country music scene?”
I put my hand on her arm to try and get her to end the questioning, but I’m not quick enough.
“I am. Great atmosphere. I bet your wife would really like it. You should take her sometime.”
“Thanks everyone! We gotta go!” I shout as I pop out of my chair and pull Shelby’s away from the table. “See you on the course this week!”
My eyes bounce back and forth between Michael and Shelby as she slowly stands from her seat. I take her elbow in my hand, hoping to gently remind her that we need to leave, but she doesn’t take her eyes off of him. It’s like she’s targeting her prey for the kill.
And honestly? I’ve seen a pissed off Shelby. My money’s on her any day of the week.
“Let go of me!” she shouts once we get outside, ripping her elbow from my hold. “Why did you do that?”
“Oh, I don’t know… Save you from murdering a man in front of witnesses?”
Her face is beet red and her breathing is as heavy as I’ve ever seen it. “I didn’t need you to drag me out of there. You had no right. Then again, you are the one who loves to play the hero, so it shouldn’t surprise me.”
“Oh, but you did,” I say, not wanting to get into why she thinks I need to play hero. “If I wouldn’t have ended that press conference, I’m pretty sure the next move was going to be you jumping over the table and strangling poor Mikey with his press credentials.”
She rolls her eyes like that’s the most ridiculous possibility she’s ever heard. “I wouldn’t have strangled him…”
The pause in her tone leads me to believe there are other acts of violence she would do. But I’m a smart enough man to not ask her for specifics. I need plausible deniability if she goes through with it.
“What did he do to you?”
I know it’s something, and I have my guesses, but I need to hear the words from her mouth.
Just as Shelby begins to say something, she’s interrupted by a voice I used to find sexy. Right now, it sounds like nails on a chalkboard.
“Hey, Beau,” Courtney says, sliding up next to me. “Nice to see you again.”
None of her words are suggestive, but the way she said it, combined with how she’s looking at me right now, you’d have to be blind to not see her subliminal message.
And it seems as if Shelby isn’t blind.
“Shelby! Wait! Come back!” I yell as she storms off. I know my words aren’t going to do any good. Shelby isn’t going to wait. Or come back.
Two steps forward, eighteen pissed off steps back. And if that isn’t the theme of the saga between myself and Shelby LeBlanc, I don’t know what is.