Chapter 4
4
LIP OUT
Mitch
“Come with me.”
Mitch opened his eyes to meet Lana’s intense gaze. Her brown eyes, the shade of a juvenile eagle’s, glittered in the dim light of dawn that peeked in the window of her hotel bedroom. “I just did, not five minutes ago,” he said, knowing full well her meaning for this particular ask.
Lana swatted his bare shoulder in mock exasperation. “Not that.” She sat up, pulling the duvet and tucking it under her armpits to cover her nakedness.
She’d offered the invitation in various ways since their Valentine’s date five nights ago. To the golf courses included in her tour package—the Championship Course in Carnoustie; The King’s in Gleneagles; Balcomie in Crail; Kingsbarns, Castle, and the New Course in St Andrews—every day.
All around Fife in between golf games as her tourist guide.
To her bed, every night.
He’d said yes every time to every invitation. He’d given her no cause to think that he would ever say no to anything she asked.
“Come with me to the US,” she clarified. “Be my official caddie. Help me win again.”
Mitch eased himself slowly into a sitting position against the headboard of the massive bed. His heart pounded with the desire to say yes right away. But he couldn’t, and telling her no would send him into a depression. So he stalled. “What’ll happen to your present caddie?”
“I have no present caddie. He fired me.” A pout accompanied the words but there was no real sadness or enmity.
“Are you serious?”
Lana raised and dropped her shoulders in a shrug. “It wasn’t acrimonious or anything like that. He said with the new baby, he needs security, so he’s taking an office job that will give him health insurance and all that stuff. I completely understand, but it does leave me in a bind.”
“You have no other candidate?” he stalled.
“I can probably find one quickly if I have to.” She dismissed the question with a wave of her hand. “But I want you. What do you say?”
Sweat dampened Mitch’s temples. He had the urge to jump out of the bed and run home—naked if he had to—rather than share his embarrassing tale. Coward that he was, he prevaricated. “I want you too.”
Eyes narrowed and full lips pressed together, Lana peered at him. “You’re saying no.” She jumped off the bed, pulling the sheet after her.
“I’m not … not …” Mitch trailed off. He was, in fact, saying no. Leaping down from the other side, he hastened to don his boxer shorts and t-shirt. This conversation couldn’t be held with any dignity while he was naked.
Lana apparently had the same thought because when he faced her, she was wearing the hotel robe, standing with arms crossed over her chest. Even frowning and barefoot, she looked magnificent.
Time to man up and tell her the truth. He strode to her, stopping two feet away. Close enough to convey his sincerity, far enough not to crowd her. “I don’t have a passport.” Fecking A. What a spineless feartie.
Her face cleared, arms falling to her sides, posture now relaxed. “That’s okay. It’s only the nineteenth. I don’t have a tournament until the twenty-first of March. We have a month. How long will it take you to get one?”
“Five to ten weeks.” Mitch had done the research, just not the deed. He didn’t want to jinx it.
“Oh. That’s longer than I thought.” She walked to the side of the bed and sat, shoulders hunched in disappointment.
He followed, unable to stay away. The coming months without her would feel interminable. He would hoard whatever he could.
“It’s fine. I can find a temporary caddie while you wait. If you apply tomorrow, you can make it to the first major in Texas in April.” Her voice rose in excitement.
Mitch hated to burst her bubble, but he had to do it. Just rip off the bandage, though it would leave a gaping wound. “Lan, I can’t leave Scotland until I’m twenty-five.”
Her mouth fell open. Eyes blinking rapidly, she asked. “What do you mean? Why?”
“My da died when he was twenty-four.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. He died when you were a baby?”
Mitch nodded. “When I was two. No illness. Just died in his sleep.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat. He missed his da, even though he’d never known the man. But there wasn’t time to dwell on that loss now. He had more explaining to do. “Young Tom Morris—Old Tom’s son—also died when he was twenty-four. He died in his sleep too.” Official cause of death was pulmonary hemorrhage, but many believed, including his mum, that it was because of a broken heart from the demise of his wife and son at childbirth.
Eyes wide, Lana didn’t speak for a full minute. Probably processing the non sequitur.
“I don’t follow. Is it a …” She paused, grasping for the proper words. “Is it a family curse? Men in your family dying at twenty-four? I thought you said you’re not related to the Morrises. And those are only two examples.”
“Two are enough for my mum to fear that it’ll happen to me too. That I’ll die before my twenty-fifth birthday. She made me promise not to leave the UK. If something were to happen to me, she wanted to be close by.” He held out both hands, reaching for Lana’s. His heart leaped in hope when she clasped them with no hesitation. “Mum never remarried after Da died. She sacrificed a lot to raise me and … and made sure I have an education and livelihood.” His voice cracked, a signal of oncoming tears, but he pushed on. “We’re a unit, my mum and me. This is the singular thing she ever asked of me. I canna abandon her now.”
Tears welled in Lana’s eyes. “Especially not when she’s in poor health.” Her hands gripped his tight. “Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” He wiped the tears from her face with his thumbs.
She sniffled. “For being a selfish brat. This whole week I kept you to myself. What if your mom needed you?”
“She didn’t. If she did, I would have told you and you would have understood and let me go to her. Because you are unselfish and the opposite of a brat.” He lifted her chin to look her in the eye. “This has been the best week of my life, having you here. Would that I could, I’d go with you wherever you want me to.”
Lana raised her hand to cup his cheek. “I came here to find my game. I found it and so much more. I found you. It’s going to suck leaving without you.”
“We will stay in touch, right? Everyday.” Mitch moved his head to kiss her palm. “And when you return, I’ll be here, waiting.”
“You promise?”
“Better than that. I pledge to you when you ask me again, the answer will be yes.”
Her face brightened, glowed as dazzling as the morning sun that had started to climb on the horizon. He pressed his lips to hers, sealing his pledge with a tender kiss. She responded sweetly, accepting his caresses with an eagerness that enflamed him. Before he could deepen their intimacies, she reared back.
“When do you turn twenty-five?”
He grinned. “Championship Sunday of the Women’s Open.”