Chapter 25
Genevieve
Killing the engine, I’m struck by the sheer number of people running around with clipboards. It never occurred to me how many moving parts this kind of competition needs just to run smoothly.
Tents line the course and golf carts weave between them.
Luke said J.B. would come to get me, give me guest credentials, and then take me over to the green. From there, we’d be able to follow along for the remaining holes of the tournament.
Sliding my hands down my dress, I can’t help but wonder if this was the best outfit choice, and yet, with the temperature in the high nineties, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable wearing shorts or long pants.
My phone buzzes, and I check to see if it’s J.B.
Kit
The boys are out!
Are you on the green yet?
Gen
Are you learning about golf?
Kit
HA! No. You and Beau can be the sports experts.
On the green is easy.
It reminds me of St. Patty’s Day.
Rolling my eyes, the irony that my sister is married to a Rugby player and doesn't know a single thing, or really care to know, about any sport isn’t lost on me.
Gen
Oh geez.
Since Beau’s sleeping, it’s safe to say you’re not paying attention to where Luke’s at?
Kit
The tournaments on the television.
And someone is swinging.
Could be Luke…
Pinching the bridge of my nose, my cheeks pull up. She’s useless to me right now.
Kit
Sorry. All the players look the same.
Gen
Teasing Kit about will never get old, but in this case, she’s not wrong
All the golfers look the same.
Black, blue, or khaki pants, some type of polo shirt, and a baseball cap. Unless you’re paying attention to the announcer, you have no clue who is stepping up to the tee.
My sister gets a pass for the moment.
A knock on the window startles me, but a quick look shows J.B. waving, a grin on his face.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, as I slip out of the car. “Here, put this pass around your neck. Did you have any trouble finding it?”
Shaking my head, I slide on the lanyard.
J.B’s strides are long, two of mine, and it takes everything for me to keep up with him as he leads me past the players’ family tents to the golf cart sitting in front.
“Luke just finished up the 9th hole and is on his way to the 10th. We’ll get you there first and settled in before he tees off. ”
I nod, gripping the handle next to my seat. “How’s he doing?”
“Amazing. He’s ahead of the second-place player by eight strokes, and is playing like a man on fire.”
The tightness around my ribs eases. “Are you sure my being here is a good idea? I don’t want to distract—”
“Gen, between you and Bogey, Luke’s a different person. When I suggested a therapy pet, I only hoped he’d be able to play relaxed and confidently again. Enjoy the game. But what I’ve been witnessing is beyond my wildest expectations.”
“That didn’t answer my question about me being a distraction.” I chuckle.
J.B. glances at me, eyes narrowed, and I grip the handle tighter. “I’m pretty sure there’s nothing that can distract him.”
Exhaling just as we make it to the tenth hole, J.B. pulls the cart off the path behind the tee box, parking next to a row of other carts in the designated pull-off area. “Here we are. This is a good sightline to the tee and the green.”
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he starts typing. “Luke’s up in a few minutes and on his way here. Let’s get you a good spot behind the ropes.”
The crowd shifts as some follow the previous golfer, while new people make their way to the observation area for Luke. Soft murmurs and polite, scattered applause drift through the air. The exact opposite of other sporting events I’ve been to. The quiet tightens the knot in my stomach.
“Have you ever been to a golf tournament before?” J.B. asks, waving to the man to the left of us before lifting a rope for me to step under.
“First time. I rarely watch golf and usually just catch glimpses on T.V.”
Nodding, he steps under the rope beside me.
The tee-off area is bigger than I thought it would be, and we’re closer to where Luke will be than I thought.
Leaning in and pointing to what looks like the tee-off area, I ask. “Luke’s going to be right there?”
“Yup,” J.B. says as he nods, and gives a brief wave to an older man who looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place how I might know him.
His narrowed brown gaze inspects me before his lips flatten. He breaks eye contact as he heads to the front of the rope about twenty feet from us.
“Is that Luke’s dad?” I ask J.B. softly, jutting my chin in the man’s direction.
“Yes. Was it the overly warm greeting between us that gave it away?”
My lips twitch, but before I can respond, Luke and his caddie walk over to the tee.
Luke’s eyes scan the crowd, but once his gaze finds mine, the corner of his mouth curls up, and he tips his hat in my direction. The knot loosens, and I nod in return.
The people standing around me, watching Luke, witnessed his greeting and are now focused on me. Murmurs that sound like ‘It’s her’ float around me. I keep my focus on Luke as he chats with his caddie and grabs the driver that’s handed to him.
He immediately tunes into the shot that’s in front of him, and the crowd quiets down.
The air suddenly feels electric as all eyes focus on Luke.
His shoulders are relaxed, his attention focused on the flag that’s signifying the place he wants the ball to land as close as possible.
His caddie whispers something, and Luke gives him a quick nod.
He steps up near the tee and does a few practice swings before placing the ball on the tee peg. His feet take a few steps before he settles into position.
Arms loosely at his side, eyes focused on the ball, the rest of his body looks like a cat ready to pounce on its prey. Relaxed, yet prepared.
And then he swings.
A loud ‘thwack’ sounds through the air. Applause erupts as Luke and his caddie shake hands before heading down the fairway to where his ball is waiting on the short grass.
We watch from where we are as Luke gets the ball in on the next stroke.
“Another birdie,” J.B. cheers. “What a day he’s having.”
“Excuse me,” a male voice says coming from behind me, just as J.B. nudges my arm.
“Do you want anything to drink before we head over to Hole 11?”
“I’m good.” Following J.B. to the cart, I feel a weight on my back. Glancing over my shoulder, my gaze slams into narrowed brown eyes, and my stomach flips.
“You sure?” J.B.’s hand lands on my forearm, and I nod, turning to face him. “Okay. Let’s start heading over.”
“Do we have to rush this time?”
J.B’s chortle echoes, “Did I drive too fast?”
“Just a smidge.” I indicate about an inch with my pointer and thumb.
“Sure. But then don’t complain when you don’t get the full experience.”
“I thought we were here to watch Luke golf?” I question, as I slide into the golf cart, only to have J.B. snort.
“That’s just one part of the golf experience.”
J.B. kept his promise, and the rides to the other four holes have been less anxiety-inducing.
Luke’s performance at the previous three holes was similar to that of hole ten, and he’s still holding a strong lead.
“This one can be tricky.” J.B. leans over and says softly, raising his arm out in front of me, drawing a line for me to observe which part he’s referring to. “See how it looks straight, but to the left of the hole, there’s a slight turn?”
The short green grass is right next to a sandpit, and I can clearly see what he’s talking about. “Do you think he’ll struggle?”
He shrugs. “Depends on if the wind picks up.”
The way my dress is clinging to my back says the odds of that are slim, but not impossible. I’d hate for it to affect Luke’s shot, but I would do anything for one strong breeze to come my way. I’m also wishing that I had brought a hat, if the heat on my nose is any indication.
Sometimes I forget the sun, and my skin isn’t on the best terms with it.
“I’ll be right back,” J.B. says before heading under the rope at the viewing area and waiting for Luke to walk up.
“You might not think it right now,” a gruff voice says, directly next to my ear. “But you’re going to be the reason he fails.”
My head snaps over my shoulder and slams into hard brown eyes. White-hot heat moves through me, not shame but anger.
Anger that this person has so much doubt in the man his son has become.
Anger that he thinks so little of the skills he helped Luke acquire.
“It’s sad that you have so little confidence in the man you helped get where he is today.”
His eyes flare, and his lips flatten, but I don’t look away. “You know nothing about me,” he growls.
A heavy weight settles on my cheek, and I turn in their direction. Luke’s watching me, his mouth, so similar to his father's, is drawn in the same tight line. Giving him an extra bright smile, I wave and give him a thumbs up.
“This isn’t the time to talk.” I clench my jaw and turn back to the tee box. “Luke is getting ready to tee off.”
Luke’s dad’s shoulders pull back, and his eyes shoot to his sons. Looking in his direction, I see what he sees.
His son was watching us.
“Luke Nichols” rings out over a speaker.
Exhaling, I steady myself, for Luke.
When I finally catch Luke’s gaze, my cheeks pull up. Luke lifts the brim of his hat before lowering it.
Luke gives me the slightest nod and a glance at his dad before taking the driver from his caddie.
When he walks to the tee box, the smile I put on for him wavers and then completely falls away.