Chapter 28
Luke
Watching the ball fly through the air, I hold my breath. The last two tee-offs were ugly; this one is looking good, but I’m not counting my chickens before they hatch.
When the ball lands, I exhale.
“That’s more like it, Nichols!” Jared slaps me on the back as the ball lands next to the pin on the green.
Tipping my hat toward the crowd, I start to head down the fairway, but then realize I missed something. Or more accurately, someone.
Gen.
Glancing back, I don’t see her, but I do still see my dad.
“Luke? Is everything okay?”
“I’m looking for Genevieve. Do you see her?” My gaze roams the crowd, looking for a woman with red hair wearing a baby-blue dress. “She was just standing by my father.”
Jared comes and stands next to me, his hand resting against his brow. “Maybe she’s with J.B.?”
“He’s right there,” I say, pointing toward my agent, who’s off to the side talking with someone, no Gen in sight.
“I’m sure she’s fine, but we’re not going to be if we don’t start making our way down the fairway.”
A hollow pang blooms in my chest at the thought of losing Gen again. I’m allowing that to happen even if it means walking away from this tournament.
Because without her, the win is empty.
Our lesson on that first day comes rushing back.
“What are we working on right now?” Gen asks.
“Not chasing.”
“Yes. Something that should be very easy for you.”
My gut twists at the anger in her voice. What was I thinking, asking her to help? This was a mistake. And yet she’s here.
“What we need is for him to give us something to work with,” she continues.
Give us something to work with? Is she talking about the dog or me? “What do you mean?”
“Bogey is a smart boy, and we’re going to wait him out until he does what we want.”
“What do we want?”
Okay, we’re still talking about Bogey…but there’s definitely more to it.
“Him to choose to come to us.”
I chose her, and I need to find her.
Now.
“Jared, can you let the rules official know that I’m withdrawing for personal reasons?”
“Did I hear you correctly?” he asks, blinking. “Did you just say you’re withdrawing?”
“Give me the scorecard and the pencil,” I tell him, holding my hand out. I sign it and give it back to him. “I think you need to give that to him, too.”
“Luke,” his voice is strained. “If you withdraw, you don’t get credit for any of the previous holes. You get a zero.”
“Then that’s what it is.”
He stands there. Staring at me, mouth agape.
“It’s only one tourney, right?” I shrug.
A slow grin spreads across Jared’s face, and he nods before turning toward the official.
“Luke!” My dad calls out, before mouthing, “What are you doing?”
“Something I should’ve done a long time ago.”
My dad’s face turns purple, but he doesn’t say another word. Appearances are everything to him. So this discussion is something he’ll bring up in private, but it won’t change what happens now.
“Luke Nichols is withdrawing for personal reasons.”
Gasps, then low murmurs, come from all the people standing close by.
My dad, lips drawn, pushes the rope and briskly walks toward the designated parking for the carts.
“Theo,” J.B. calls out, placing a hand on his arm. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
My father exhales slowly, and I can tell he wants to rip his arm away from J.B., but his need to keep up appearances comes in handy again.
Now that my dad is out of my hair, I walk down toward the carts.
My stomach drops when I don’t see her. The edges of my vision flicker, pulse hammering, but I force a slow breath and push it down.
Gen wouldn’t just leave without talking to me first.
I’m the runner, she’s the one who waits patiently. She understands why I left like I did the first time around.
She wouldn’t leave me.
My vision returns to normal, and I slowly take in the area, bringing my attention back to the golf carts.
When my eyes land on blue, I sigh in relief, and the corner of my mouth lifts.
Slipping my hands in my pockets, I walk in her direction.
Raising a drink to her mouth, her hand freezes, and her eyes pop open. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the fairway?”
Slowly shaking my head, I step up to her and slide my hand around her waist. “Nope. I had somewhere more important to be.”
Kissing her nose, her eyes narrow. “Yeah. On the fairway, kicking everyone’s butts.”
“I can do that any day of the week, but right now I need a very special person to know that I will always choose her.”
“You remembered that?” She rests her hand on my heart, settling her weight against my arm.
Lifting the brim of my hat, I pin her with my gaze. “You mean do I remember the moment you made it clear that I had to let Bogey choose to come to me? Yes.”
“That’s not what I—”
“I know,” I say, gruffly. “If you hadn’t noticed, I got the message you were clearly sending.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You!” My father growls, pointing at Gen.
J.B. is close behind him and mouths, “Sorry.”
“Luke, I told you she would be a distraction and destroy you. And look at you.” His scathing eyes look me up and down. “You’re proving me right. Again. How could you embarrass me like that?”
Sliding Gen behind me, I turn to face the man who raised me, and yet doesn’t understand me at all.
“I’m sorry. Were you the one who withdrew from the tournament?” I narrow my eyes. “Because I could’ve sworn they said ‘Luke Nichols’.”
“You know that’s not what I—”
“I know exactly what you meant, Dad. This isn’t about you.” I push a finger on his chest. “It’s about me, and has nothing to do with how you look. No one is going to be talking about you.”
The rage in my father's eyes dims, and pain fills them for a brief second before he pulls his shoulders back and glowers at me. “Fine. Ruin your life then.”
With those parting words, he whips around and heads off.
“I’m sorry.” J.B. scrubs his jaw. “I couldn’t keep him away.”
“It’s not your fault, J.B.” I rest a hand on his collarbone. “That was a conversation in the making for years.”
A warm palm slides against mine, and I turn my head to find a pair of soft hazel eyes staring back at me. Wrapping my hand around hers, I bring it to my lips and kiss the back of her hand.
“As much as I love you chasing after me, it wasn’t necessary.”
Shaking my head, ready to protest, her finger presses against my lips. I pull it away. “Yes, it was.”
“It wasn’t because I wasn’t going anywhere except away from the yappy Chihuahua.”
“The yappy what?”
“Oh, this is going to be fun.” J.B. chuckles.
“You're dad.” Gen slides her arms around my waist and rests her chin on my chest, gazing up at me. “He’s like a small dog. All bark and bravado, yapping to scare off anything, or anyone, who threatens what he considers his.”
A howl escapes.
“I left because if I didn’t, I was going to put him in his place. I may still have to do that, if you want.” She flutters her lashes at me, the epitome of innocence. A smile splits my face. “But I didn’t want to do it in front of everyone, nor did I want to worry you.”
“What type of dog is Luke?” J.B. asks, my gaze flying to his, only to have him shrug and look at Genevieve.
She shakes her head and chuckles. “I used to think he was a Rat Terrier, but now I’m not so sure.”
“I deserved that.” My hands cup her face, pressing my lips against hers. “Is it possible to have a do-over?”
“Hmmmm…” She hums. “Maybe.”
Bringing my lips to hers again, I feel her smile against them. “What?”
“Nothing.” She giggles.
“You obviously find something funny.”
“I can’t believe you withdrew from your tournament because you thought I left.”
“What can I say, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.”
Standing on her tiptoes, she wraps her arms around my neck. “I love you.”
Sliding my hand in her hair, I bring her closer and whisper. “I know.”
J.B. snorts.
“Hey.” She slaps my arm, attempting to move away.
“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” She gives me a mock glare, and I rub my nose against hers. “I love you, too.”
“Do you two lovebirds want a ride or are you going to walk back to the parking lot?”
“I’m not walking.” Genevieve drops to her feet, slips out of my arms, and all but runs to the golf cart.
“Guess we are,” Jared says from behind me.
“Nope,” J.B. says, “My cart has four seats.”
“Did you somehow know you were going to need four?” Jared questions as he heads over to the cart J.B.’s pointing to, and places the golf clubs in the back.
“After watching someone pass out from heat stroke years ago, I’ve always gotten the one with four seats. Just in case, so I don’t have to walk back.”
“Aren’t you the scout?” I tease, taking Gen’s hand and leading her to sit in the back with me.
“If the way he drives is any indication, I’d say no.” Gen scoffs.
“Don’t worry,” I wrap my arms around her, tucking her close to my side, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll keep you safe.”
The cart jerks forward, and I grip the handle next to my thigh. Gen is reaching out with both hands for hers.
“Sorry.” J.B. chuckles. But the grin stretching his face says he’s anything but.