Gallant Golfer (River's End Ranch Book 10) Read online

  “Oh,” she said, and he smiled, thinking she almost looked disappointed. Kelsi’s Bigfoot obsession could be a little appealing.

  He leaned into the back of the golf cart, reaching into the ice chest for a soda. As he did, she slipped into the driver’s side. She turned around, leaning her arm on the steering wheel.

  “So, where did my ball land? Anywhere good?” she asked, smiling at him as her foot slipped from the brake to the accelerator. He’d set his bag of clubs in front of the cart, and as it rolled forward and over the bag, the ice chest bounced off the back, dousing him in ice cold water.

  He gasped as the ice ran down the inside of his shirt, through his trousers and into his shoes.

  “Oh, my gosh,” she said as she turned forward, punching at the pedals until she found the brake.

  He pulled at his shirt, hoping it might dry sometime soon in the chilly, autumn air and laughed. He walked toward the cart, slipping in the passenger seat beside her as she rested her head on the steering wheel and laughed.

  “You must think I’m the biggest golfing disaster since—well, since—”

  “I’m not sure there’s been a golfing disaster quite like you before. Actually, you’re a pretty good golfer. It’s the side stuff you haven’t mastered yet,” he said as he threw his arm over her shoulder. “That’s all that matters.”

  “Ah, you’re too kind. I’m amazed you’ve kept your sense of humor with someone who’s ditched a cart into a sand trap, thrown her club into the rough, panicked about Bigfoot and drenched you in ice water in cold weather.” She glanced over at him and mustered a smile. “Ready to call it a day?”

  He shivered as he wiped as much water as he could from his shirt. “I guess so,” he said. “Can I drive?”

  She laughed and hopped out of the cart. “Sure. I don’t blame you.”

  As they meandered back toward the pro shop, he forgot all about the mishaps and couldn’t get the feel of her in his arms out of his head. He wasn’t sure if she’d felt it, too, but judging by her flinging her club into the rough, he dared hope maybe she did.

  Halfway back to the shop, she said, “Chad, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

  “You just did,” he said.

  “Oh. I hate when people do that,” she said. “Sorry.”

  He chuckled and patted her knee. “No worries. Shoot.”

  “You’re such a fantastic golfer. Whatever made you leave the tour? You were on a roll.”

  “I was injured, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember. But you could have gone to physical therapy, had surgery. Fought for it.”

  Chad took in a deep breath. She’d seen the trophy shelves in his cabin, so he figured he might as well tell her the truth. “You remember all those trophies and commendations at my cabin?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly. “They weren’t yours, though.”

  He shook his head. “No, they were mostly my brothers.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well, our folks died when I was in high school. He kept up my golf lessons and played with me as much as he could while he was in college. He took care of me until I got into college myself. Then he joined the army.”

  “The army?” she said, and he glanced at her. She looked puzzled.

  “Yeah. He told me that I could take care of myself. I’d been recruited for the tour by then. Sponsors and everything, and he said that golf was just a game, and he wanted to go to something important.”

  “Oh,” Emma said quietly.

  “And since he’s been in service, he’s received commendation after commendation, and quite a few medals. He sends them to me for safekeeping.”

  “And you have them on your shelf? Where are your trophies? I know you earned quite a few during your pro days.”

  He shook his head and kept his eyes forward. He’d never told anyone this before, and he didn’t want to look at Emma—and see the pity likely in her eyes.

  “They’re in a box. In storage. Fighting for our country, our freedom, is a whole lot more important than hitting a little white ball around.”

  There. He’d never said it out loud before, but it felt good.

  Emma rested her hand on his knee. “Chad, there are lots of different ways to serve, to be of benefit. Think of all the people who get so much pleasure out of your golf lessons and the joy you share. And watching you in tournaments all those years.”

  He let out a wry laugh. “Really? I don’t think they compare. Not in the least,” he said as they pulled up in front of the Copper Cottage. “But thanks for saying so. See you later?”

  The door to the cottage opened and Skip stepped out. “We’ve been waiting for you. I want to take you to dinner tonight at the main house. I hear they’re having trivia, and it’s one of my favorite things. Hurry up and get changed,” he said before disappearing back inside.

  Brian stepped out and closed the door behind him. He looked at Emma and said, “You don’t have to go, you know.”

  Chad watched Emma as she stepped out of the cart and squared her shoulders. “No, it’s all right. There’s something I want to talk to him about, anyway. It’s important.” She turned to Chad and smiled, nodding as she lifted her clubs from the back of the cart.

  “Thank you, Chad. It was a lovely day. It’s given me much food for thought,” she said as she disappeared into the cottage.

  “Food for thought?” Brian asked Chad.

  He shrugged his shoulders, and wasn’t exactly sure what she was referring to. His trophies? Bigfoot? The kiss he’d almost taken from her? Her club spinning through the air?

  It had been an eventful day, and he stopped trying to figure it all out. “I don’t know, Brian. Want to catch dinner and trivia in a bit?”

  “Sure, man. See you in a few,” Brian said as he turned back into the cottage.

  Chad headed back to his own cabin, more confused now than when the day had begun.

  CHAPTER 15

  C had squirmed in his seat as Barbi cocked her head and squinted at him. “You all right?”

  “Sure, I’m fine,” he said as convincingly as he could. Truth was, he couldn’t stop watching the door for Brian. And, of course, Emma and Skip. It killed him to think of her having to spend the evening with him and he could kick himself for not having thought of a way to get her out of it.

  “Hm,” Barbi said, clearly not buying that he was fine. “You here for trivia?”

  “Huh?” he said, pulling his eyes away from the door. “Uh, yeah, sure. A high-top would be fine in the bar.”

  “Help yourself, then,” she said and she smiled as she pointed to a couple available tables. Chad grabbed one in the corner, hoping that wherever Skip and Emma sat, he could keep an eye on them.

  He leaned back on the stool after he’d thrown his jacket on the back and pulled at his collar. He didn’t have to wait too long—Skip, Emma and Brian came in not to long after he was seated. Brian looked around, spotted him and waved, heading over and taking the stool on the opposite side of the table. They both watched as Skip took Emma’s coat and handed it to the hostess. Chad noticed that Emma flinched when Skip tried to rest his hand on her lower back, guiding her to their table. It made him happy and mad at the same time—happy that she didn’t want his hand there and made that he’d have the audacity to try it.

  “That’s a pretty sorry sight to behold, isn’t it?” Brian asked as he looked at the menu. “I swear I’d like to just ship him out to—I don’t know, Antarctica or something.”

  “What were you thinking when you invited him?”

  “Seriously? I was thinking that he wouldn’t come. That he’d have enough decency to know she needed a break. That he had some class. I’m afraid I was sadly mistaken.”

  Chad nodded slowly. “No kidding,” he said as he craned his neck to see where Skip and Emma had been seated. He sighed as he watched her smile at the server, her copper curls falling softly over her shoulders. The green sweater she wore over her tight jeans complemented h
er eyes. He couldn’t help but notice that the same eyes he’d seen sparkle at him were clouded now, and after the server left, she mostly looked down at her menu.

  Before he could tear his gaze from them, she glanced up, searching the room until their eyes met. His heart tugged at the look in her eyes—pained, he saw clearly—and she quickly looked away, turning her attention back to Skip.

  “Why did she agree to have dinner with him?” he asked, turning to Brian. “She clearly can’t stand the jerk.”

  Brian shook his head as he glanced over at his sister. “I don’t know, really. She seemed determined. Wanted to ask him something. What, I don’t know.”

  “Couldn’t she just have asked him in the cottage?” Chad asked, physically turning his stool toward Brian as he hoped he could stop staring.

  Brian rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess not. When she gets something in her head, there’s no stopping her.”

  “You all want to play trivia tonight?” Barbi asked, flashing some trivia cards in front of them. “It’s about to start.”

  “Sure,” Chad said as he glanced over at Skip. Their eyes met and Skip held up his trivia cards, his eyebrows raised. “Man, is everything a competition with this guy?”

  “Pretty much. I only beat him in tournaments about fifty percent of the time, so I wouldn’t mind kicking his butt at trivia. Small pleasure,” Brian said as he took a card from Barbi and smiled. “Emma’s pretty good, but I doubt she’ll help.”

  “Okay, we’re on, then,” Chad said. They spent the next hour answering the questions asked, and enjoying their pizza. By the halfway point, they were in second place—to Skip.

  “Guess the better man is ahead,” Skip said as he stepped up to their table. “As usual.”

  Brian groaned and rolled his eyes. “It’s just trivia, man,” he said as he reached for another slice of pizza.

  “It all matters,” Skip said as he threw Chad an exaggerated wink. “We’re having a lot of fun over there. Emma knows a winner when she sees one.”

  Chad shook his head as he watched Skip walk back to his table—and sat in the chair next to Emma that he himself wished he was in.

  Trivia continued and Chad and Brian had a good laugh over some of the questions. Who would know these answers? They fell behind by a few more points and ordered root beer floats. As Barbi dropped them off at the table, Brian elbowed Chad and nudged his chin in the direction of Emma and Skip.

  Emma was talking to Skip, leaning in and in hushed tones. Chad strained to hear what she was saying, but she was a little too far away. She looked like she was trying to convince him of something, her hands waving in the air as the discussion got a little animated.

  Chad stood up along with Brian, ready to come to her aid. They exchanged glances and just as they took a step toward Emma’s table, Skip leaned back in his chair, folded his arms over his chest and shook his head slowly. Chad had no idea what Emma was asking him, but he wanted to rip the smug smile from Skip’s face and would have if he’d been close enough.

  He and Brian took two steps toward Emma, but as they did, she stood and pushed her chair back, storming out of the restaurant without even grabbing her coat.

  “Huh. What do you think that was all about?” Chad asked Brian as he fought the urge to follow Emma.

  “Not sure, but we may find out soon enough.” Brian nodded at Skip, who was on his way over to their table.

  “Hey, guys,” Skip said, his smile broad as he pulled up a stool.

  Chad looked from Brian to Skip and asked, “Is she all right?”

  “Emma? She’s fine. Or she will be, once she comes to her senses,” Skip said as he signaled the bartender. “Beer, please.”

  “You’re not going to walk her home?” Chad asked, squinting at Skip.

  “Nah, I’d like another beer. Not my problem she didn’t want to stay.”

  Chad was fuming and still wanted to chase after Emma, but Brian stood and threw some bills on the table. “I’ll walk her home. You two stay,” he said, shooting a look at Skip and then a nod to Chad. He shrugged on his jacket and headed out the door. “See you tomorrow. May the best man win.”

  “Best man. That’s a good one,” Skip said as he lifted his beer to his lips and drank half of it in one gulp.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chad asked, leaning back on his stool and folding his arms over his chest. This guy was a real piece of work. He’d upset Emma and now—who exactly was he insulting? He hadn’t remembered him being such a jerk back in the day, when they were on tour.

  “Ah, you know. Brian’s just about a has-been and you—well, you’ve been a has-been for quite some time. Emma thought maybe she wanted to stop her internship, maybe stay here for a bit. But I set her straight on that one,” Skip said, his beady eyes roaming the bar, stopping on a blonde tourist who winked at him. “Told her no way. She’s the best sports therapist around, and I actually enjoy our time together.” He nodded knowingly at Chad and winked.

  Chad’s stomach turned, his fists clenching. “She asked to get out of her contract and you said no?”

  “That’s right,” Skip said as he leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head. “She just doesn’t know what’s good for her.”

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Chad stood. He knew guys like this. He’d seen them for years on the tour, and they only cared about one thing. Winning. An idea flashed through his head, and he only gave himself a moment to think about it. It might be a really bad idea—or a really good one. But the thought of Emma, angry and hurt, flashed through his mind and he decided it was worth a try.

  “Yeah, I bet. Say, you all ready for tomorrow?” he asked Skip.

  “Absolutely. I know it’s only an exhibition, but I plan to win. Like I always do.”

  “Great,” Chad said as he set some bills down on the table to pay for the pizza. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  “You looking forward to losing?” Skip said as he gulped the last of his beer.

  “Well, it may not turn out that way. I’ve had some pretty good treatments this week and I’m feeling pretty good. Practice was awesome today,” he said, holding Skip’s gaze as he saw the familiar, competitive edge rising in him.

  “Emma’s good, but I’m certain even she couldn’t bring you back from the pro graveyard, my man,” Skip said as he chuckled. “Not a chance.”

  Chad knew he had him, then. “Care to wager on it?”

  Skip stood and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “A bet? You sure you want to tangle with me? I’m still on the tour, you know. Sponsored by—”

  “Yeah, yeah, we all know who you’re sponsored by,” Chad said as he took a step closer to Skip, almost meeting him nose to nose. “Yeah, a bet.”

  “Okay,” Skip said as he swayed a bit and signaled the bartender for another beer. “What’s your wager?”

  Chad took a deep breath, knowing it was now or never. Skip had had a few beers, and he took his best shot. “I want to bet for Emma’s contract.”

  CHAPTER 16

  “I ’m so sorry I got you into this, Emma,” Brian said as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

  She pulled her robe around her and looked out the picture window into the night. The pain in her brother’s voice tugged at her heart, and she knew he wouldn’t have set up any of this with Skip if he’d known how it would turn out. He’d spent many years teasing her, challenging her, but he wanted the best for her, too. She knew that.

  She crossed the room and rested her hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, Brian. I’ll figure out something.”

  He looked up at her from the stool at the kitchen island. She’d handed him a mug of hot chocolate when he’d come in, hoping against hope that he’d be alone and Skip would stay at the bar. She’d breathed a sigh of relief when he had come in alone. At least a few more minutes without Skip, and she’d gladly take it.

  “What happened? At the restaurant?”

  She sipped her hot chocolate and sat down beside him. Sh
e hadn’t wanted to get his hopes up, like hers were, about asking Skip to cancel their internship contract. But now, there was no way to avoid telling him.

  She sighed and leaned against the counter. “You know I haven’t been happy for a while, on the tour, right?”

  “Yes,” Brian said as he turned toward her. “And it’s pretty clear why.”

  She stood and paced, her arms folded across her chest. “There are plenty of other places I can intern with. The requirements aren’t that restrictive.”

  “Where would you go?” Brian asked, his eyebrows raised.

  Hesitating in front of the fireplace, she gazed down at the flames. “I don’t know. But someplace like this, like River’s End Ranch, would be awesome.”

  Brian pushed himself from the counter and stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders. “You mean someplace where someone like Chad might be?”

  She spun to face him, tears welling as she rested her head on her brother’s shoulder. “Yes,” she said quietly, wiping away the tears as they spilled.

  “Ah, I thought so,” he said as he brushed back one of her curls. “So, what happened at the restaurant?”

  She stepped away and reached for a tissue, dabbing at her eyes. “I brought up the contract tonight at dinner. I thought he’d be reasonable, consider that it wasn’t working out for me.”

  Brian sat on the black leather sofa and stretched out his legs. “And?”

  She threw the tissue in the fire, watching as it blazed then disappeared. “He just laughed at me. Said I didn’t know what I wanted, that he was the best thing for me.”

  “What? Of all the—” Brian leaned forward, his elbows on his knees as his fists clenched.

  She turned toward him, her palms out. “Don’t get upset. I was at first, too, but I don’t think that’s going to help anything. I’m pretty sure I’d be better off going at this strategically.”

  He leaned back and rubbed his hand through his hair. “Right. Have you thought of a way to do that?”

  She shook her head and paced in front of the fire. “No, not yet. I honestly expected he’d say yes, so hadn’t even tried to think of an alternative.”