“I was hoping you’d say that.” I dip my head, pushing the hair out of my eyes before tapping the ball towards the hole.
She laughs. “Yeah, I just bet you are.”
Crap. My ball doesn’t go in.
Cecelia coughs into her hand while I walk over and tap it again, missing a second time. “Are you sure you want to do this? Seems risky on your part,” She says.
Par three.
“Yu-p,” I respond, letting the ‘p’ make a popping sound. “What kind of a damn fool doesn’t bet on a mini putt-putt game? In fact, I think it’s on the rules sign posted back there on the building.” I gesture behind us with my thumb, pointing towards the clubhouse. “Rule number six: Must place bets. Besides, I’m gonna win no matter what, so…”
Cecelia lets out an unladylike snort. “Didn’t you just get a par four on a par two?”
“Hello, par three. I’m a professional athlete: your lack of confidence offends me.” We walk towards the next course. “Your snorting is a real turn off too, by the way.”
She wrinkles up her nose and glares at me. “Well it’s a good thing then that I wasn’t trying to turn you on.” She steps around me and places her ball on the ground. “Anyways, you’re probably just saying that because Molly’s always doing it. I think her snorting may have rubbed off on me.”
I shrug. “Yeah, maybe. But still.”
“Fine. I’ll try not to do it anymore.”
Blankly, I stare at her.
“What?” she asks, confused.
“That’s it? ‘Fine, I’ll try not to do it anymore?’”
She stares at me like I’m a moron. “Well, yeah….”
“You’re not going to argue with me?”
“Um…”
“Wow. That’s kind of awesome.”
“Well, duh - I’m kind of awesome. Now close that sexy mouth of yours so I can start kicking your ass.”
Cecelia
“Okay, this is it. The last. Hole.” Matthew hovers over his golf putter, tapping the ball back and forth in between, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at me.
I shake my head and roll my eyes, looking at everything but him, feigning boredom. “Would you please get on with it already?” The game, while not tied, is close (not that anyone is keeping score), and Matthew keeps stalling.
“Cool your jets, little mama. This shit takes time. And skill.” He lifts his putter and points it to the small windmill covering the last hole. “See that hole there? When I put this little baby in motion,” he says this as he takes his red ball, flippantly tossing it to the ground, “it’s going to go into that tunnel, fall into that hole, and light up that siren. Got it? Are you paying attention?”
“Uh huh.”
“Good, because this shit’s important. Now here’s where it gets dicey. I bet (he wiggles his eyebrows at me again) that you can’t make the siren go off.”
“Pfft. Please.”
“No seriously. I bet you can’t do it.”
I cross my arms definitely. “Fine. I bet you can’t do it either.”
“Fine. What will you give me if you don’t?” His question comes out husky.
What will I give him?
“I’ll….” I look around, thinking, and scrunch up my nose.
Immediately, my thoughts get perverted, thinking about all the things I’d like to do to him. Suck on his neck, for one. Lick his dimple, for another. Run my hands all over his bare chest… Wait. Scratch that. I’d rather run my tongue all over his bare chest…
Oh god.
I’m positive as he stands there gazing at me, legs spread in a cocky stance, my cheeks get beet red and I resist the urge to run my hands down my face in frustration. I can even feel my neck and chest getting hot.
Great. Now I can’t even look at him.
Worse, I know he knows what I’m thinking: something sexual. How do I know this? Easy. The cocky grin on his face, dimple on display to torture me even further. “Well?”
“I don’t know,” I manage to croak out.
Matthew claps his large hands, rubbing them together. “Isn’t it a good thing that I’ve given this some serious thought while kicking your hot little behind?”
Now I feel my ears burning. Burying my face in my scarf and biting my cheek to keep from grinning like an idiot, I force out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh, this I gotta hear.” I lean on my putter.
“I think you’re really gonna like it. I’m a genius.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, spit it out already.”
“When I sink this put and light that lantern, I get to plant one on you.”
I roll my eyes. “I figured that’s what you were going to say.”
“Maybe, but there’s a catch!”
“Oh geez…”
“I get to plant one on you – at any time, in any location. And when I do, I’m going to make it a good one.”
“What the hell does that mean? Plant one on me. Any time, any location?”
“Exactly what you think it means. My mouth, all over you. You won’t know when or where it’s coming, but I promise - you’ll like it.” He laughs. “Don’t you just love the element of surprise? It will be kind of like a lion stalking its prey.”