“Since we’re down a player, we’ll average the scores for each team. Ladies first.” Dean gestured to the putting square for the first hole.
Audrey hefted her putter and said, “Don’t mind if I do.” She lined up her pink ball and tapped it down the green.
The first hole was simple enough, a straight shot to the flag with a slight bump in the middle of the green to divert the balls. Maggie wasn’t an expert miniature golfer, but even she got her ball in on par. Maggie didn’t worry about setting her plan in motion until hole three. The third hole had a pipe that ran under a fake pond feature. Maggie purposefully shot her ball wide, missing the pipe. One by one, her friends dropped their balls under the water and down to the next part of the hole, but Maggie missed twice more before finally dropping her ball down the PVC and into the hole at the other end. Audrey shot her a small frown but said nothing.
Two holes later, karma was mad at Maggie for purposefully missing shots, and now she was almost ten strokes behind her teammates as she missed putt after putt. She’d quit trying to miss ten shots ago, but she couldn’t seem to focus enough to get the angle and strength of her putts right. The breeze had picked up too and the goosebumps along her arms and collarbones were spreading faster than before. Ever the competitor, Audrey pursed her lips a little tighter each time Maggie missed another easy shot. After the fourth time Mac rescued her ball from the water or the rough, Maggie started tapping her ball along until she was close enough to sink it into the hole. The result was a high-as-a-kite score, but the edges of Mac’s pants were finally drying out.
“You okay?” Audrey asked.
Maggie swallowed back the flutter of nerves. She hated feeling like a weak link, but the payout would be worth it. Totally romance novel-worthy.
“I don’t know why I’m struggling. Am I lining up wrong?” She chanced a look at Dean, her attention skating over Mac as she did so. The corners of his mouth were threatening to tip up into what might have been a smile.
As they approached the sixth hole, Maggie blanched at the S curve of it and the rocks dotting the green.
“I’ll help you with that, babe,” Dean offered.
“I should just be my own team. Mac and Audrey can soldier on without me sandbagging their score.”
“Relax.” Dean put his putter to the side. “I’ve got you.”
That sounded lovely.
Dean placed Maggie’s yellow ball on the small black square. Maggie moved up to stand in position, her hands holding the top of her putter. She was small enough that she could stay fairly upright as she lined up her shot. Dean had to bend almost in half as he wrapped his body around hers and placed his hands on the putter, too. Maggie released the stick and tried to step back, but she only pressed herself tighter into Dean’s chest.
“Grab your putter, Babs.” Dean’s voice rumbled in her ear. Maggie moved her hands back into position. “See that far wall?” Dean nodded over her shoulder to the tiny cement curb ringing the green. “We’re aiming to bounce our ball right off the wall there so it turns and heads down towards the hole. Understand?”
Maggie nodded, hoping he understood the movement. His chin was just about even with her temple. She did not know what he’d just told her to do. Her brain had stopped working when he’d stepped up behind her. She was a decent player when she wasn’t throwing her own game and figured they were planning to bounce the ball into position.
“Repeat after me, Babs: ‘I will not hit the ball as hard as I can.’”
“I will not hit the ball as hard as I can.”
“‘If I do that, my ball will sail off the green and land in the water, and Mac will have to fish it out again.’”
“I don’t mind,” Mac said, arms crossed over his chest.
Maggie repeated Dean’s words back. Then, with her fake boyfriend wrapped around the back of her body, the heat from his chest licking up her shoulders and down her arms, she took aim and hit the ball with all of her might. It hit the wall, bounced off the green, and rolled into the water. Dean let go of Maggie to go retrieve her ball, reaching the water before Mac, and Maggie couldn’t stop herself from shivering at the loss of his warmth. She spotted Audrey and Cal trading wet kisses on the bench set off of the green, but Mac’s eyes stayed glued to her, and she resisted the urge to shiver again.
“Babs.” Dean held her dripping yellow ball out to her, “We said we would not smack it into kingdom come. Let’s try again. Set up.”
Dean put the ball back on the black square and then stepped up behind Maggie, waiting for her to be ready. Maggie wrapped her hands around her putter but hesitated to press back against Dean. With a low chuckle, Dean looped his arm around her waist and pulled her flush against his body.
“I don’t bite.” He placed his hands below hers again. “Okay, once more, with less feeling, Babs. Less, do you hear me?”
Maggie nodded again and tapped her ball with less force. It rolled to the wall, bounced off and changed direction to roll down towards the flag and the hole.
“It worked!” She said and turned to throw her arms around Dean’s neck.
He straightened, pulling Maggie up onto the tips of her toes, and she closed the distance between them to brush her mouth against his. It was a quick kiss, barely a peck, but when she pulled back, Dean was grinning down at her.
“See what happens when you listen to me?” He said, “Only good things, babe, only good things.”
Maggie putted her ball in on the next stroke and waited as everyone else finished out their turns. They were standing in a particularly shaded part of the course, and a shiver tripped up her spine again. Maggie could have fought the wrenching movement, but she knew from experience that suppressing the tremors would mean her teeth would chatter, clacking together like castanets.
The seventh hole looked equally devilish. There was a bridge each ball had to roll over, avoiding the water below and the fountain it flowed into. When it was Maggie’s turn, she set up her ball and waited for Dean to come wrap himself around her again. He put his putter down and started towards her when Cal threw an arm out.
“You can’t keep helping her. She’s on the opposite team.”