Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

“You could use a lobotomy,” Birdie mutters, her eyes giving her away when they flicker down from my face to my open arms like she really wants to walk right into them. “There’s no way you’re my new golf pro.”

Dropping my arms, I slide my right hand into my pocket and pull out my Summersweet Island Golf Course photo I.D. that says Golf Pro right under my picture, holding it up for her.

“Greg printed it while I filled out my tax forms. Look at that handsome mug. It just screams golf pro and best employee you’ll ever have.”

“Who are you right now?” Birdie whispers, looking at me instead of my I.D. with part awe and part WTF.

“Um, your new golf pro. We’ve already went over this. Are you feeling okay? Having trouble with memory loss lately?” I question with mock concern as I slide my I.D. back in my pocket.

Birdie’s beautiful blue eyes narrow as they glare at me, and thankfully I’m standing between her and the golf club display and she doesn’t have a 9-iron within reach.

At this point, I don’t even know who I am right now, but I’ve never had this much fun in my life finally removing the filter I’ve always kept firmly in place. I’ve never been allowed to just say what I want and do what I feel. I had to be respectful and professional. I could only ever let loose around Birdie, and even then I still had to keep that filter in place, because, “oh hey there, best friend, I’ve been in love with you since we were fifteen and you don’t feel the same and I don’t want to lose you so I still need to watch what I say and do. Help me; I’m dying!” seemed a little risky.

I lost her anyway because of my own stupid insecurities. I’m not going to let that happen again, and I might as well be who I want to be and say what I want to say in the process. Freaking Birdie out is just an added bonus that will hopefully help me sneak my way back into her life and her heart while she’s too busy being confused by the new Palmer.

“My memory is just fine,” Birdie finally says, crossing her arms in front of her with an adorable huff. “And you don’t need me as your boss. You know this course, and you know what to do to be a golf pro. Well, minus screaming obscenities at people and throwing things in our water hazards. We have higher standards here at SIG.”

Point two for Birdie, but I’m about to win this match in the bonus round.

“Oh, I know I don’t need you as my boss,” I tell her, chuckling just because it pisses her off. “You need me as your employee. You know, so you can beef up my public image and get that promotion you’ve been working toward for… how long did Greg say it was?”

I tap my finger against my chin, look up at the ceiling, and I can practically feel Birdie’s anger rippling across the room and raising the hair on my arms.

“Eighteen months,” she growls.

I drop my finger from my chin and widen my eyes at her. “Wow, that’s a long time. Greg says this will be the deciding factor. Better not screw it up.”

As I casually slide my hands in my pockets and smile at Birdie, Tess finally walks out from behind me and quickly goes to her. While I enjoy the show of watching Birdie’s head on the verge of exploding, Tess pulls a BIC lighter out of her apron pocket, flicks the flame to life, and holds it right up in front of Birdie’s face while eyeing me up and down. “It’s not a sweatshirt, but that polyester blend looks like it will go up fast.”

I take a step back from the two women, since Tess scares me, and a chime dings as the pro shop door flies open, saving me from third-degree burns.

“Is this where all the hot, single ladies are?” Bodhi asks, sliding his sunglasses up onto his head to push his hair back from his face as he steps into the pro shop and looks over at me. “Oooh, there’s one now.”

I shake my head at his lame joke as his eyes move from me to Birdie.

“And there’s my favorite, spunky golf course manager. Get over here and give Bodhi some sugar.”

Bodhi opens his arms wide, much like I did in jest a few minutes ago, and before I can mentally prepare myself, Birdie races across the room and launches herself into my best friend’s arms.

Okay, so it isn’t the same Birdie-launch that was specifically designed for me where she puts her whole body into it and her feet come off the ground and her long legs wrap around his waist. It’s more of just a bumping-together hug where she has to lift up on her toes to reach his shoulders, but still. It hurts just as much as if she did our hug, and my arms feel so fucking empty watching Bodhi wrap his around her slender body. I only feel a little bit homicidal toward him.