Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t light Putz on fire for you. I got distracted by the homeless surfer.” Tess shrugs. “Fun fact—he really is homeless, so we don’t have to say that ironically anymore. Palmer always offers to get him a place wherever they stay, but Bodhi always refuses. Crashes on couches, sleeps on beaches, and he actually lived in a van down by the river in Costa Rica for a while. Says he can’t even remember the last time he cashed one of his paychecks from Palmer. He has absolutely no redeeming qualities. God, I want to screw his brains out.”

Leave it to Tess to add a little humor to the situation I’ve found myself in. I already knew all of this about Bodhi, since he spewed his life story to me the first hour after we met. He’s a laid-back guy who just wants to live his life, and he’s easy as hell to talk to. He’s like a cool big brother who your parents always wanted to strangle because he’d never move out of the basement. Tess had been visiting relatives in Jersey when Bodhi tagged along with Palmer on one of his trips to Summersweet, and I always hated they never got a chance to meet. I had no idea she’d be so obsessed with him, but I should have figured. Bodhi is an easy guy to become obsessed with.

“Stop being sad,” Tess suddenly orders.

“I’m not sad,” I reply… sadly.

“This is the fun part of the story. When the guy comes back with his tail between his legs and the heroine makes him grovel so he can get back into her good graces.”

“Stop reading so much and do more activities that rot your brain. Life is not a romance novel,” I remind her.

“No, but it could be a very well-executed psychological thriller if we play our cards right, you get some balls, and make Palmer grovel until he cries. Or I slit his throat with the sharp end of a golf tee.”

“God, I’m so glad I’m your friend and not your enemy,” I mutter before letting my head thump back against the chair to stare out at the lights from a luxury cruise ship slowly passing by a few miles out.

“You need to stop being sad that you haven’t gotten to Birdie-launch yourself at him, sniff his cologne, and see if his muscles feel as good as they look wrapped around you, and get mad at him again,” she says.

“I am mad,” I tell her unconvincingly as my shoulders droop, thinking about our hugs.

Tess suddenly sits up and turns sideways to face me, smacking one of her hands on the arm of my chair.

“May 24, 2018.”

Shit. That does it.

“Like, seriously, Tess? He’s just going to show up out of the blue after two years and get a fucking job here?” I ask, my voice going up a few octaves as I pull my feet up onto my chair and angrily yank my oversized sweatshirt over my knees when I get a chill. “He was my friend. He was my—”

“Don’t say it. You’ll just start crying instead of raging. Suck it up and keep going,” Tess says with a nod, knowing I was going to say he was my everything.

“I was his biggest supporter, his biggest shoulder to cry on about his dad, and I stood by his side through everything, being okay with only getting the crumbs of his attention sprinkled around me sporadically when his hectic schedule would allow,” I continue, my anger growing with each word I say, words Tess has heard a million times but, like a good friend, lets me complain about it again. “I finally got up the nerve to put myself out there, and he shut me down, blocked me from his life. And I’m supposed to just stand around and give him any part of my time, when he’s occupied so much of it for so long without giving a shit? No, ma’am!”

“No fucking ma’am!” Tess shouts, and I finally bump my fist against hers when she holds it out to me again. “Let’s burn his shit!”

“Will you stop trying to make fire happen? I’m trying to rage against the machine here.”

Tess folds her hands in her lap obediently.

“You know, the machine being Putz.”

“Jesus Christ, shut up and rage!”

I take a deep breath, trying to remember where I left off, but it doesn’t matter. I’m fired up, and I don’t see that changing any time soon.

“If he tries to be all cute and sarcastic and make me forget he hurt me, all I have to do is remember May 24, 2018.” I nod, wrapping my arms around my legs and glaring at the ocean like it personally offended me.

“That’s right. The date he ruined your life. Crushed your soul. Made you lose all trust in the human race, never to love again, and become a crazy cat lady.”