Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

“Got any plans for tonight to celebrate the end of three days of hell?” I ask just to fill the silence, since I can’t seem to figure out how to turn around and break his stare as I take another couple steps back.

“Nothing but relaxing on the deck of my cottage.” He shrugs, casually sliding his hands in the front pockets of his black athletic shorts. “I really missed the view. It takes my breath away.”

It doesn’t escape my attention that he’s still looking right at me when he says those words, and my analytic brain that didn’t learn its lesson the first time wonders if he’s talking about the ocean view from the deck of his cottage or me.

“I’ll clean up here then head over to the tents and start folding up chairs and tables,” Palmer says, nodding back to the pile of discarded beer cans and bottles we pushed out of the way for the photo op that the grounds crew must have missed during last night’s cleanup. “I’m sure Greg will want to move the dinner and awards banquet into the restaurant, so I’ll see you there later, sweet cheeks.”

I finally turn away from Palmer with an annoyed grunt and stomp over to my golf cart.

Yep. Definitely talking about the ocean view. I’m in hell.CHAPTER 17Birdie

“Want to join our threesome?”“Good thing we got everything taken down and everyone inside. That thing blew in fast,” Adam says next to me, my eyes roaming the golf course’s packed restaurant as the rain starts to fall a little more steadily from the black clouds that are now directly above the course.

Murphy radioed me a few minutes ago when I was walking through from the bar that everyone had been cleared from the course, but I still haven’t been able to spot Palmer. I continue to scan the room, Tee Time decorated in the same deep shades of green and dark cherry wood as the bar, but the tables in here are covered with white linens and set with fine china and sparkling crystal goblets. This is the kind of place where small wedding receptions are held and where senior prom dinners are eaten, and then photographs are taken out on the deck, and where anyone on the island comes for any special celebration and a photo op. It’s where I always pictured a silly fantasy of Palmer and me celebrating something special, sitting out on the deck as the sun went down, toasting our glasses, and then leaning across the small table to share a kiss. The deck looks out on the lush, green, manicured lawn of the 1st hole of the private members’ side, and then beyond that is nothing but blue ocean. It’s beautiful and something that shouldn’t be missed when you’re here.

No one seems to mind that their steak and lobster dinner was moved from outside under the tents to inside where there’s partial air-conditioning. The chattering of everyone’s happy voices fills the room while their food is being served, and I scan a few more tables.

My heart flutters in my chest when I finally spot Palmer, just beyond the half-wall that separates the restaurant from the deck, standing under the protection of the deck ceiling as the rain starts to fall a little harder.

“This is ridiculous. Just go grab what you want, Birdie,” I whisper to myself.

“What? You want me to grab something for you?” Adam asks a little louder over the clanging of plates and silverware.

I ignore him, unclipping my radio from the waistband of my skirt and handing it over to him without taking my eyes off of Palmer.

He’s holding one of his clubs up behind his neck as it lays horizontally across his shoulders, his wrists draped over the titanium bar and his torso elongated as he twists a little back and forth while he stands there, doing a golfer stretch I’ve seen him do a million times. Except now I’m suddenly thinking about that spreader bar scene in that movie Wren made me go to the mainland to see ten times.

Fine. So she made me go once, and I dragged her the other nine times. Whatever.

“You okay, Birdie?” Adam asks when a sound comes out of me that’s part whimper, part moan, part dying cat, and I reply to him with a distracted wave of my hand.

Leave me alone. I’ve got thoughts to think, dammit!

Palmer might be snarkier, and hotter, and have more confidence, but underneath it all, he’s still that same shy guy who couldn’t flirt with a woman to save his life. It’s not like he’s laughing and getting close and neck-nuzzling with anyone else since he’s been here. Maybe he’s waiting for me to come to him. I didn’t imagine what he said behind the Dip and Twist, or even the way he looked at me last night, when I was pressed against his chest and he whispered my name. He was feeling something, and he meant those words behind the ice cream stand, and he really did look at me like he wanted to take a bite out of me before his guard went up.