Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

That is until the end of last season, when he was rounding third base at his usual speed of light and he slipped on the base, tearing ligaments and tendons in his right knee. It ended the season for him. He was supposed to come back this year good as new after surgery and rehab, but he never did, and he’s been in hiding ever since, never once giving an interview for his absence on the field this season.

Birdie and Shepherd walk back over to us, and she indicates for him to sit down next to me. He was a few years older than us, the same age as Wren, so I only met him a couple times back then until he left for college and never came back. Birdie reintroduces us, and I shake his hand, only squeezing it a little extra firmly before letting it go. Pulling Birdie back where she was between my legs, I grab her face and give her a nice, big kiss, just so Mr. Baseball doesn’t get any ideas.

“Noted.” Shepherd chuckles softly from next to me when I pull back from Birdie’s mouth.

“Where’s your sister at this evening?” Shepherd asks Birdie, and I glance over at him curiously when he rubs the back of his neck nervously while looking around the stands.

“She had to work tonight. My mom wasn’t feeling good. How long are you in town? She’s going to be pissed she missed you if this is just a quick overnight trip. That woman has more T-shirts, hoodies, and jerseys with your name on the back than anyone else I know, watches every single game like it’s a religious experience, and God forbid any of us interrupt her while you’re playing.” Birdie laughs before quickly sobering. “Shit. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It makes her sound like a creepy stalker fan. She just likes cheering for our hometown boy done good.”

Shepherd doesn’t say a word. His mouth is just tipped slightly open in shock. And since I’m starting to wonder about this whole Wren obsession with him and why this guy who is the chattiest pro baseball player in the league who never shuts up when he’s interviewed suddenly can’t find his voice, I feel a little bad for the guy. I give him a little nudge with my elbow, so he’ll wake up and stop trying to catch flies in his mouth.

“Um, not sure how long I’ll be here,” Shepherd finally says. “Still feeling things out. Might stick around for bit. Maybe… maybe don’t tell Wren I’m here. I want to surprise her.”

I just laugh and shake my head at him, wrapping my arms around Birdie, knowing surprises with either one of the Bennett sisters never work out well, but that’s his funeral to plan, not mine.

“You excited for next week?” I whisper in Birdie’s ear, feeling her shiver a little in my arms.

“You mean am I freaking out, can’t sleep, can’t eat, holy shit so excited you’re taking me to Hawaii next week for your first Pro-Reg tournament?” she asks, making me laugh when she starts bouncing up and down in her seat in my arms.

Now that I’m semi-retired, I can pick and choose what I want to do and where I want to go. Every single time I choose and look at the calendar ahead, I ask Birdie if she wants to go with me, and she always says yes. It was a no-brainer when we got this email inviting me to a Pro-Reg tournament where any regular, average Joe person can play with a pro, I get paid very well for it, and we found out it was happening in Honolulu. That email came six weeks ago, and Birdie’s had our bags packed since then.

I snuck the diamond ring into my bag I bought her after I won The San Francisco Open when she wasn’t looking.

As well as a framed picture of the two of us leaning over a small table and sharing a kiss in the middle on the balcony at SIG when we went to dinner right at sunset a few weeks ago to celebrate all the good things that have been happening. I asked Tess to snap a picture when Birdie wasn’t looking so I could surprise her. I’m pretty sure she’ll like this kind of a surprise.

“You packed the red bikini, right?” I ask her for the third time, the same red bikini she modeled for me this morning and I took off of her with my teeth.

Birdie just laughs at the desperate sound in my voice, all of us standing up and cheering as Owen gets up to bat. Birdie steps back over her seat so she’s standing right next to me, and I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side and kissing the top of her head as she screams Owen’s name at the top of her lungs.