Kiss My Putt (Summersweet Island 1)

“Why are you still standing here? Go find something to do,” Murphy orders Chris, who quickly shuffles out from behind the counter and then runs out the door.

When we’re alone in the pro shop, Murphy takes Chris’s place behind the counter with me, sitting down in the computer chair a few feet away and swiveling it to face me as he rocks back and forth.

“You’ve got to stop scaring everyone here,” I tell him, something I tell him at least three times a week.

Murphy started working at SIG right when he moved to the island, and he’s the one who got me my first job here as a caddie when I was in high school. When it came time for retirement, he tried it for exactly four days and hated every minute of it. He does a little bit of everything from mowing the greens and using the picker on the range to grab up all the balls at the end of the day, to helping serve drinks at the bar when we’re slammed and finding me wherever I’m working on the course just to annoy me.

“I haven’t stopped scaring everyone at my home, in my golf cart, or in town, so why would I stop when I’m at SIG?” Murphy shrugs. “I see you still haven’t started telling people you didn’t go out of town the last two weeks and you were right under their noses this entire time. I had to lie to your mother this morning, Roberta Marie Bennett. Do you see this face? This is a face that is not amused. Memorize it.”

I roll my eyes and turn away from him so he doesn’t see the guilt in them. It’s bad enough I didn’t get to spend two weeks in paradise and instead spent it holed up in my cottage, five houses down from my mom and two streets over from my sister and teenage nephew. But the entire island will know soon enough. I kept it from my mom. And my sister. And my best friend.

Oh my God, they are going to murder me!

“I’m going to tell everyone tonight, I swear. Just keep your yap shut for the rest of the day please.”

“Keep your yap shut about what? And holy hell did I miss your fucking face!”

A blur of black and red flies into the doorway of the pro shop that leads out into the bar area, racing across the room and behind the counter to tackle me in a hug before I can even take my next breath.

I wrap my arms around my best friend, Tess Powell, who works as a bartender here, and breathe in her familiar bubble gum scent. With her signature bright-red bob of hair and blunt bangs covering her forehead, a nose ring, and a closet filled with nothing but black clothing, she can and will kick anyone’s ass who pisses her off, but her tight hugs can always make everything better. I laugh and squeal and jump up and down as we continue to hug each other. I get caught up in the moment of two best friends being reunited after fourteen long days apart where they were separated by miles of land and sea and a boy.

And then I remember I was hiding in my back bedroom the entire time so no one from the street would see any light or movement, wearing the same pajamas, not showering, shoveling junk food in my face the entire time, around two miles away from Tess.

Uuuggghhh, I’m a shitty friend.

“I want to hear every single word about your magical two weeks in paradise with Bradley and how much dirty sex you had.”

“Jesus,” Murphy grumbles from his chair behind us.

I knew I shouldn’t have come back to work after what happened. I should have fled the island, left the country, changed my name, and started over. It would have been much easier than telling Tess I didn’t get to go on my dream vacation and the last time I had dirty sex was… never.

“Sorry, Murph.” Tess pulls out of my arms and gives him a salute before reaching around me to grab the remote control from the counter, aiming it at the small flat-screen television hanging on the wall across the room. “Before we get into all those delicious, X-rated details, I have something even better for you.”

Tess changes the channel away from the station that was playing The National Tour from ten years ago until she finds the channel she wants.

“They’ve been replaying it on ESPN on the hour every hour for the last week,” she says with a laugh, turning the volume up on the TV as the announcer talks about what’s coming up next.

“Oh, I don’t think she’s recovered from her… vacation enough to watch this yet, Tess,” Murphy warns her, slowly pushing up from his chair to stand next to me.