Love At First Sight (Love Comes First 2)

“What’s the point?” I say with a heavy breath. “We’ll just use your ball anyway.”

“Stop looking so depressed,” he says as he smoothes out his footprints with the rake. “You’ll see her at the dinner tonight, and there’s a cocktail party at the club after the tournament.”

My thoughts scatter. I’m too excited to think.

I forgot all about the cocktail party. Of course, she’s going to be there. She has to be there, right?

And if she’s not… I’ll find some way to find her.

I’ll find her.

And I’ll make her mine.Chapter FourCarrie“Are we almost finished?” I ask as we pull up to the next hole. This day is taking forever.

“This is the eleventh hole,” Mr. Miller says as we get out of the cart and grab our clubs to hit yet again.

“Out of how many?” Please say eleven. Please say eleven.

“Eighteen.”

Damn it.

I sigh as I lean on the cart, daydreaming for the millionth time of that hot guy I met in the forest. He was just staring at me like a freak, but he was really cute. There’s something about him that I can’t shake. I keep looking around for him, but all I see is one old man after another.

It was definitely the most interesting part of the day, but it’s over now. Back to boring reality.

“Looks like you hit that one with your purse,” Raymond laughs after Mr. Miller’s ball doesn’t go too far.

They all laugh as I roll my eyes. These misogynistic jokes keep getting worse with every hole.

“You’re up, buttercup,” Barney says as he points his finger gun at me.

“It’s Carrie,” I say in a flat voice as I walk up and place my tee. I take a deep breath and whack the ball. Raymond and Barney burst out laughing as my ball flies past Mr. Miller’s.

It’s the first ball of mine that we’re using, but that doesn’t stop me from giving him a cocky look as I shove my club back in my bag. “Looks like we’re going to be using my ball.”

He sneers as he gets behind the wheel of the cart. “It appears so. I guess you’re good for more than just a pretty view.”

I bite my lip angrily as he takes off and the wind roars into my hair. I need this job. I need this job.

We hit again and this time, my streak of one is over. Mr. Miller hits it down the fairway and I hit right beside the pond.

“Meet me at the ball,” he says as he drives off in a huff. I don’t think he’s the kind of man who likes to be challenged. Especially by a young girl. Especially in front of his friends.

What an asshole.

I’m dragging my club in the grass and cursing the golfing gods for keeping me here while I walk to the pond to fetch my ball.

A frog jumps in the water as I step on the squishy ground and grab it. It’s then that I see a familiar face across the large pond that’s about the size of a baseball diamond.

“Hey! Callaway!”

He looks up at me with a fierceness in his bright green eyes and my skin explodes with tingles. He’s about three holes behind us. We already played that one (and I already hit my ball into this very pond from the other side).

His hair is a mess and his shirt is untucked. He looks almost… unhinged as he stares at me in what looks and feels like awe.

“Looks like your game is going as well as mine is,” I say with a laugh.

He doesn’t laugh back. He just continues staring at me with his mouth hanging open. If we were in a cartoon, his huge eyes would be jutting back and forth and his tongue would be unraveling into the water.

“All right, Callaway,” I say with a shrug. “Good luck finding your ball.”

“Wait!” he shouts when I turn to leave. “Carrie!”

He knows my name?

A smile forms on my lips even though it’s a little stalkerish. Although, I think Mr. Miller did call out my name during our last meeting. He probably heard it then.

His face is a portrait of desperation as he looks around and then starts walking forward.

“What are you doing?” I say with a surprised laugh as he steps into the water and keeps walking. He’s wearing navy blue pants that are getting darker with every step. The pond water travels up his muscular calves and up to his knees as he approaches.

“I need to talk to you,” he says with a hoarse voice.

“Okay,” I say as I look at him funny. “And you had to get into the water to say it, why?”

He doesn’t answer. He just keeps rushing through the shallow pond to get to me.

“I have something to tell you,” he says when he’s a few yards away. “I—”