Page 24 of Fore-Ever Yours

“Okay, those aren’t bad,” he says begrudgingly.

“Oh, this one is my personal favorite from Sally Jo: ‘Matthew Wilkes can teach me how to putt any day.’”

Matthew releases an exaggerated groan, burying his face in his hands.

“They adore you! Even the ladies.” I nudge him with my shoulder. “You’re golf’s golden boy now.”

He leans back on the seat and shakes his head. “Let’s go. I think it’s time for you to learn a thing or two.”

“You’re going to teach me how to play golf…right now?” I raise my eyebrow, a nervous flutter in my stomach.

He nods and holds out his hand to me. “Well, I’m not going to teach Sally Jo how to putt, but I should teach my fake-girlfriend-slash-brand-manager. Don’t ya think?”

I hesitate for a moment, glancing at his outstretched hand before succumbing. I place my hand in his, the warmth of his fingers spreading through mine like a slow-burning flame. He pulls me to my feet and leads me to the tee box.

“Alright,” Matthew says, handing me the club. “Now, mimic my stance.”

I do as instructed, though I’m sure it looks nothing like his. “Like this?”

He lightly chuckles, then steps behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders and repositioning my body. That slow-burning flame in my hands now feels like a roaring fire on my shoulders.

“Don’t death grip it…relax.”

“Easy for you to say,” I mutter under my breath.

“Believe me, Beth,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “There’s nothing easy about this.”

Looking over my shoulder, our eyes meet. The way he looks at me, it’s like he’s not talking about golf. But he mustonlymean golf isn’t easy, right? He’s not talking about this moment of close proximity—he’s not talking about us.

But the dinners and strategy sessions, the ridiculously early morning gym sessions and tee times, they’ve all made it incredibly hard to keep rule #4—no feelings.

See, but here’s the thing about feelings: they’re stubborn little creatures that refuse to listen to reason. They’re like golf balls—once they take flight, there’s no stopping them until they hit their mark. And their current mark? The wonderful man standing right here.

“Beth?” His voice jolts me back to reality.

I blink up at him, my heart pounding in my chest. “Yes?”

“Ready to take a swing?” he asks, amusement lighting his eyes.

Absolutely, yes.

I mean, no. NO, bad Beth.

Matthew is just a guy, who happens to be incredibly attractive in every way, and he’s a friend.

No, less than a friend.

Matthew is your client.

And completely off-limits.

I swallow down the lump in my throat, nodding and trying to convince myself that maybe I’m catching a cold. Maybe I’m getting a fever, and that’s what’s causing all this heat. Or I need some sleep. That’s it. A good night’s rest and I’ll be back to normal.

Just as I’m about to take my swing, my phone rings in the golf cart. Relief washes over me at the excuse to step away from whatever was unfolding.

“Travis?”

“Beth, can you put me on speaker phone with Matthew? I have some news,” Travis says, his voice brimming with excitement.

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