Page 36 of Forget Me

Finally, Larissa stood in front of Mateo and demonstrated a swing. Was waggling her ass like that strictly necessary?

But Mateo wasn’t watching her. He kept his eye on the ball, reared back in a smooth movement of his powerful shoulders, and swung through. The ball sailed through the air, hanging longer than I thought possible, and bounced straight down the center of the green.

Larissa shielded her eyes and followed the ball’s trajectory. “Impressive.”

Mateo grinned. “Your demonstration was successful.”

She preened for a moment. “Get up here, Miriam. You’re next.”

In a much more businesslike way, she coached me on my stance and my grip. Still, everything felt awkward, and when I pulled back the club, she shrieked, “No, no, keep your left arm straight!”

I froze and looked at my left arm, which had bent back on the upswing. I lowered the club and tried again. This time, I focused on keeping my elbows straight as I swung through. But I missed the ball completely. It remained on the tee.

My cheeks burned as Larissa cracked up. “I’m not laughing at you,” she said, blotting tears under her eyes. “It’s happened to everyone.”

“Seems like you’re laughing at me,” I muttered under my breath. Great. I’d taken a risk by coming out to try golf with the person I hoped would be my boss, and I looked ridiculous. Would she hold it against me if I was a disappointment at golf? Would the failure taint everything else I did? Frustrated tears prickled behind my eyes. I blinked them away. I should stick to accounting and leave sports to everyone else.

“If I may.” Mateo stepped up behind me and braced my shoulders with his big hands. “Maybe another amateur can help.”

He nudged my feet a little wider and had me point my left toes out. Then he asked me to rotate my hips to the right as I pulled the club back. My body felt one hundred percent awkward.

Still standing behind me, he placed his hands over mine on the club. Together, we pulled it back again, then it seemed like gravity took over, pulling the club down toward the ball and through. The ball sailed off onto the green, not as far as Mateo’s had gone, but it passed other balls sitting on the grass.

“I did it! We did it!” He still had his hands on my arms, so I turned and hugged him, and it seemed like the most natural thing in the world when his arms came around my back, too.

“Thank you,” I murmured in his ear. “Sorry, I should have asked before I hugged you. Is hugging okay?”

“Of course.” His soft whisper in my ear contrasted with the prickle of his stubble against my jaw, and I shivered.

“You said you don’t play,” I whispered back.

“I don’t golf anymore, but I played a time or two on the island. Weekends, I worked as a caddie at the club.”

“A ringer!” Somehow, my fingers had gotten tangled in the waves at the back of his head. They were soft and thick, cushioning my fingers. “You’re not a newbie at all, are you?”

He chuckled. “I let Larissa believe in her own assumption.”

I frowned and pulled back a little to see his face. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners in a soft expression. Had I done that, too, about Mateo? Assumed he was a big, thick himbo and let that guide my behavior?

He’d let me do it. Let us both do it. He’d concealed his abilities, his real self, behind a flirty mask. What else was he hiding? And why did he feel he needed to do it? Defensive anger, like when that jerk, Anthony, made fun of Bree in seventh grade, bubbled hot inside my chest. I gripped Mateo’s hair like I’d shake him for trying to be less than he was.

“No PDA, please.” Larissa’s voice startled me. I’d forgotten for a moment we weren’t alone. “Not on the course.”

Shit. I’d forgotten where we were, and I was holding him with my hands tangled in his hair like we were about to kiss. Kissing was definitely not allowed in our fake relationship. Or on the golf course. “Sorry,” I mumbled.

Mateo did the opposite. He turned me easily in his arms so my back nestled against his chest. His arms banded around my belly. “Do you blame me? Flavio, you must be on my side.”

Flavio looked up from his phone long enough to smirk at us.

It was ridiculous to enjoy being cuddled in Mateo’s arms. Everything we were doing—from riding together in Mateo’s car to his pretended ignorance—was fake for Larissa. Not real. Besides, our PDA in front of people at her club might embarrass her.

I squirmed out of his grasp. “Larissa’s right. We’re supposed to be, um, hitting.”

“All right.” Mateo strolled a few steps away and crossed his arms. “Hit. I’ll enjoy the view.”

I repositioned myself at the tee and looked out across the green. It wasn’t much of a view. A long, flat grassy area bordered by some scrubby evergreens. What was he talking about? I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him.

His gaze was glued to my backside in my stretchy black work pants.

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