Page 5 of Tee the Season
“Did he now?” And suddenly, there she is, a vision appearing in the doorway. Even more beautiful than I remembered. Dark hair falls in waves past her shoulders, and she has that same confident smile that made me lose my mind at the wedding.
Instead of the mint-green bridesmaid gown that spent the night crumpled on my hotel room floor, she’s wearing skinny jeans and a cream-colored sweater that hugs every curve. And when her chocolate-brown eyes meet mine, a zip of electricity shoots through my chest.
“Hey, Rory.” Her voice is casual, but there’s an undertone of heat. The slightest hint of desire gives me hope she’s thought about that night, too.
When I don’t answer right away, my brain still processing the sight of her, she glances at Hays, who’s more than happy to rub salt in my wound.
“Rory here just lost his focus at a crucial moment,” Hays says, clapping me on the shoulder. “It’s…very unlike him.”
Her gaze finds mine again, a challenge there. A spark in those rich dark eyes that makes my pulse kick up. “Is that so?”
She’s onto me, but one thing’s for sure, round two definitely needs to happen.
***
Twenty minutes later, we’re seated around Leah’s dining room table as Hays drones on about his strategy for the season and I covertly study the way Tabitha’s fingers wrap around the stem of her wineglass. Outside, snow falls thick and fast, the flakes visible in the lamppost’s glow on the corner.
“This is incredible, Leah,” Tabitha says, gesturing at the table laden with platters of food. “You really went all out.”
“Had to make it special.” Leah emphasizes the wordspecialand shoots Tabitha a pointed look I can’t read.
“The key is staying patient early in the year,” Hays says, unfolding his napkin. “Finding your stride and—”
“Should we be worried about that?” I interrupt, nodding toward the window which rattles as a particularly powerful gust howls past.
“It’s fine,” Leah assures me. “We’re used to winter storms around here.”
“If you say so,” I reply, grateful that Hays offered to chauffeur me around in his four-wheel-drive SUV during my visit.
“I’d be more worried about surviving a hundred and fifteen degree day in the desert,” Tabitha says.
“It’s a dry heat.”
She laughs, and it’s the same playful sound that threw off my putting earlier. “When it’s hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk…”
“Okay, enough golf talk and weather debates,” Leah announces. “Rory, what are your plans for the holidays? Pleasetell me you’re not spending Christmas by yourself in some hotel.”
Hays snorts. “His idea of the perfect holiday is a workout followed by a day alone with no one bothering him.”
“That’s not true,” I protest, though the description isn’t too far off base when I don’t head to Texas to visit my sister and her family. “I have holiday traditions.”
“Such as?” Tabitha raises an eyebrow.
“Die Hard. Every Christmas Eve.”
The women exchange a look of pure disbelief.
“That’s not a holiday tradition,” Tabitha shoots back, shaking her head. “It’s—”
“A Christmas movie,” I counter, enjoying the spark in her eyes.
“It’s an action movie that happens to take place at Christmas.”
I can’t help but grin at her fierce conviction.
“What about you?” I ask, reaching for my beer. Under the table, my knee bumps against hers as I shift in my chair, and she doesn’t pull away. “Let me guess—caroling, cookie exchanges, other old-fashioned small town holiday excitement?”
“Actually, yes.” She doesn’t back down even as color rises in her cheeks. “The tree lighting ceremony,Storytime with Santa, Christmas morning with Aunt Mae…” She lists off her traditions with obvious affection.
