Nate fought off the temporary depression. “Hey. Do you need some help? You can join me for a few holes, and I can give you some pointers.”
The guy stopped and turned. “Nah, one thing I learned is that the people here take golf seriously. I don’t want to mess up your day with my pre-K education. I meant to take some lessons, but my schedule’s insane. Figured I’d try the immersion method, but that’s not working.”
Nate smiled. He liked this guy’s confidence and willingness to look like an idiot in pursuit of knowledge. Most men had too big of an ego to just walk on a golf course without proper training. Especially the West course, which was obviously way out of his league. “Nah, it’s slow today and I’m just playing around. I don’t mind.”
His blue eyes were startling direct. Nate sensed he was being carefully assessed on a whole new level. “Okay. If you’re sure.”
“Grab your clubs and I’ll wait here for you.”
“What clubs? I only brought this one.”
A deep belly laugh burst from Nate’s lips. He hoped the guy didn’t think he was laughing at him, but as if he sensed the ridiculousness of the answer, his lips curved upward and he joined in. “Yeah, I know. Lame, huh?”
“We’ll use mine. My name’s Nate.”
“Wolfe.” His grip was firm. “Appreciate it.”
“No problem. Wouldn’t want to lose a potential golfer. Is there a reason you wanted to start to play?” He resumed walking toward the next hole, his clubs comfortably secured on his shoulder, face tipped up slightly to enjoy the sun.
Wolfe followed. “I work at a hotel and I’m trying to secure a big-time client. He has a huge roster of clients who come into New York to stay for a few weeks, and I’m trying to woo him away from the Waldorf. Only problem is he’s obsessed with golf. Plays all the time at this club, and only does deals on the course. I haven’t been able to get a meeting or even a conference call. So, I decided there was only one way to do it: I’ll come to him. Learn the game, finagle an invite into his group, and make my magic.”
Nate shook his head. “Don’t mean to burst your bubble, but it doesn’t work like that. No one sashays onto a course, plays a few rounds, and closes a deal. That’s only in the movies.”
“No shit?”
Nate laughed again. Damn, this guy was funny. “If you play badly or don’t know the rules, you’ll insult him. My advice is to take some lessons, get comfortable and decent with your skills, and then approach.”
“Hmm, only one problem.”
“What?”
“I need to close the deal in a few weeks.”
Nate slid his clubs to the ground and scratched his face. Growing in that damn stubble was annoying as hell. “I think you’re screwed. Unless you take a lesson every day. That’s possible.”
Wolfe groaned. “I work day and night. I can take a few lessons, definitely, but I need a fast route. Don’t they have one of those books, Golf for Dummies? Or How to Be Successful at Golf in Fifteen Days?”
“No.”
“You’re the direct type, huh?”
“Yep.”
Wolfe shot him a grin. “Good. I’ve had enough bullshit to last the rest of my life.”
“I bet. What hotel?”
“Purity.”
“Ah, yes, you’re opening in Manhattan. Nice place. No wonder you need the game; most hotel executives are huge golfers.”
“I’ve always been more of the video game type. What do you do?”
“I work for a small private company that’s trying to get people into space. I study propulsion mechanics and try to find a more economical, inexpensive way to get us to Mars.”
“An aerospace engineer, huh? Cool.”
Suddenly, Nate knew it was going to be a great day. “Yeah. Listen, I may be able to help. Let me study your natural stance and do some measurements. I’m working on an amateur program using physics to compute a sequence to increase your skill faster. I’d need to take some video, though.”
Wolfe studied him again, and Nate waited him out. There was a darkness within Wolfe he sensed immediately, but his gut urged him to help. He needed to expand his horizons from the work crowd and his brother. Delving into a special project might be the thing he needed to get his mind off his bewitching, sexy as hell matchmaker.
“Sure I won’t be taking up too much of your time?”
“I’m sure.”
“Then let’s do it. And thanks.”
“Welcome.”
They grinned at each other and got to work.
seven
KENNEDY SLID INTO the booth, plucked up her Skinny Girl margarita, and guzzled. The tequila smoothed away her worries of the day, including her calorie count—since the ice cream episode, she’d beefed up on her Greek yogurt and oven-roasted turkey breast, and hadn’t indulged in carbs for a full forty-eight hours.
Maybe that was why she was so pissy.
“Another diet, babe?” Kate gave her a sympathetic look from across the battered table. Kennedy’s inner circle knew that her push-pull with food never ended, though she managed to achieve a healthy balance most of the time. She watched herself carefully and was now able to yank herself back when she began getting nuts over daily caloric intake or a missed gym appointment. She thought of anorexia as alcoholism. She was always recovering and could never be completely cured. One twisted reflection in the mirror could be the catalyst to starve herself, but so far, she hadn’t regressed in more than five years. Odd, she seemed much more relaxed about indulging around Nate. After the fries and ice cream, she hadn’t gone home and beat herself up. She’d actually been . . . happier and more satisfied.
But then the old anxieties had come creeping back in, and she had promised to be stricter than ever with what she let into her body.
She refocused on Kate. “Always battling the enemy of carbs.”
“Whatever you do, please don’t give up chocolate. The last time you tried, Arilyn almost quit.”
Arilyn laughed. The tinkling sound rang out like church bells. “I’m not afraid of Kennedy.”
“If you keep wearing these outfits on a Friday night, you better be scared. How are you supposed to catch a hot man dressed in yoga pants?”
Arilyn looked a bit smug and a whole lot of satisfied. “Don’t need to. We’re back together.”