Under the Table(47)



Suddenly, to her dismay, he pulled away.

“Hold tight,” he said, reaching for the phone. “I have to cancel my tee time.”

Her smile grew wide. He wanted to cancel playing golf to play with her. Maybe she had two regrets, starting something she herself wasn’t sure she felt up to finishing.

“Don’t cancel,” she said, halting him in middial. She wanted to see him doing what he loved. She wanted to send the clear message that if it was something that was important to him, then it was important to her too. It wasn’t all about her, no matter how much he was willing to prove otherwise. Zoey wanted to give back.

“I don’t want to leave you,” Tristan protested.

“I second that! I want to come with you.”

“You want to play golf with me?”

“Well, I don’t know about playing . . . but I’d be more than willing to try and learn.” More like watch you, a correction she kept to herself. And see what the maximum speed of a golf cart was.

He looked so genuinely excited, her eyes began to glisten.

“I would love that,” he said.

“Sure, you say that now. Let’s see how you feel when eighteen holes takes eighteen hours.”

“I have all the time in the world.” He winked at her and gave her knee a squeeze. “I’ll let you shower. We leave in thirty minutes.”

*

Their car called to take them to the golf course but had to wait an extra fifteen minutes when Zoey became infatuated with Tristan’s shower. It was nothing like the shower in Ruth’s apartment. For the last eleven months, she had stood under the calcium-coated two-output showerhead that spit water of various temperatures ranging from icy to scalding. Zoey hadn’t given it much thought until she experienced the luxuriousness that was this shower. Not only was it as big as some apartments, but it also had a giant, square showerhead that provided sheets of rain at a stable temperature of her choosing. She shamelessly indulged in a twenty-minute shower, one that only could’ve gotten better if Tristan had joined her. When she finally emerged from the bedroom, he was dressed in another goofy outfit. She was in her clothes from the night before, a true crime, given how clean she was.

“Oh, that just won’t do,” Tristan said, handing over her purse with one hand and holding the door open with the other. “Our first stop, the pro shop.”

This was coming from a guy who prided himself on being a graduate from the clown university look. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah,” he replied, looking her over, “I do.”

From the back of the Escalade that was taking them out of the city, Zoey compared herself to Cinderella, only instead of a ball gown, she was going to be adorned in ill-fitting neon plaid. When Tristan took her hand and began to trace sensual circles with his thumb over her knuckles, it was a small price to pay.

Luckily, she didn’t have to make the sacrifice. After entering through the front door, Tristan led her past the raised eyebrows of the country club staff and other members, with his hand surrounding hers. He smiled in return to every greeting with a nod of his head and didn’t stop until they were at the door of the pro shop. He held the door open for her, and they stepped inside.

“Good morning, Mr. Malloy!” the clerk greeted him and tried to stifle her surprise at the sight of Zoey still firmly attached to him.

“Good morning. I’d like to have my girlfriend outfitted for a day on the course, please.”

He was still polite, but there was a new air about him. Maybe he was merely adapting to his surroundings, but now he sounded more authoritative than accommodating. And he called her his girlfriend. The moment set her heart fluttering again.

“It would be my pleasure, Mr. Malloy,” the clerk said.

Tristan finally let go of her hand and said brightly, “I’m going to go see if I can switch up our tee time. Have fun.”

He gave her a quick kiss and made for the door, adding over his shoulder, “Whatever she wants. Just add it to my account.”

As the clerk profusely nodded her head and reiterated her delight at the task, Zoey took a look around the opulence and thought, Forget Cinderella, this is right out of Pretty Woman.

As she began to look through the racks, Zoey was also pleasantly surprised to find out that women’s golf clothes were a million times more fashionable than men’s.

Without Tristan in the room, the clerk’s focus turned to Zoey. She gave Zoey a look up and down. Zoey did the same, making note of her name tag—erica. The two women pasted smiles on.

“So, what are we looking for today?”

Erica’s voice was syrupy sweet and that meant only one thing. Artificial, which leads to probably bad for you.

“Something to divide my boyfriend’s attention between me and his game.” Zoey grinned. She normally wouldn’t be so liberal with the word boyfriend, but she had encountered this kind of woman before.

Erica immediately walked over to the rack and pulled out a pair of black capris, presenting them to her.

“These hide a multitude of sins,” Erica said.

Zoey was willing to give the woman the benefit of the doubt. After all, she was wearing her work outfit, which consisted of black pants and a white button-down.

“All my sins take place when I’m not wearing any clothes at all,” Zoey replied pointedly, returning to her search of the racks. “And you see how he’s dressed. I have to at least try to keep up.”

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