Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(107)

Dallie pointed to the small wooden bridge that led to the eighteenth green and reminded Francesca that she couldn’t take her cart across. “That’s all right,” she replied. “Emma and I need to stretch our legs anyway, don’t we?”

Emma said nothing, and he wondered if she had any idea what was at stake right now. As she got out of the cart, the gold wedding band he’d slipped on her finger caught the sun. He remembered the expression on her face when they’d spoken their vows, an endearing combination of earnestness and apprehension that had made him want to wrap her in his arms and tell her he wouldn’t ever let anything hurt her.

Behind him, the women’s sandals tapped on the wooden bridge as they crossed to the green. Kenny heard Francesca explain that it was the last hole, and the men were tied, and after all this time the entire match was coming down to a putting contest, and wasn’t golf the most ridiculous game.

He couldn’t argue with that. He whipped off his sodden glove and shoved it in his pocket, but even though his shirt was sticking like glue to his skin, he felt his old confidence surge back as he took his putter from Ted and approached the green. Over the years he’d played in more high-pressure rounds than he could count, and he wasn’t going to let Dallie psych him out like this.

He glanced at Emma, and when he saw the way she was watching him, a rush of adrenaline shot through his veins. This was the first time she’d seen him play, and, by damn, she wasn’t going to watch him lose to a man nearly twenty years his senior.

He finally felt as if he were in control. His stomach quieted, his mind settled, and, right then, he knew he had it. Nothing on earth was going to stop him from making this putt. Dallie Beaudine was about to learn that suspending Kenny Traveler had been the biggest mistake of his life.

He smiled to himself and looked over at Dallie, who had folded his arms over his chest and was studying the position of the two balls, one at the top of the green, one at the bottom, the pin in the center.

Then Dallie grinned. “Let’s have ourselves some real fun, Kenny, and leave this match up to the ladies.”

Kenny stared at him. “What?”

“Our wives. Let’s let them finish up for us.”

If Dallie had been speaking Greek, Kenny would have understood him better. “Our wives?”

“Sure.” Dallie turned and smiled down at the women, who were standing near a live oak tree. “Francie! Lady Emma! Kenny and I are tied up here. Just to make it interesting, we’ve decided we’re going to let the two of you putt out for us. Nobody’s playing behind us, so you can take all the time you need.”

Emma’s eyes widened, and Kenny exploded. “Bull! We’re not doing any such thing!”

The acting PGA commissioner turned to stare at him, his Newman-blue eyes icy. “I’ve decided that we are.”

Kenny felt a hitch in his spine, and his stomach, which only moments before had been calm, twisted into another agonizing knot. “You son of a bitch!” he hissed.

Dallie smiled at him pleasantly, then spoke so softly only Kenny could hear. “It might not be a good idea to let your wife see you’re upset. Might make her tense, and a sensitive woman can’t putt worth a damn if she’s nervous. I’m only mentioning this because I’ve decided we’re going to let the two of them settle this whole thing between you and me.”

A feeling of dread crept through him. “You can’t mean it.”

“Oh, I mean it.” Dallie’s soft words fell over him like a poisonous vapor. “If Emma wins for you, you’re back on the tour. But if Francie wins for me, then your vacation just got extended.”

“You can’t do this!”

“I’m the PGA commissioner. I can do any damn fool thing I please. And you’d better keep your voice down because, if you let Lady Emma find out what’s really at stake here, you’re not going to have a chance in hell of finishing out the season.”

A roaring went through his head like a demonic train. Dimly, he heard Francesca chatter on about a new shampoo, and Emma say something about a conditioner.

“You’re crazy! This isn’t legal, and it sure as hell’s not ethical! I’m going to have my lawyers all over this.”

“You do that. Considering how fast our legal system works, it should only take four or five years for you to win your case.” Dallie glanced toward the women, smiled, then looked back at Kenny. “You’re the one who turned this golf round into a life-and-death match. Isn’t that why you sweated through that pretty shirt of yours before we even got to the second tee? I’m just playing your game now, Kenny, except I’m making it interesting enough to keep myself from dying of boredom.”

Dallie turned his back to him and, oozing charm with every step, walked over to Emma. “I don’t know how familiar you are with golf, Lady Emma, but the object right now is for you to get Kenny’s ball into the cup with fewer strokes than it takes Francie to get mine there. I’m sure if you just do your best, Kenny’ll be happy.”

Kenny’s voice was coldly furious as he stepped around Dallie, then turned himself so Emma couldn’t hear. “It’s not even close to a fair contest. Emma’s never held a golf club in her life. Francesca’s been around it for years.”

Dallie raised one eyebrow. “You’ve seen Francie play. Everybody in Texas knows she’s the worst golfer that ever picked up a club. Seems to me I’m the one at a disadvantage here.”