Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas #2)(108)

Kenny’s fists clenched at his sides. “You’re crazy, you know that? The craziest son of a bitch I ever knew.”

“That’s the way most people make their lives enjoyable, champ. Being a little crazy. I keep waiting for you to try it for yourself.”

There it was again! That insistence that he was missing something everyone else understood.

Dallie walked over to Francesca, kissed her nose, and handed her his putter. “I know putting isn’t your strong suit, honey, any more than using a driver or hitting an iron, but if you concentrate a little bit, I’m sure you can put that ball right in the cup.”

Kenny spun toward Emma. Ted was handing his putter to her—the same putter Kenny’d used to win last year’s Players Championship. As she took it, she started nibbling away at her bottom lip with that worried expression on her face that always managed to twist around his heart. Now, however, it just made him feel violent. He forced himself to go over to her. “Just relax, will you?” The words didn’t come out in the reassuring way he’d intended, but like a drill sergeant’s barked orders.

Emma’s teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Kenny, what’s going on here?”

She’d gotten real quick on the pickup when it came to his personal business, and he wasn’t surprised that she’d figured out something was up. He managed to shrug. “Sonovabitch finished me off when he suspended me. I guess now he’s just spitting out the bones.”

“You don’t want me to do this, do you?”

“I don’t have much choice.”

“Remember what I told you about female psychology and golf,” Dallie called out from the other side of the green.

Kenny tried to take a deep breath, but the air was too thick to penetrate his lungs. “You ever putted a golf ball?” he asked Emma as calmly as he could manage.

“Of course I have.”

Relief shot through him. “You have?”

“I played miniature golf several times when I was a teenager.”

He winced. A long-ago experience on some two-bit miniature golf course was worse than useless. “That’s good, then,” he managed. “You know what to do.”

On the other side of the green, Dallie was coaching Francesca. “I know it looks far, sweetheart, but it’s all downhill, so if you hit the ball too hard, it’s going to fly right by the cup.”

“I know that,” she sniffed. “Really, Dallie, it’s a simple matter of physics.”

Francesca sidled up to the ball, and Kenny was relieved to see that she was lined up so crooked she wouldn’t come within six feet of the cup.

Unfortunately, Skeet Cooper had to open his big damn mouth. “Aim a little more to the left, Francie, or that ball’s gonna end up in Tulsa.”

Francesca gave him her thousand-watt television star smile, adjusted her stance, drew back the putter and hit the ball so hard it flew down the green, past the cup, and nearly hit Kenny’s ball on the opposite fringe.

Teddy groaned. “Mommm . . .”

“Beastly game.”

Dallie lifted one eyebrow. “I thought you said it was a simple matter of physics.”

She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss on his jaw. “I’ve never been good with science.”

Francesca’s wild putt had given Kenny a reprieve, but, as his gaze flew back to Emma, he knew the match was far from over. She had such a death grip on his putter that her knuckles had turned white. Somehow he had to relax her, but he was so rigid with rage and resentment, he couldn’t speak.

Ted moved up next to her. “Let me show you how to hold the club, Lady Emma.” He peeled the putter from her fingers, then repositioned it in her hand. “You need a firm grip, but not that tight. And the important thing is to stay completely still over the ball. That’s the reason Mom can’t putt; she’s always moving around. Mainly talking.” He stepped back.

Emma needed a hell of a lot more instruction than that! Kenny strode toward her. “Since Francesca missed, you don’t have to get it in the cup on your first putt, but you have to get it close. Aim right for the cup. And hold the club a little lower. Keep your head still. Just do everything Ted said.”

He’d meant to reassure her, but her knuckles grew pale again as she resumed her death grip on his putter.

Ted shot him an annoyed look, but Kenny had too much at stake to stand idly back and allow her to screw this up for him. “Move your arms, but keep everything else completely still. The motion comes from your shoulders, do you understand? Take the club back and then move it right through the ball in one smooth motion. Got it?”

Instead of listening to him, her grip grew even tighter as she moved behind the ball. He realized he’d been thrust into his worst nightmare. He’d been forced to hand control of his life over to someone else. And not just anyone, but a domineering woman who professed to love him. It was his childhood all over again.

His eyes felt gritty as she drew back the club and tapped the ball. It barely rolled four feet before it came to a stop.

“The cup’s up there!” he exclaimed. “You’re not even close!”

“I didn’t want to hit it too hard like Francesca.”

He ground his teeth. “Francesca had a downhill putt. Yours is uphill. You need to hit an uphill harder.”