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My nose scrunches with a cringe as I think back on my first encounter with him. That day, Levi let me ramble on. He didn’t seem annoyed or angry, but he didn’t seem charmed either. The man was mostly aloof—detached, even. Getting to see him on a regular basis over the last year has not changed much of my perspective of him. He is incredible at what he does but severely lacks a personality. And social skills. And friends.
Imagine my surprise as I realize that Levi is not alone today. He’s golfing with an older gentleman who looks like he could be his dad. My cart inches closer to them and I put on my nicest customer service smile, teeth on full display.
“Gentlemen, good afternoon,” I say, coming to a stop on the path.
Levi looks up with a ghost of a smile on his face and for a moment I feel thrown off-kilter. The man can smile?
He sobers up quickly when he realizes it’s me, which brings on a wave of disappointment. Am I the problem? Does he not like me?
The older man looks to be in his sixties, with salt and pepper hair and the confidence of someone important. He looks kind of familiar, like I’ve seen him before, maybe on TV? Or maybe he’s another famous golfer whose picture is somewhere on the restaurant’s wall.
“A good afternoon, indeed,” the older man says with a bright smile. It’s infectious and I can’t help but grin back, my own smile more genuine this time.
“May I interest you in any drinks or snacks?”
“We’re fine,” Levi grumbles while his friend says, “I would love a beer, please.”
“Sam Adams?” I say, hopping out of the cart and opening up the cooler.
“That sounds perfect, my dear.”
As I dig around for the beer, I can’t help but overhear what he’s telling Levi. “I think you should see this pro-am as an opportunity, not a chore. It’s for a good cause, after all.”
“You already know how I feel about this,” he says in a low, gravelly tone.
My ears perk up. Did he say pro-am? As in, professionals and amateur players teaming up? At our club? That has me straightening up as I hand the cold beer to the man, who gives me a hundred dollar bill. I stare at it for a moment, debating if I should interrupt the conversation to tell him I don’t have change for that large of a bill. I decide to wait for a good lull in conversation, but they keep going.
“I know you generally don’t like strangers, Levi, but you need to get out more. You’re like a hermit. A very rich hermit; one that never comes out of his mansion,” the man says with a scowl.
“I’m not a hermit,” Levi growls.
“Really? Ever since your divorce you don’t even do anything anymore. Do you have any hobbies? At least Sabrina was dragging you out of the house.”
“Let’s not talk about that, please,” he says, bringing his green eyes to me. His eyebrows pull down and it makes his face look sharper. I try not to roll my eyes, but must he always look so miserable when I’m around?
The older man turns back to me, most likely having forgotten I was standing there. I smile again and focus on him rather than the grumpy millionaire next to him.
“My apologies, sir, but I don’t have change for a hundred-dollar bill,” I tell him, handing it back. He doesn’t take it.
He looks down at it with a smile on his lips, then says, “The change is for you, my dear.”
Oh. I look down at the bill, dumbfounded. That’s quite the tip for a $14 beer.
“I—um.” I clear my throat and fidget with the bill. “Thank you, sir.”
“Of course, thank you for stopping by,” he says.
I look back up at both of them and realize this is my cue to leave. I nod and smile eagerly, beelining it for my cart. As I drive away, I look back once and find Levi’s assessing eyes on me.
I attribute the goosebumps on my arms to the light breeze and try to ignore the strange feeling making my insides flutter.
CHAPTER TWO
Levi
I watch the cart girl drive away, her long ponytail swishing in the wind. Rhodes is talking to me, but his words don’t register until he snaps his fingers in front of my face and repeats himself.
“Do I need to drag you to Palm Beach myself?” he asks, looking at me expectantly.
