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Levi frowns down at me but eventually nods and let’s go of my bicep. I immediately miss the small contact but force myself to focus on the task at hand.
Golf, damn it.
CHAPTER TEN
Levi
Despite Hazel not giving me a definitive answer about the pro-am, I still have hope that I can persuade her.
Besides, she’s one of the best caddies I’ve worked with, so I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to request she be assigned to me not just for today, but for the rest of the week.
However, I didn’t expect her to be so distracting. Every touch as she hands me a new club turns lingering. I can’t tell if one of us is turning the chemistry up on purpose, or which of us it is. It feels like it might be both, but that’s ridiculous.
Just because a girl smiles at you, that doesn’t mean she wants you. Besides, she has a boyfriend. I need to shut whatever attraction is simmering in my gut way the fuck down.
I’m distracted every time she crouches down to look at the slope of the green, and it’s starting to reflect poorly on my performance. Instead of focusing on her suggestions, my attention drops to her perfect ass and the way her skirt rides up.
I shake myself out of it, but Ezra’s knowing look tells me my thoughts are fully on display. I peek at Rosie, making sure she doesn't notice, but she’s too busy cleaning Ezra’s putter.
When Hazel stands up and looks at me expectantly, I nearly trip over my own two feet. Jesus, get a grip, Levi.
“I’d aim a little left if I were you,” she says, and I suspect it’s not the first time she’s said it.
“Sorry, right. I’ll take the pitching wedge—" I start, but immediately stop when I see her frowning and looking at me like I’m crazy.
“Interesting tactic, but I highly recommend you use the putter,” she says, rolling her lips inward so she doesn’t laugh at me.
I blush and clear my throat. “Right. Putter. That’s what I meant, clearly.” I chuckle nervously.
“Although, I’d like to see you try the pitching wedge. That could be entertaining,” she says, raising her eyebrows at me as she hands the putter over.
Was that real or did I imagine it? I swallow hard as I watch her walk up to the flag, ready to pull it out as soon as I hit the ball. Her legs have a slight pink tint from being in the sun all week, and I wonder if that will make her freckles more noticeable.
When I hit the ball, recalling her suggestion that I should aim left, it rolls perfectly and lands in the hole.
Another birdie.
“Beautiful,” Ezra says, clapping.
Rosie whoops and Hazel gives me a wide grin.
And I—I’m so fucked.
Later, when we sit down for dinner, Ezra gives me a contemplative look.
“What?” I ask. “You’ve had this thinking face on all day.”
“I think you should ask Hazel out,” he says, clasping his hands together on the table.
I laugh, thinking that he’s joking.
He’s not.
“You’re serious?” I ask.
He looks over at Rosie, who’s now waitressing after a whole day of caddying. I can’t help but think that management here is either really bad at scheduling or they are severely short-staffed as the manager said.
She sees us and smiles, waving that she’ll be right with us.
