Page 14 of Unexpected Shot
Oh this is going to be good.
Fuck.
Off.
I swear to everything holy and my brand new set of irons, this woman is going to be the death of me.
Shelby Lynn, I need you to quit hating me and think rationally about this for five fucking seconds.
Ooooo. You middle named me. I’m trembling in fear.
Shelby, for the love of God, we have to play together. As a team. Which means we have to get along. And interviews? You are the worst media-trained golfer on either tour.
We really don’t. And no I’m not. Not by far. So thanks for the offer, or whatever this was, but I’m good.
“Fuck!” I yell out to no one. I can’t take her anymore. If there’s one thing I know about Shelby LeBlanc, it’s that of all the qualities she has that she excels at—which I notice more than I’d ever admit to anyone—the woman is stubborn. Actually, stubborn isn’t a strong enough word. Unyielding. Dogged. Will dig in her heels over the smallest things or die on the biggest hills, even if she knows she’s going to go down with the ship.
And she’s a complete pain in my ass.
Which is why I have to change the play right now. She’ll continue to argue with me over text until I concede. Or say something that’ll piss her off so badly she’ll block my number for a few days. She’s done that more times than I can count.
So, I do the only thing I can think of.
I grab a hoodie, snag my keys from my kitchen counter, andjump into Sophia—my souped-up golf cart—to make the hundred-yard drive across property lines to Shelby’s house.
Now she’ll have to talk to me. Or slam the door in my face. The second one is entirely more likely than the first.
The night was already chilly, but I’m shivering as I make the short drive across my backyard. I sometimes forget it’s February, and even though we’re in Nashville, temperatures dropping into the thirties at night isn’t uncommon. If I was smart, I would’ve changed out of the gym shorts I put on when I got back from Ethan’s, but I didn’t think that far ahead. It’s like my brain was only focused on one thing.
Dealing with Shelby usually does that to me.
The woman is a thorn in my side. Has been since the first time Gabi brought her to the house for a playdate. Being the older brother, I wanted nothing to do with my sister, her friends, or whatever dolls they were playing with.
Except Shelby wasn’t playing with dolls. Or even playing with Gabi and their other friend, Hannah.
My face forms a small smile as the wind hits me, remembering back to the first time I met the girl who would forever plague me.
“What are you doing?”
Mom told me I had to stay away from Gabi and her friends. Fine by me. I want to be outside anyway. That’s where my new clubs are, and I haven’t practiced today.
I walked into the garage, where I keep them, but they weren’t there. I know I put them away. Dad was serious when he said I had to take care of them, so I wipe them down and cover them up every night.
I walked out of my garage and into my back yard, which is where I see finally them. But they aren’t in my neon golf bag. They’re being used.
By a girl.
“Hey!” I scream, running across the yard and pulling the iron from her grip. “Those are mine!”
I didn’t mean to yell at her that loud, but I’m mad. She could break them. Does she even know how to use them?
I thought I’d scare her. I can be pretty frightening when I want to be. I know when I’ve yelled at Gabi like that before, I’ve made her cry. I did feel bad about that. I don’t want to make people cry.
Only this girl isn’t crying. She’s standing with her hands on her hips, my club now laying on the ground, and I think she wants to fight me.
“Who are you?”
Did she just ask me that? “I’m Beau. I live here. And those are my clubs.”
