Page 5 of Iron

“Not on a hole that punishes greed,” I reply, shaking my head. I won’t get an eagle on this one.

“Huh,” he says, like he is surprised. “Figured a guy your size would take the swing just to show he can.”

I glance over at him. “A guy my size,” I repeat.

“You know what I mean.” He looks away, stares at the flag on the pole instead of at me. “Big hitter. Ego shots.”

“I’ve got twenty years on you out here,” I growl. His face flushes bright pink at the growl. Or maybe it’s the words. I don’t stop to think about that. “I left my ego behind before you were out of diapers.” Why am I still talking? “You play the numbers. Safe when the hole and wind tell you to. Same reason I choked down on ten instead of forcing it.” He flinches, but I’m on a roll. “Which you noticed.”

He glances at me then, quickly, like he didn’t think I saw. “Yeah. I noticed.”

Something about his flat tone catches me up short, and I finally shut up. We keep walking to the crest where the fairway falls away to the green. The group ahead is still working on their putts, so we stop. Nothing more we can do but stand here and wait. The wind is whipping the pin a bit. TJ is close enough that I can smell his sunscreen and something else, clean and spicy, and I hate that I smell it.

“You were watching me hit,” I finally say. Not a question.

“I was watching the wind,” he says fast. Too fast.

“Uh, huh.”

He huffs something that isn’t a laugh, and for a moment his mask slips. He glances at my chest, then looks away again. I can’t tell if it’s nerves or the same thing I’m trying not to feel, standing this close to him. He suddenly feels vulnerable, showing me a different person. If we were alone on this fairway, I’d take a step and close that distance. Watch that chin tilt up, and his face burn with heat. A flare of protectiveness flashes over me.

Stephen clears his throat. “Green’s clear.”

TJ jumps and steps back quickly. I watch him go as I really can’t help myself and don’t even try. I want to see how he handles a blind approach. That’s all.

Uh, huh.

Hole seventeen is the hole where the round can be won or lost. I’m now fourteen under and TJ is twelve. Two shots. Not enough to stop caring.

This hole is a long par five. Most golfers choose the safe path: straight down the fairway to the start of the curve, another shot to the fairway in front of the green, a wedge up onto it and two putts to get it in. I want four, at most. My swing can reach the green in two, but only if the initial drive threads through the pines on the right, where the fairway curves around the stand of trees. The grass is just peeking through the trunks.

TJ’s been waiting for me to go first since the tenth.

“Going for it in two?” TJ asks, watching me size up the fairway.

“Thinking about it,” I reply evenly.

“You’d have to go over the pines.” He says it like a dare.

“I'm aware of the pines, TJ,” like he’s a child.

“Just checking.” He’s actually grinning now, like he’s decided watching me fail would be more fun than watching me succeed. “I’d hate for you to lay up like an old man and let me catch you.”

I should ignore that. I don't.

“You planning on going for it yourself?” I ask, staring him in the eyes. Those pretty eyes.

“Damn right I am.”

“Even after you've been in the trees twice today?”

His grin thins, his mouth tightening at the corner. “Once. And I made par out of it.”

“Barely.”

“Scared, Daddy?”

I step in closer, close enough that Caleb actually stops talking mid-sentence. “Careful,” I say, low enough that it’s just for his ears. “Keep calling me that and I might start living up to it.”