Page 103 of Golden Days

Her gaze meets mine in the mirror and I swallow hard, all my insecurities about needing too much too fast overwhelming me.

“Does this bother you?” I ask, letting go of her waist, albeit very reluctantly. My fingers twitch with the need to hold her again.

“What?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing, brown eyes glinting curiously.

“Me,” I say, my voice gruff.

“Why would you bother me?” She twists the cap back on the mascara tube and places it in her makeup bag before turning around to face me.

I shrug helplessly.

She takes a step closer to me and runs a finger down my chest, over the white button-up shirt I’m wearing, down to the waistband of my slacks. She gives me a flirty smile. “I wouldn’t be here if you were bothering me.”

I nod and reach out, wrapping a finger around a perfectly styled curl near her cheekbone. “It’s just—” I sigh, pressing my forehead against hers. “Things were never like this with Sabrina. I’d get yelled at for sharing the counter space or trying to initiate any sort of affection. I felt like I was fighting for every scrap of attention, and I hated every moment of it.”

Wow, that felt great to get off my chest.

“That seems like a terrible punishment for someone whose love language is physical touch,” she says, reaching up on her toes to kiss me. She takes my hands and places them on her waist. “If I ever need space from you, I’ll let you know, and it won’t be because I’m punishing you.”

I sigh and press my lips to hers in relief. She hasn’t applied any lipstick yet, and part of me is a little disappointed. I’d love to ruin it with my mouth all over hers.

She pulls back and pushes my chest with her palm. “If you keep looking at me like that, we might not make it to our date after all,” she says, turning around and opening a tube of dark red lipstick.

I take a step back and force myself to watch from afar. She sprays a mist on her face when she’s done, dabbing a little perfume to her wrist as well. Our eyes meet in the mirror again and she smiles, her dimple making a glorious appearance.

Her phone dings, breaking the moment. She glances down at it and frowns, quickly opening whatever message came in.

“Everything okay?” I ask, following her into the bedroom.

“I think so,” she says, skimming the words on her phone. “The last couple of weeks, I’ve been having so much fun, I completely forgot about the paperwork for my required hours.”

I frown. Did Bryan not submit her hours while she worked on the team? It shouldn’t be an issue.

“I—I have all the hours necessary to register for the final exam,” she says, looking up at me with a hopeful expression.

I grin, wrapping her into a hug, careful not to mess up her hair. My hands land on her naked upper back instead, and I press the pads of my fingers into her shoulder blades. “That’s great news.”

She laughs, nodding along, eyes gleaming. “Yeah. I should register soon. I believe the registration window is September through December. I was also thinking—” She stops, biting her cheek in thought.

“Tell me,” I say, taking her hands in mine and pressing our foreheads together.

“I asked Bryan for a letter of recommendation, which he was happy to give me. I was thinking I could use it as leverage and get the country club to hire me in a more permanent pro shop position. No more crappy random jobs.”

I nod, squeezing her fingers. “I can also recommend you to other golfers, if that’s something you want. Although…” I say, not wanting to press the topic too much.

“What?”

“Once you pass the test, you’ll be swamped with qualifiers. Then the actual tournament,” I remind her.

“What if I don’t pass or qualify?” she asks, voice quiet.

I dip down and catch her gaze, holding fast. “You will,” I say with conviction. I have no doubt that she’ll absolutely crush it.

“Well, until that happens,” she says, “I still need a job.”

I take a deep inhale and nod.

“You disagree?” Her eyebrow shoots up in question.