I hadn’t known how to reply to Woods’s advice, but it wouldn’t stop replaying in my head. He only beat me by twelve strokes on the front nine, and we were headed into the back nine when the drink cart came over the hill. Woods noticed it, too, and glanced back at me. He didn’t say anything, but I could see him silently reminding me of what he had said.
Bethy slowed down and parked the cart. She glanced at me nervously as she stepped down and walked our way.
“’Morning, Bethy. Heard you felt bad yesterday and Darla sent you home. Hope you’re better today,” Woods said as she approached.
Bethy’s eyes shifted to me again, then quickly back to Woods. “I’m better today. Thanks,” she replied. “Can I get y’all a drink?” Her focus was on Woods.
“Yeah, I’ll take a Gatorade. Blue, if you have it,” he replied.
Bethy looked over at me. I wanted to hold her attention, but I didn’t want to make her any more nervous than she obviously already was. “Water is fine,” I replied.
She nodded and headed back to the cart. I followed her, not glancing back at Woods to see his expression. I wanted to ask what was wrong yesterday, but I didn’t want to do that in front of Woods.
She opened the back cooler, then jumped when she saw I had followed her. “Oh,” she gasped, and her cheeks turned pink. “I didn’t hear you behind me.”
I closed the space between us until we were almost touching. “What was wrong yesterday? Are you well enough to be working today?” This was why I’d followed her for so long. No one checked up on her and made sure she was OK. Did anyone fucking take care of her yesterday? Or was she just home sick by herself?
“I’m fine,” she said, then paused and chewed on her bottom lip like she wanted to say more. “I, uh, wasn’t really sick. I just found out something that sent my emotions into a bit of a spin. I needed some alone time to think.”
“What did you find out?” I asked, knowing I was probably stepping over the line she’d drawn.
She glanced over my shoulder at Woods, then looked up at me. “This isn’t the place to talk about it.”
Well, shit. So she would tell me if we weren’t at her place of business? I was half tempted to ask Woods to dismiss her for the day so I could find out what was going on, but she’d be upset. I had pushed her away once already.
“Here.” She handed me the water and stepped around me to give Woods his Gatorade.
I watched her walk off. I would be lying if I didn’t admit to watching her ass like a starving man. She filled out those shorts really, really well.
“Got nine holes left for me to smoke you,” Woods called out when I didn’t make a move to return.
Bethy turned around and headed back to the cart. She did good things for the shirt she was wearing, too. Shit. I was getting nowhere with getting over her.
“I have some guys on seven and three I need to serve,” she said, climbing up into the cart.
“You’re OK today, then?” I needed some kind of reassurance that she wasn’t about to jump off a cliff. She had too much already haunting her; she didn’t need something new fucking her up.
She smiled, and it was a real smile. Not one of those forced ones I had seen enough of lately. “I’m good. I’m actually better than I’ve been in a very long time.” And then she drove off.
She was better than she’d been in a long time. And I was living in my own personal hell. The one where I got to watch Bethy move on with life without me in it. What would I do when she started dating again? If she got into a serious relationship? This was bad enough.
Bethy
I was as prepared as I could be for this. Della had made sure I knew Tripp was bringing London to the barbecue and that they had been seeing each other. That was fine. I was going to be fine. I could deal with this. Aunt Darla was right—he would have left me again for someone like London eventually. He told me he loved me and within three months was dating someone else. If he’d been sleeping around, having one-night stands, I would have handled it better. But seeing the same girl, the one he was in a relationship with in high school, proved Aunt Darla’s point. He wasn’t in love with me. If he was, he wouldn’t be moving on so fast.
I locked the door to my car and stuck my keys into my purse before heading for the Kerringtons’ house. I could smell the barbecue in the breeze. This evening would be fun. My friends were here. And I was a new person.
Della opened the door almost immediately after I rang the bell. She was glowing and more beautiful than normal. When she hugged me, I was a little surprised, but I returned her embrace.
“He’s here. Outside with the guys. She’s glued to his side. Come into the kitchen with us girls,” she whispered in my ear.
I felt bad that my friends thought they had to protect me from Tripp and his date. I had been handled as fragile for too long now. No more. I didn’t need their worry or pity. “I’m good. Heck, I’ll go have drinks with them outside to prove my point,” I said good-naturedly.
Della studied my face a moment and apparently believed me, because she seemed relieved. “Good. Blaire’s mixing margaritas. Let’s go gossip. Give me your purse, and I’ll stick it in the hall closet,” she said, holding out her hand.
I gave her my purse and let her put it away while I made my way to the kitchen. Blaire was standing with an apron on over her shorts and blouse, with limes in her hands, which she was squeezing into the blender. Her eyes met mine as I walked into the room, and she grinned. “Good to see your face,” she said.