Once Upon a Christmas (11 page)

A few minutes later, she plunked her golf bag on the green
beside Brad’s.

Being apart from her hadn’t affected his sense of style
any—not if his neatly pressed khaki shorts and polo shirt were anything to go
by. Unlike some men, Brad took pride in dressing well and looking good, from
his expensive haircut to his discreetly manicured fingernails. He looked as
perfect as ever—almost, Holly thought suddenly, a little
too
polished.
All at once, one of the qualities that had first attracted her to him
seemed…well, a little shallow.

Determinedly, she pushed away that disloyal thought. Where
had that come from, anyway? She’d probably been influenced by living with Sam.
She’d lay bets Sam had spent more time arranging that Chinese takeout dinner
for her than getting himself ready for it. Afterward, he’d gotten pretty grimy
retrieving her Christmas decorations from the back of the closet, too. The man
just didn’t care about tidiness. Obviously, his attitude was rubbing off on her
now, too.

She rose on tiptoes. “Hi, Brad!”

He was surprised as all get out to see her there. She could
tell by the way he leaned forward, raising his sunglasses to get a better look.

“Holly! What in the world are
you
doing here?”

“Thomas asked me to fill in for him. An, umm, emergency
came up at the office.”

Holly
was the emergency. She’d cornered Brad’s
partner early that morning to ask if he’d let her take his place in his regular
Wednesday golf game with Brad. Asking nicely, cajoling, and pleading had no
effect on him, but Holly had finally gotten him to agree by promising to sell
Thomas her fancy new golf clubs if things didn’t go her way. Since she felt
fairly confident Brad would respond to a reasonable conversation, it was a bet
she’d been willing to make.

Brad frowned. “But you hate golf. You always refused to
go with me.” He shot a suspicious glance at her golf clubs. “You told
me the grass they use on the fairway makes you sneeze.”

“Guilty. I know I said all those things. But, Brad…I’m
turning over a new leaf.” Holly moved closer to him, watching as his gaze
dipped automatically to the heart–shaped neckline of her dress. “When you
left, I realized I was partly to blame for the problems between us, too. I
spent so much time working, I guess I neglected you.”

A measure of skepticism returned to his expression—not that
she could blame him. That speech was a little over the top. Holly figured it
was necessary to concede something—sort of a good faith gesture to open their
negotiations.

“I want to share your interests, Brad. Like golf. So,
here I am!” She nodded at her new golf bag.

“Whose is that, anyway?”

“It’s mine. I bought it last weekend.”

She’d chosen well, too, judging by his expression. It had
been the priciest bag in the store, highly recommended by the salesperson. She’d
wanted to impress her sincerity upon Brad, and it looked as if it had worked.
He was all but drooling on the expensive leather.

“Why? Just in case a golf emergency arose?”

Whoops, he had her there. She blustered through it. “Yes.
And since you’re here, and I’m here, and Thomas isn’t here, we might as well
get started. Otherwise, you’ll miss your tee time.”

The first two holes went pretty quickly. Holly’s shots were
a little wide, but she thought she was doing well for a beginner. Brad wasn’t
quite as encouraging, but by the time they reached the third hole, he’d stopped
telling her she was throwing off his entire game. She took that as a hopeful
sign.

“It sure is nice and peaceful out here,” she
observed as Brad lined up his next swing. “I don’t even see anybody else
playing nearby, do you?”

He grunted.

She went on. “I was just thinking…this would be a
perfect place for a private conversation. Take us, for instance—we have lots to
talk about.”

He groaned. “You set me up, didn’t you?”

Trying to look innocent, Holly took her time selecting a
driver from her golf bag. “What’s wrong with wanting to talk to you? I
deserve an explanation for your leaving, Brad. Something more than a line about
how you ‘need your space.’”

She pulled out a club. A wood, or maybe it was an iron. She
could never remember all the different names. She tried a practice swing with
it, to give Brad time to respond.

“I knew it. This
is
a trap.” He gave her a
dark look, hefted his bag over his shoulder, and set out after his ball.

Holly stopped practicing her swing and took up the stance
the guy at the pro shop had showed her. Aiming carefully, she whacked the ball
before Brad could leave her behind.

It was a beautiful shot. It sailed cleanly into the air,
higher than any shot she’d made so far, straight toward the next hole.
Unfortunately, Brad’s body was directly in the line of fire.

“Brad, look out!”

Holly was too far away to actually see the ball hit him, but
she could tell when it happened, because he staggered backward a bit. Clutching
his shoulder, he swiveled to face her. She could practically feel the force of
his glare as he stared up the fairway.

Amazingly, though, when Holly finally reached him, Brad was
smiling. As she dropped her golf bag on the grass and leaned on her club to
rest up for the next shot, he tapped his pencil on the scorecard in a cheerful
manner that was exactly the opposite of what she expected.

“That’s a penalty stroke for you. You’re twelve over
par.”

Apparently a bruised shoulder was okay, as long as it helped
him win the game. She hadn’t realized Brad was so competitive.

“I’m sorry. That one just got away from me,” Holly
apologized, pantomiming the shot with her driver.

Brad glanced at her, then looked more closely. “No
wonder that shot went wild, Holly. You’re using a nine iron.”

She raised the driver and looked at its thick, sharply
angled head. “I know. I like this one. It’s got a little heft to it.”

It seemed logical that a bigger club might give her a bit of
an advantage, since her opponent was bigger, stronger, and more experienced at
the game. A look at Brad’s face told her she’d reasoned wrong. Holly shrugged.

“You’ll just have to teach me how to play, then.”
She plucked her errant ball from his hand and put it back in play. “Next
time, I’ll be better.”

Brad shook his head. “There’s not going to be a next
time. Golfing with you isn’t an experience I want to repeat. And you can’t use
a tee here.”

He frowned as she scooped up the tee she’d been about to
plant on the green.

“I forgot,” she muttered, tightening her grip on her
golf club instead. Returning to the subject at hand, she added, “We need
some shared interests, Brad. How are we supposed to have a relationship, if we
never spend any time together? A good relationship doesn’t just happen, you
know. Both people have to work at it.”

His lips tightened. “You know I hate talking about this
relationship stuff.”

He was gazing straight at her, but Holly couldn’t gauge a
thing from his expression because of those stupid sunglasses. She stared back
at him expectantly.

He sighed. “I don’t want a relationship that needs
working at. If it needs so damn much work, maybe it’s just wrong.”

This wasn’t what she’d expected. “That’s not true.”

Brad gave a mean little laugh. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. I’m
talking to the expert, aren’t I? Far be it for me to second guess Holly
Aldridge, the relationship expert.”

The sarcasm in his tone hurt. “That’s not fair, and you
know it.”

She could hardly believe what she was hearing. Didn’t he
care about salvaging things between them? If he didn’t, even the neat, thorough
list she’d prepared would be no help.

Brad put his arms around her shoulders and shook his head.
When he spoke, his voice was gentle. “I’m sorry. But you keep pushing me
to it. I told you this isn’t a good time for me. I’m still adjusting to having
my space.”

He kneaded the tense muscles in her shoulders, then dropped
his hands. He peered into her face. “Better now?”

Holly nodded, feeling disgruntled. “I guess so.”

“Good. Let’s get on with the game, then.”

He rubbed his hands together and devoted his attention to
choosing a driver for his next shot. Beside him, Holly did her best to regroup.
She should have anticipated Brad’s reluctance to discuss their relationship,
but she hadn’t.

She waited until they’d reached the back nine—and Brad was ahead
of her by twenty–four strokes—before trying again.

“I thought things were going really well between us,”
she ventured as they walked together toward the tenth hole. As proof, she
offered, “In the whole year we lived together, we never had a single disagreement.
Plus, we had such a nice routine going, just like an old married couple.”

Liking the sound of that, she smiled. It might have been an
old-fashioned viewpoint, but growing old together with somebody you loved
sounded like a pretty good future to her.

“Yeah,” Brad muttered. “Just like an old
married couple.”

“You don’t sound happy about that.” She raised her
eyebrows. “I thought—”

He stopped her with an irritated look. “Let’s talk
about this some other time. I can’t concentrate with you yammering at me.”

Okay. A logical appeal wasn’t working. She’d have to move on
to the next phase of her plan—an emotional appeal. Maybe Brad would respond
better to a non–conversational approach. And if that failed, there was always
the third and final phase of her plan—seduction. Although Holly didn’t think
she’d have to resort to such drastic measures.

Beside her, Brad frowned at the flag fluttering over the
next hole. Straightening his legs, he took his next shot. He appeared to be
doing an excellent job of pretending she wasn’t there. She might have been
invisible for all the attention he was paying to her. The realization didn’t do
her feminine ego any favors.

In the distance, the buzzing sound of an engine drifted over
the hills between them and the clubhouse. It sounded like somebody mowing the
grass, although that couldn’t be, not while there were players on the course.
Curious, Holly shaded her eyes with her hand and looked for the source of the
sound.

A couple of minutes later she saw it—an aqua–colored golf cart,
zooming straight down the path toward them. A lone man hunched over the
steering wheel, driving at a speed that made the cart waver from side to side.
The vibrant–colored canopied top shimmied and snapped in the breeze as the cart
came closer.

Brad squinted at it. “I didn’t know those things could
go that fast,” he remarked, frowning. “Must be some hot–rod kid—”

His words faded when the cart squealed to a stop a few feet
from them. The driver got out.

“Sam! What are you doing here?”

Feeling ridiculously glad for the interruption in her game,
Holly waved for him to come nearer. She couldn’t help it. It was wonderful to
see a friendly face looking back at her for a change. Obligingly, Sam strode
across the green, with more casual ease than should have been strictly possible
for a man his size. Brad, only as tall as Holly, was dwarfed beside him.

Sam shook his hand. “Hi, Doc. How’s the game?”

“Fine, thanks.” Surreptitiously, Brad slid the
scorecard in his shorts pocket with his free hand. “Holly’s having a little
trouble, though.”

Sam turned to her. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I saw
that drive you made back there. You looked good.”

The appreciative way his gaze roved over her new dress made
Holly wonder if it was really her golf form he was talking about. At the
moment, though, she didn’t care. She felt like soaking up his praise like a
flower basking in sunshine.

“Thanks.” She couldn’t resist an I–told–you–so
look at Brad before turning back to Sam. “Would you like to join us? There’s
always room for one more….”

Brad snickered and elbowed Sam in the ribs, man–to–man
style. “She’s still got a lot to learn about the game,” he said.
Turning to Holly, he explained, “You can’t add players midway through the
course. Your friend here…”

“Sam,” the friend in question supplied helpfully.

“That’s right. I remember. Your friend Sam, here, will
just have to wait for another time to play with you, Holly.”

Sam waggled his eyebrows at her, turning Brad’s comment into
the most ribald of double–entendres. He heaved a mock sigh. “Okay. I guess
I’ll play with you later, Holly.”

They both laughed. It was hard to remain serious with Sam
around, Holly was discovering.

Brad wasn’t laughing—he was staring impatiently at the next
hole. He cleared his throat. “Well, Sam, we’ve got a game to finish here,
so if there’s nothing else…”

“Actually, there is. I came out to get you, Holly.
There’s an emergency situation you’ve got to take care of.”

She sighed. She might have known the instant she actually
took a personal day—her first all year—a crisis would come up. She turned to
grab her golf bag, but Sam had already thrown it over his back and was carrying
it to the cart.

“I’m sorry, Brad. I’ve got to go.”

He only shrugged. He’d experienced enough work–related
emergencies himself to know that she had no choice but to leave. It was a
familiar pattern between them. Even when they’d been living together, they’d
seldom had the same days free from work.

“Let’s get together in a few days,” she suggested.
“Is Francie’s okay with you?”

Waiting for his answer, she crossed her fingers. Brad couldn’t
refuse dinner with her at the restaurant where they’d had their first date,
could he? It was the linchpin of the second phase of her plan.

At least in this instance, he didn’t disappoint. “Call
my office. We’ll arrange a time.”

“Okay.” With one last backward glance—and a sigh
for the failed first phase of her plan—Holly headed for the golf cart where Sam
waited for her.