19
Even though Bethany hated golf, she was actually pretty good at it. It helped that the balls didn’t come flying at her face the way they did in tennis and most other sports.
Nate led the way to the golf course in his truck, while Bethany rode with her father in his rental SUV. When they reached it—a weather-worn sign announcing the Lost Harbor Golf Course hung on a chain from a post—her father nearly ran off the road.
“That’s it? Oh Tinkle, this is even worse than I imagined.”
She really didn’t want Nate to hear that pathetic nickname. “Can you please not—”
He interrupted, or more accurately, didn’t hear her. “It looks damn cold out there.
“We can skip the golf game,” Bethany said quickly. “How about some hot chocolate with marshmallows instead? I mean, gin? There’s a place just o
