Page 11 of The Sweet Spot

“Better than Max can bat,” I say, pointing my thumb toward him.

“I don't bat. I'm a pitcher,” he says.

“I rest my case.”

In all honesty, I don't really know how good I am at golf. Do I win when I play a round with my buddies while blasting country music from the golf cart? Hell, yeah, but I've never had a partner this cute.

“We're screwed.”

She watches the next pick, and I can feel her disappointment from here.

“We'll be fine. I'm the best catcher in the league and you're the best golfer on the planet. The math works.”

“If you say so.”

She cricks her neck and refuses to speak to me for the rest of the pairings. It's okay. It takes time to like me. I know that.

With one last wave to the crowd, we head back to the dugout, and just as I try to say something to Whit, she runs past me and straight toward Larry.

Aw, my Hot Dog Homie.

The man I've been buying hot dogs for every home stand because Larry is always working and never eating. I'd like to point out, I've been doing it since before I knew he was my partner's dad.

“Dad,” she says as he wraps her up and she sinks into it, noting that all her stress seems to immediately melt away.

“You did so great out there, sweetie. I'm so proud of you,” he says, kissing her on the forehead.

“Yeah, well.” Whit peels away, bats his arm, and laughs. “I guess that explains why I didn't make the softball team in high school.”

“Uh, I don't think it had anything to do with your throwing arm. It was more to do with your team spirit.”

So she's not a team sport kind of girl. Got it.

Larry spots me and waves me in.

“JB! Hell of a pairing. You two are going to be great.”

I take his hand and shake it vigorously.

“Mr. Marlow, this is—I feel like this is fate.”

Whit stares at me. “It was literally random.”

“Still,” I say, still looking at Larry. “I feel like I should ask your blessing or something because I'm about to spend two days with your daughter on a golf course and I want you to know that my intentions are purely athletic.”

“Oh my God,” Whit says.

I continue, still ignoring her “I think the right thing to do is get your blessing before we embark on this winning journey together.”

“It's a golf tournament,” Whit says.

“It's a partnership, Whit.” I turn back to Larry.

Larry drops my hand as he laughs. “Have you ever thought about taking a week off from golf prep and going on a date, Whit?”

“Dad.”

“I'm just saying, JB's nice. He's got good energy and great taste in hot dogs.”