"I’m not sure, but I’m betting there’s a citizen’s committee being formed to stop it."
He didn’t really get her joke, as his attention was focused more on Jamie than Ryan by this time. He watched her warm up with a few practice swings, finally commenting, "Did you always have those muscles?"
"Which muscles are those?" Jamie inquired innocently, batting her eyes at the compliment.
"Well, all of them," he said as he looked her up and down.
"You can give Ryan most of the credit for these babies," she said, as she flexed a bicep. "She’s my trainer."
"You’re a trainer?" he asked, as he turned to look at Ryan.
"Uh-huh." She nodded, narrowing her eyes at the appreciative looks he was giving her lover.
"Well, you’ve done a wonderful job with Jamie. She looks great," he said with altogether too much enthusiasm for Ryan’s tastes.
"I’d have to say that Jamie played a small role," she commented slowly, wondering how long this assessment would continue.
They flipped a coin for honors, and when Jamie won, she placed a ball on the tee and took a practice swing. She then addressed her ball, settled her weight evenly between her feet, and pulled the club back smoothly and powerfully. She whipped the club through the hitting zone with surprising speed, driving the ball a good 275 yards, drawing it slightly to the left.
"Wow!" said Chip, clearly impressed. As a smiling Jamie walked back toward him, he reached up and squeezed her bicep, shaking his head as he said enviously, "I want a trainer."
Ryan was up next, and she, too, took a few practice swings before she felt loose. She teed the ball up and set herself. She tried to clear all of her swing thoughts from her mind, focusing only on two: Jamie’s admonition to imagine sweeping the ball off the tee, and the image of Chip’s head resting in place of the ball. She did just that, hitting it straight and true. She landed well back of Jamie’s big drive, but she was very pleased, nonetheless. "I’m glad I’m not playing," Chip admitted. "You two would beat the pants off of me!"
As Ryan got in her cart she smirked to herself.
Dream on Chip. Nobody around here is ever gonna see you with your pants off.
Chip had his own cart, and he drove up to Ryan’s ball. Hopping out, he gave her a few pointers, and both were pleased with her second shot. "Excellent, Ryan," Chip enthused. "Are you sure you’re just starting?"
"Yep. Wait ‘til you see me putt," she warned.
She hopped back in the cart, returning Jamie’s beaming grin. "You are such a stud," the small woman giggled as they drove to her ball.
"Look who beat me by 90 yards," Ryan replied, as she playfully felt Jamie’s bicep. "This reminds me," she said, giving the muscle another squeeze. "If he touches you again, will you use this to pop him one?"
Jamie turned and stared at her partner, truly amazed that her gentle kidding with Chip would upset Ryan. "Does that make you jealous, Honey?"
Ryan’s face colored a shade darker as she said, "I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever been jealous before, but if the desire to impale him on a pitching wedge is any indication, I guess I must be."
"Oh, Sweetie, don’t let that bother you. I just kid around with guys. I don’t mean anything by it."
"I know," Ryan conceded. "It just brings up some bad feelings." Images of Jack flooded her mind, and she realized that she was far from over that hurt.
"Honey, if this bothers you, I’ll plead a headache, and we’ll go home right now!"
"No, no, I’ve got to get used to it. I’m sure every guy you know would like to have a chance at you…I might as well learn how to deal with it."
Jamie laughed warmly, amused at her lover’s exaggeration. "Will it help if I tell you that I’m more attracted to you than I am to every man I’ve ever met—all rolled into one?"
"Ahhh, I guess so…but that’s a pretty scary image," Ryan mused. "I guess it helps that I get to go home with you and see you naked…and sweaty," she said with a seductive grin. "And I’ve got plans to do just that."
Jamie’s eye widened perceptibly at that comment, but they were nearing Chip’s cart, so she just patted Ryan rather primly on the leg and got out.
Hmmm, so her discomfort is about sex
, Ryan mused.
I think it’s time for a sensitive chat as soon as we hit the house
.
Since she needed to cover only about 65 yards, Jamie grabbed her wedge and lofted a delicate little shot over the guarding bunkers, landing less than a foot from the hole. She turned to Ryan and gave her a little eyebrow wiggle as she got back in the cart. Chip drove by, turning to look at Jamie suspiciously as he passed.
When they reached the green, Chip helped Ryan line up and gave her some basic advice on putting. Her first effort was way too strong. The ball shot across the slick green, nearly rolling off into a bunker. "Whoops," she remarked, as she walked across the green to try again.
"Use that same stroke," Chip told her. "You’re going uphill now, and you’ll need all of that pace."
She bent over and concentrated, trying to remember just how the previous stroke had felt. She did a reasonable job of executing, and wound up about four feet away from the hole. After Jamie told her to finish, she lipped out with her next try. Safely home with a six, Ryan was pretty pleased with her effort. Chip complimented her on her play as they watched Jamie coolly drain her short putt. She had a massive grin on her face as she admitted, "I’ve never birdied this hole."
"When did you play last?" Chip inquired.
"I played Olympic with my father in May," she said. "Why?"
"When did you put this muscle on?"
"Over the last six or seven months," she said.
"You’ve got a whole different swing, Jamie. You’re hitting the ball very crisply, and your club head speed is much greater than it used to be. Why don’t you play the blue tees and really air it out?"
"Blue tees?" she gulped.
"Yeah," Chip said. "The course is designed for the blues. You’re gonna have to harness your driver if you stick with the whites."
"Okay," she agreed hesitantly, "but I’ve only got a dozen balls on me."
"If you run out, I’ll buy you more," he promised.
Ryan stuck with the white tees, but Jamie took Chip’s advice and moved back. The long second hole played 502 from the blues and only 439 from the whites. Chip advised Jamie to keep her driver in the bag and hit a three wood. "There’s trouble if you go more than 230 off the tee," he reminded her. She followed his suggestion and hit her drive about 220 yards, actually holding back a little to keep the ball short of the bunker. "Boy, you have the most beautiful, natural draw," he said admiringly when she walked back to sit in his cart while Ryan hit her shot.
"Thanks, Chip. I need some work on my fade, though. It’s pretty tough for me to push the ball."
"How long are you down for?" he asked.
"I go back on Saturday," she said. "Why?"
"If you come over tomorrow, I’ll work with you for a while. This might be presumptuous of me, but I think you should work on your game and try to play at Cal this spring."
"Are you nuts?" she said a little louder than she should have. Ryan soled her club and shot her a look before she got set again. "Sorry," Jamie called out, more quietly this time. "Are you nuts?" she stated again, in a quieter tone.
"No, I’m not," he said calmly. "You’ve always had a great short game, Jamie. Your only real problem was length and strength. It’s hard to compete when your best drive is only 220 yards. But you nailed that sucker on one, and I could see you hold back a little with your three wood. Your iron play is so much crisper than it used to be. I really think you should give it some thought. I mean," he added, "can you imagine how proud your dad would be of you?"
That brought a little smile to her face as she considered the thought, silently musing that she could use all of the brownie points that she could rack up. "What time are you free tomorrow?" she asked with a twinkle.
While sitting in the cart waiting for Jamie to walk over to her, Ryan was rather amazed by the large numbers of people who were walking around near the course. There were access ways across the fairways and behind some of the greens, and it was obvious that the hotel was full today. People crossed their path at every available opportunity, and she found that she liked the thought of people using the course to get to their destinations.
It’s way too beautiful for just a few golfers to enjoy,
she thought.
"Can I confess a sin to you?" Jamie asked shyly as they finished the next hole.
"Yes," Ryan grinned. "Especially if I can help you commit it," she said with waggling brows.
Jamie playfully slapped her leg. "Not that kind of sin, silly." She looked at Ryan rather seriously and said, "I really like being able to kick your butt at something."
"Well, then you must be in heaven," Ryan laughed. "'Cause my ass is black and blue already."
"I feel kinda bad, though," she continued. "Like I shouldn’t feel that way about you."
"Jamie, you’re an athlete," Ryan explained. "What we do is compete, usually against ourselves, but also against others. It’s entirely natural to want to win. Didn’t you see how much pleasure I got out of dusting you going up the hills on the ride?"
"Yeah, I guess I did." she admitted. "But you know, one thing I really love about you is that you don’t get down on yourself when you don’t do something well. You don’t get all bothered when you miss a shot."
"You haven’t seen me play one of
my
games poorly," she warned. "I think your opinion of me might change a bit."
"So you do get mad when you don’t play your sports well?"
"Ehh, yeah," she nodded. "You could say that."
The fifth hole was one of the most spectacular settings that Ryan had ever seen. The hole rested atop the rocky cliffs of the cove. The green lay only 166 yards for Jamie, and with the wind at her back she could easily have reached it with a six or a seven iron. Today, as usual, the wind was blowing directly into their faces as they stood on the tee. Ryan’s sunglasses fluttered on her face as she turned her head, and her hair was blowing so wildly that she had to search for something to hold it back. Luckily Jamie had some covered rubber bands in her bag, and Ryan dug one out as Jamie consulted Chip about club selection.
"Well, I’d say it’s playing a good 205 today," he shouted over the wind and the surf. They agreed that Jamie should use a three iron and try to keep it low. She hit a ball that bored right through the wind and landed on the left center of the green, where it slowly rolled down toward the cup, which had providentially been placed, on the lower right edge of the green. She turned and gave Chip a firm hug for his advice. He looked a little flustered, but recovered enough to give her a big smile as she pulled away.
She’s gotta watch that
, Ryan thought as she watched Chip’s reaction.
She doesn’t know the power of those hugs
.
Ryan also played an iron, winding up in the right front bunker. This time Chip went in with her and showed her exactly what to do by hitting a few balls out himself. Ryan watched intently, while Jamie looked on, smiling at the way Ryan unconsciously imitated Chip as he was performing the motions. When it was her turn, she did a much better job than the previous time, beaming with pride as she softly landed the ball on the green after only one try. But the hazards of bunker play on Pebble Beach were made abundantly clear to her as she received a face full of sand on her follow through. She spat and rubbed her eyes and removed the band from her hair to shake out as much sand as possible. Jamie was still laughing when her partner finally jogged over to the cart. "I don’t get this sandy when I play beach volleyball!" Ryan complained.
"Aww…you looked so cute standing over there spitting. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever seen you do that."
"You can mark that down in your diary later, you hopeless romantic," Ryan said with a laugh.
The eighth hole always gave Jamie fits. It was a magnificent hole, but she had always had trouble getting the distance she needed. She usually played for bogey and hoped for the best. Feeling bold and confident today, she decided to go for it. She hit a nice 250-yard drive, positioning it in line with the aiming rock in the distance. Her lie afforded her a fabulous view of a deep chasm, an enticing, watery graveyard for thousands of errant balls. She knew that staying away from the chasm wasn’t her only difficulty, however. The next big problem was that the green was absolutely tiny, nearly postage stamp size. She had 185 yards left, and she chose to go with a four iron, hoping to hit it low and drive it hard into the green. Chip drove by and suggested that she play it safe. "Play left and hope for a great putt, Jamie. I don’t think you can knock down a four iron in this wind." He left her to drive closer to the green to watch the balls land in case of trouble. As Jamie walked back to her clubs, Ryan could see the conflicting emotions playing across her face.
"What’s wrong, Babe?" she asked.
"I want to go for it, but I don’t want to be stupid," she admitted.
"What will it cost you if you go in the drink?"
"Two strokes and a ball," she replied.