Worth the Drive (28 page)

Most days she got up when
Darío
did and after breakfast at the hotel
where
she made sure to drink her dreaded milk
, they’
d go to the course together. She sat in the stands at the practice
range, sometimes taking a book, sometimes writing in a journalist’s notebook, sometimes just watching
Darío
.

He’d look up every so often, making sure she was okay, that the heat – or rain, or cold – wasn’t bothering her. She’d sit on the top row, usually in a corner, distanc
ing herself from the others who
came to watch the players practice. She’d become quite tan from the days in the sun, though
she was
careful never to burn.

He gave
her new Chapsticks all the time, but she always seemed to forget them when they left for the course. One night at dinner, trying to find something in her purse, she’d emptied the contents on the table, only to have several tubes of lip balm scatter across to
Darío
.

In the stands, she was like a beacon to
Darío
, calling to him on the ground. As if she were a golden angel, her white hair her halo, her presence hovering over
Darío
in a kind of peaceful blessing.

And that’s how he felt with her watching over him. Peaceful. Blessed.

He noticed he didn’t search out the galleries as much as he used to. Only to find her, which was never difficult. She was normally alone, walking ahead, her eyes more times than not on him. Sometimes she’d walk with the wife of the player he was paired with, but usually only if that woman made the first overture. She attracted men, but with a smile and a kind word or two, separated from them and walked the course alone during
Darío
’s rounds.

If only he could do something about her sleeping in a different room.

The first week in Denver
, it
seemed like a fluke that there’d been an open room. The next week, in Flint, he’d asked at the desk when they’d arrived, more for show than actually wanting there to be an available room. He was taken aback when the hotel manager moved heaven and earth to find another room for his “honored guest” Mr.
Luna
. Too bad none of the big guns were playing that week or
Darío
was sure his stature would have slipped a few notches from honored guest to “one of those golfers”.

He’d waited for Katie to jump in with a “No, no, don’t go to any trouble. One room will be fine.” But she hadn’t. So he’d kept silent as well. And slept alone again since the night she’d left his room in Texas.

After watching
her
walk the course in front of him all day, gazing at her graceful sway, he could barely stand to sit across the table from her at dinner. The need to hold her again,
to
kiss her was unbearable. She’d smile her brilliant white smile at something he’d say, and he’d nearly lose it. The steel control he used on the course was coming in handy off the course as well.

But, he didn’t want to pressure her. It was enough that she’d agreed to come on the road with him, let them get to know each other so they could make the best decisions for their child as possible. Well, not enough, but it was what he’d asked for. The deal they’d made.

He was foolish enough to believe that once on the road, Katie would want to resume their physical relationship. That after leaving the Copper Country, leaving memories of her life with Ron, her thoughts would be only of
Darío
. Of that passionate night they’d shared. Of the
intense release
they’d brought each other to.

It had been good for her, hadn’t it?

Darío
refused to believe that anything so satisfying to him could have been one-sided. But then
, he figured
all men thought that at
one time or another
.

The third week out, in Chicago where the year’s last major was being played,
Darío
was astonished to find out that he’d been put in a suite. So there was no need for Katie to get her own room – and there were none to be had anyway – but she did have her own bedroom. The
management of the hotel was catering to past major winners by giving them suites instead of regular rooms. A nice perk that would have been appreciated any other time. But not this week.

Darío
seriously thought about trading in his Claret Jug for one night in the same room – the same bed – with Katie.

The suite was beautiful. Huge. The bedrooms seemed miles apart. And that was not a good thing to Katie. She was happy to finally be sharing rooms – sort of – with
Darío
.

She enjoyed the time they spent together. He was a fascinating man. Very well-read, which surprised Katie. She knew she shouldn’t generalize, but she’d figured
Darío
for the typical jock.

Never had she and Ron spent the entire time over dinner discussing the religious undertones of
Moby Dick
. Katie was fairly certain Ron had never even read
Moby Dick
let alone picked up on undertones.

Darío
brushed aside her admiration of his reading list. “There is much time on flights,
or waiting for rain delays. T
here is always time to kill,” he’d said.

That was true, but she now knew from experience that most of the golfers spent that time playing poker, chasing girls and making investment deals with their brokers on their ever-present
smartphones and tablets
.

That was another thing.
Darío
didn’t have a
bunch of gadgets
, just a basic cell phone to keep in contact with his mother. Nor did he have
an agent, manager, coach and trainer
who
traveled with him. Binky traveled separately, as most of the caddies did, to each event.
Darío
made one call each week to his manager back in Spain to check on flight arrangements and if there were any changes
Darío
should know about. Katie didn’t ask about the details of her traveling with
Darío
. It seemed the man
ager handled that and there was
plane
reservation information
waiting for them both at their hotel for their next stop.

Darío
didn’t have an entourage as many of the players
of
his caliber did. Well, Katie supposed, he did now…her.

The last major of the year.
Darío
had missed the cut at the Masters. Finished top twenty at the U.S. Open. Top ten at the British Open. Katie knew he had high hopes for the PGA Championship. He didn’t voice them out loud, but there was an intensity about him this week that hadn’t been there the previous weeks. She wasn’t surprised to realize she’d learned to read him so well in so short a time. That’s what happened when you were together nearly 24-7.

Not quite around the clock. There were the hours she slept alone.

In a perverse way, she was slightly ticked at
Darío
for not pressuring her. Not making a bigger deal about her having her own room. Passive aggressive
thinking on her part
, she knew. If she wanted to sleep with the man, she should just come out and tell him so. But she’d never been able to do that
–at least not while sober
. Lizzie or Alison could. Heck, Lizzie had come out and done just that last year, telling
Finn
she wanted a summer fling with him.

The one night with Darîo had been different–she’d never expected to see him again. And even then it had taken all her courage. Before that, she’d never had to be the aggressor, the one who moved relationships along.

She’d always depended on the men in her life to do that. And they had, right down to the day Ron left her.

Too bad
Darío
was a gentleman.

She accompanied him during his final practice round on Wednesday. The crowd was huge, even for a practice round day, with it being a major. But the gallery around
Darío
was not very
large. He was playing with two little-known players
who mainly played on the European Tour
– one Spanish
and
one from Argentina – and most of the crowd elected to follow pairings with bigger names.

The players spoke Spanish to each other, the caddies content to keep their own conversations as they measured greens with their strides, marking everything in their yardage books. At each green they
players
would spend several minutes putting tees as markers where the different pin placements would be on each day and chipping and putting multiple balls at each target. It was an organized mess with balls whizzing past each other on the green as one p
layer putted toward Thursday’s
pin while another tried to get out of th
e bunker and close to Sunday’s
target.

Physical yearnings, ones she was becoming used to
,
pulled at her as she watched Darío
on the course. The way he exuded confidence over a putt. How his arms glistened with swe
at magnified by the sun. How he
smiled at her after a difficult shot.

As the players walked down the fairways, Katie could hear their rapid exchanges and once again silently thanked the stars that
Darío
was so fluent in English. One of the other players barely spoke a word of it.

As the golfers walked up the eighteenth fairway, nearly done for the day,
Darío
waved to Katie. She waved back, surprised. She’d felt his eyes on her during rounds, but he seldom acknowledged her while he played. Sometimes he would send Binky over to get her
water
bottle and refill it at the iced water stand that was inside the rope and for the players’ use only. Or send him to dispatch a tube of Chapstick, which she always seemed to forget.

He waved again and she realized that he was summoning her to join them. Inside the ropes. On the fairway.

She’d never gone inside the ropes before. During practice rounds, club manufacturer reps, agents, coaches and even sometimes wives would walk with the players, but
Darío
always played with just Binky at his side.

She stupidly looked behind her, certain he must be calling to someone else.

“
Gata
, come, join us,” he said.

Nope. Nobody else.

The three men had stopped in the middle of the fairway, apparently waiting for her to join them. She stepped under the rope, catching the curious glances of those gallery members next to her. A man in a shirt denoting his tournament volunteer status walked up to stop her, but
Darío
called out to the man, “It’ okay. She’
s with me.”

She was with him. Katie didn’t take the time to think about what that meant beyond admittance to the fairway.

Darío
introduced her to his playing companions. She was curious to see what he would say to them about her, but only said, “This is Katie.” She didn’t know if
Darío
had explained who “Katie” was earlier.
She
wished them luck in the tournament and walked the rest of the way to the green with the men. She stayed on the fringe of the green while they went through their various routines.

The bleachers were full at the eighteenth green and the crowd burst into applause when
Darío
sank a putt that traversed the entire length of the green. He smiled and doffed his cap to the crowd. When they quieted, he said loud enough for them to hear, “Here’s hoping I can do that on Sunday.” The crowd laughed good-naturedly and applauded the group as they left the green. There were some shouts of  “Good luck,
Darío
!
” and “Go get ‘em,
Darío
!”

Katie felt a tingle race up and down her spine as they rooted for her guy. There was definitely a different feeling at this tournament than the others she’d attended. An electricity. An importance. A major.

As they headed to the clubhouse inside the ropes that separated them from the crowd, a dark-haired woman with a baby in her arms and a toddler at her knees headed toward them. As one of
Darío
’s playing partners – the Spaniard whom
Darío
had introduced as Angel – stepped forward, it became obvious by the smile on the woman’s face that they were a family.

Angel lifted the rope and the woman and children passed underneath. The adults gave each other a kiss that made Katie look away. It wasn’t so much that the kiss was X-rated, but it telegraphed such a sweetness, such an intimacy between the couple, that Katie felt like an intruder watching.