WhimsicalLantern

  The te afternoon sun bathed the 18th green of Brookhaven Country Club's Championship Course in a golden glow, fairways stretching like velvet under a Texas sky. Alex Miller, 26, stood over his ball, his 6'2" frame casting a long shadow. His brown hair, tousled by the breeze, framed a ruggedly handsome face, blue eyes narrowing as he eyed a tricky 15-footer for par. A petroleum engineer who'd sold his nanofluid startup for 40 million, Alex thrived under pressure, but this putt, pin tucked behind a ridge on Brookhaven's devilish green, tested his nerve.

  His buddies, clustered around, leaned on their clubs, their banter a mix of support and jabs. Jake Donovan, a brash stockbroker, new to their friend group, grinned. "Come on, Miller, hurry and putt. I've got a grand riding on you choking!" He swaggered over near Alex, cocky, as his styled blond hair caught the sun, a salmon colored golf shirt snug across his muscur chest, unbuttoned to reveal a golf chain, and the bck ink of a tribal tattoo curling around his bicep.

  Sam Kendrick, a sharp-tongued wyer, the old man of the group in his mid-30s, chuckled. "I need this too. My bar tab's counting on your money to pay it off." He was dressed in a cssic navy polo shirt tucked into tailored charcoal trousers, the outfit understated but impeccably fitted, a simple bck leather belt and polished bck golf shoes completing the look, his pale blue eyes mirthful, a pair of wire-rimmed gsses resting on his nose, and a simple gold wedding band on his hand.

  Marcus Lee, Alex's id-back former college roommate, gave a quiet nod, his jet-bck hair messy as he lounged against the golf cart he was sharing with Alex, tan skin beaded with sweat under his fitted white polo. "Just putt, man. I'm ready to go." Their voices blended with the rustling grass and a distant golf cart's hum, grounding Alex as he gripped his putter, stance steady. Sweat trickled down Alex's spine, the lime green Peter Milr polo clinging to his toned back, its moisture-wicking fabric no match for the April Dals sun. His calloused fingers tightened on the putter, the weight not entirely familiar, but he'd spent the st year doing his best to improve his golf game. His heart thudded, the pressure a familiar thrill. He'd faced worse in boardrooms, pitching his nanofluid to Exxon. The putter's grip felt slick under his palms, the faint scent of freshly cut grass and his own sweat sharpening his focus, the ridge on the green taunting him like a puzzle he couldn't solve

  A low hum grew louder, and Alex's focus wavered, trying to shut out everything around him. A beverage cart rolled up, tires crunching, and a cheerful female voice broke the silence. "Hey, gentlemen! Beer delivery from the clubhouse app!" called the cart girl, a strikingly beautiful woman with jet-bck hair and a mischievous smile. Her ponytail swung like a metronome, her green Brookhaven polo straining against her curves, two buttons undone to reveal pale flesh that caught the sun. A name tag reading "Fiona" glinted over her left breast. She hopped out, her white skirt fluttering around her long legs, holding frosty beers. "Cold ones or anything else you need?"

  Jake sauntered toward her, fshing a roguish smirk as he did so. "I'll take a beer and your number, sweetheart." Fiona smiled politely, handing him a beer, sidestepping his advance with practiced ease. Jake frowned at being turned down so rapidly, choosing instead to turn and openly ogle her as she continued forward to distribute more drinks to the other men.

  Sam gave a knowing look. "Water for me. Someone's gotta stay sharp enough to count strokes." Marcus raised a hand. "Coke, thanks." Alex, crouched over his ball, tried to refocus, but Fiona's gaze locked onto him, her voice teasing. "What about you, tall guy? Need a drink to steady those nerves? Wouldn't want you to be too thirsty to putt."

  Laughter erupted, and Alex's concentration shattered. He swung too fast, the ball hooking left, catching the ridge and stopping three feet short. His friends roared, Sam cpping, "Blown by the cart girl, Miller!" Jake muttered, just loud enough to be audible to Alex, "Wish I was the one getting blown by her." Alex's jaw tightened, a fre of frustration heating his chest. He hated losing, especially to Jake's smug taunts. His competitive streak, honed by years of outsmarting corporate sharks, demanded a rematch, but he forced a grin, masking his irritation.

  Fiona reddened, a pyful smile on her face, her hands twisting the water bottle as she stammered, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ruin your shot." Her voice was soft, almost musical, and Alex caught a whiff of roses, amber, and a hint of vanil in her scent, stirring an odd warmth. He forced a smile, his engineer's logic overriding irritation. "My fault for betting. Just grab me a water." Their fingers brushed as she passed the bottle, a fleeting sparkle - almost a pink color - in her eyes making his pulse skip. He nodded his thanks to her, stowing his putter and pulling his wallet from his golf bag. Handing over three crisp 1,000 stacks to his friends, he chuckled wryly. The cash felt trivial compared to his 40M fortune, but he still remembered the years of barely scraping by, saving every penny to try to unch his idea.

  "This is the st time I bet you guys that I'm better at golf," he said with a wry grin. "I've finally learned my lesson." Marcus shook his head in denial, quipping, "That's what you said the st three times you lost - and what you'll tell us the next three times, too. But until then, I'm happy to keep taking your money." The friends pocketed the money, Jake counting each bill ostentatiously before trying to tuck a 20 in Fiona's shirt as a tip. She gred at him hard enough he took an awkward step backward, handing her the bill and turning away.

  Jake and Sam climbed into their own cart, Sam driving the speeding cart as they careened off toward the clubhouse, Jake chugging his beer from the passenger seat, one arm raised out the window in a wave. Alex watched them go, shaking his head, still frustrated by the missed putt. He climbed into his cart with Marcus and they followed the others, headed toward the clubhouse as well. As the cart hummed along the asphalt path, Alex shook his head, the sting of the missed putt lingering like a stubborn equation he couldn't solve. He gnced at Marcus, grateful for his friend's easygoing nature; Sam and Jake's competitive jabs were fun, but Marcus always knew how to keep things light.

  Marcus gnced at Alex, smirking. "That girl seemed like she was into you, bro." Alex ughed, shaking his head. "I'm married to Kat, dude. Not my style." His thoughts drifted to his wife Kat, her 5'10" volleyball physique, blonde ponytail, and blue eyes that gleamed with mischief. Tonight, he'd tell her about this, her rabid libido likely sparking a poolside tease as she gave him grief over the poor girl who ruined his golf game.

  "Maybe I'll take a shot," Marcus said, a zy smile on his face. "She's hot." Alex chuckled. "She'll shut you down faster than my putt." Their ughter echoed as the cart rolled toward the clubhouse, the asphalt paths crunching under the steady hum of the cart's wheels. The two traded jokes, Marcus ribbing Alex about his continued ck of golf success no matter how much money he threw at new clubs.

  In the clubhouse locker room, Alex took a quick shower, swapping his sweat-damp polo for a tailored navy polo, chino shorts, and loafers, the cool air conditioning soothing his now-clean skin. His mind drifted to Kat again, wondering what she was up to while he was out golfing with his buddies. He exited the locker room, headed for the parking lot. The clubhouse buzzed with the murmur of wealthy patrons, the clink of gsses from the bar mingling with the scent of polished wood and leather, a world of opulence that felt both familiar and distant as he strode toward the exit. Rounding a corner near the pro shop, he collided with Fiona, her slight frame stumbling. He caught her arm, her white skirt brushing his thigh, sending an electric jolt through him. "You okay?" he asked, voice soft with concern.

  She steadied herself, blushing, her jet-bck ponytail swaying. "I'm fine, just clumsy I guess. I keep wrecking your day." Her hazel eyes locked onto his, a mysterious glint of pink and gold swirling within, her scent enveloping him. "Let me make it up to you with a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Say yes, please." The air around her seemed to shimmer faintly, as if charged with an unseen energy, the smell of roses, amber, and a hint of vanil present once more, stirring a restless heat in his chest. Alex's breath caught, an inexplicable pull tugging at him, his logical mind warring with a sudden, primal curiosity to know more.

  Alex's breath hitched, her closeness stirring a forbidden heat he shoved down. Her unbuttoned polo revealed the soft curve of her breasts, her scent dizzying, putting him off bance. "I'm married," he said, stepping back, thinking of Kat's blue gaze meeting his instead of Fiona's hazel stare. "I appreciate it, but I'm good. No hard feelings."

  Fiona's smile turned coy. "Your wife might enjoy it, too. You don't even know what I'm offering." Her words hung in the air, sparking intrigue and unease. He raised his hands, chuckling nervously. "I'm fttered, I'd love to take you up on whatever it is, but I'll pass for the sake of my marriage. We're even."

  She leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek in a quick peck, leaving a faint pink shimmer that tingled, sinking into his skin unnoticed. A faint warmth pulsed where her lips had touched, an odd sensation that sent a shiver down his spine, as if something unseen tugged at the edge of his awareness. "See you next time, Mr. Miller," she said, her skirt dancing as she glided off, hips moving enticingly. Alex stood frozen, the sensation lingering on his cheek, his thoughts a jumble of Kat's mischievous giggle and Fiona's enigmatic gaze. He shook his head, the encounter fading like a dream, unaware of the magic that just transpired - or how his future would unfold.