His vision turned an alarming shade of gray, heat prickling his scalp beneath his cap.
“Oh.” Josephine’s gait halted when she saw him waiting. “Wells.”
The other caddie split a look between them. “I’ll see you down there.” He stuck his hand out to Wells. “Good luck today.”
Wells wasn’t sure how he felt about this dude yet, but Josephine was watching him, her frown increasing with every second he hesitated. “Yeah,” Wells muttered, shaking the young man’s hand. “You too.”
As soon as the other caddie was out of earshot, she goaded him. “Being civil wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Actually, I’m crumbling inside.”
“Poor gargoyle.” With a shake of her head, she started toward the course and Wells followed. He trailed behind on purpose, taking plastic rolls of glucose tabs out of his pockets, carefully unzipping various compartments on the golf bag, and stuffing the plastic tubes inside. Grape flavor. “I’m glad you’re early. Some practice swings would be—”
“Is something romantic happening there?” Wells interrupted.
She blinked back at him over her shoulder, but thankfully he was done stocking the bag with sugar reinforcements, as Josephine’s mother had suggested. “Is there something romantic happening where?”
Wells drew even beside her. “Between you and that kid.”
“First of all, his name is Ricky and he’s Tagaloa’s caddie. We spent the entire day with them yesterday. Ringing any bells?”
“Barely.”
She rolled her eyes. “Second, no. He has a girlfriend. Two of them, actually. Both of whom come second to his Komodo dragon, Slash.”
“Good,” Wells grumbled, the world comprised of colors again.
Josephine’s cheeks deepened with a blush, ever so slightly. “Not for the second girl, I’m guessing.” They walked in silence for several yards. “Was there something else you wanted to speak to me about?”
“Yes.”
They continued walking.
Wells knew what he wanted to express, but he had no clue how to verbalize it.
“It’s not that I don’t want to take suggestions out there, Josephine. I’m not that fucking stubborn.” That last part left her looking skeptical, which was fair, but he pressed on. “It’s like . . . once my round becomes a dumpster fire, I just want to hurry up and burn it all down.”
“You’re self-destructive.”
Despite that glowing sentiment, he really liked how Josephine just jumped into the deep end of the conversation with him, without any pomp and circumstance. “That sounds way worse than what I said.”
Josephine stopped walking and backed off the path, so the pairs behind them could pass. Setting his bag down in front of her, she tightened her ponytail. In the . . . God, the cutest way. Why was everything she did so endearing? “Why do you want to burn it all down?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t expecting to go any deeper with this explanation.” His neck was getting hot. “Can we just leave it at dumpster fire?”
“Afraid not.”
Wells cursed. He picked up his ballcap and dragged a handful of fingers through his hair before fitting it back on. “I’m only humoring you because I feel like a Batman villain after last night.”
“Well,” she said, without missing a beat. “You are the Bane of my existence.”
Oh. God. Now she was making Batman puns? His heart was sprinting at the speed of light. What the hell was he supposed to do about this?
“Funny,” he said, sounding somewhat strangled. “I . . . what were we talking about?”
“The fact that you’re self-destructive.”
“Still not a fan of that phrasing, but sure.” He shifted, moving both hands to his hips. He felt like he’d been mule kicked in the solar plexus. “I guess I self-sabotage out there because I want to prove I don’t care.”
“Do you care?”
Wells opened his mouth and nothing came out.
Josephine stood silently in front of him.
An itch started beneath his collar.
“Do you care, Wells?”
“Yes,” he said after several more beats.
“I guess a better question,” she started quietly, “is why are you so reluctant to admit that you care whether you win or lose?”
Jesus. He’d only meant to explain to her that he wasn’t a brick wall, as she’d described him last night. That he would do his best to try to listen, incorporate her suggestions. He didn’t sign up for a therapy session. But with Josephine’s clear, green eyes focused on him, he found the truth wanting to unravel in his throat. “I don’t want to give anything that power over me. To make me . . .” Out with it. You’re in this deep, might as well keep swimming. “If golf is going to make or break me, I’d rather break it first.”