look at me like that. We can’t all do something noble for a living.” He braced his hands on the bar and leaned forward. “Now, what can I get you?” he asked in an intimate whisper.
Somehow he managed to make her feel silly and small. Lily bristled. “What’s the house special?”
“Prune juice.” He offered an angelic smile.
“You’re not funny,” she said.
“And you’re no fun.”
She glared at him. “We’ll just see about that.”
Memorial Day was the one day Sean could sleep in, so the honking of a horn outside at eight in the morning was particularly annoying. Who the hell was up at eight in the morning on Memorial Day?
He’d gone to a lot of trouble to get off work so he could be around the kids today. And God knew, he could use the sleep. Wearing paisley pajama bottoms and a deep scowl, he shuffled downstairs and yanked opened the door.
Belching a cloud of diesel smoke, a huge Winnebago idled in the driveway. Except that it wasn’t exactly in the driveway. The wheels on the right-hand half were in the flower bed that bordered the asphalt. And it wasn’t exactly a Winnebago, either. The sides had been painted to resemble an enormous loaf of Wonder Bread.
The engine coughed and died. Lily Robinson got out, leaving the flimsy aluminum door open behind her. “Good morning,” she sang cheerily. She wore jeans and sneakers and had a bounce in her step. She reminded him of a kid, and he wondered what had gotten her all excited.
He managed a grumpy nod, trying not to gag on diesel exhaust.
She walked around the RV, noting that she’d missed the driveway. “Oops,” she said. “I’m not too good at parking yet.”
“Maybe you should go practice in a place where people aren’t trying to sleep.”
“I’m sure I’ll get plenty of practice where we’re going.” Her gaze kept drifting to his bare chest.
Instead of feeling self-conscious, he stood a little straighter. “I need coffee. And I think you have some explaining to do.” In the kitchen, he flipped on the coffeemaker and yawned while it started to drip. “Don’t say a word,” he said, robbing the pot of its first cup. “I know your opinion of coffee.”
“Then you should know it’s a leading cause of the yips.” She marched outside and turned, motioning him to follow.
He blinked at her. “What?”
“You know, the yips.” She climbed in through the narrow doorway and stepped back to make room for him. “It’s an involuntary muscle spasm that occurs while stroking a putt, caused by dystonia or severe performance anxiety. Ben Hogan suffered from it, did you know that?”
“I know. I’m just surprised you do.”
“I’ve decided to educate myself.” She showed him a small library of golf books on a built-in shelf. “There’s so much to learn about the game of golf. I had no idea it was so complex and fascinating.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not rocket science.”
“No, it’s an ancient art begun in the fifteenth century in the Kingdom of Fife. That’s in Scotland.”
Maybe she’d had something stronger than caffeine for breakfast. “Lily,” he said, “what the hell are you doing here?”
“Helping you relaunch your career.”
“What?”
“Cameron told me about it.”
“Did he tell you I turned it down?”
She ignored him. “Your sponsor is really behind you, did you see?”
“How could I miss it?” He wondered what the genteel residents of the neighborhood thought.
“My sister needed money, so the sponsor leased it and had their logo painted on the sides. They’re really wonderful people to work with.”
Her intention finally penetrated through the fog. He held himself very still, but the effort was too much. He burst out laughing, the amusement coming from deep in his gut.
When he finally stopped, he saw her looking at him.
“Are you finished?”
“Yes, for now. But thank you. That was refreshing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a nap.”
She planted herself in his way, easy enough to do in the narrow confines of the RV. “Oh, no, you don’t. You have a contract to sign, and we’ve got plans to make.” Like a gadfly, she darted around the camper, giving him the guided tour. “The girls can sleep together here,” she said, indicating a bunk over the cab. “I’ll take the bed in the rear. You and Cameron will bunk right here.” She showed him a tiny side room with a compartment like a train. Now, there’s only one bathroom but I made out a schedule and posted it on the door, designating—”