Kiss My Putt

After spending my entire pro golfing career being known as the quiet, controlled, no-nonsense golfer on the tour, there's nothing more humiliating than throwing all of that down the drain—or into a water hazard—on national television. Needing some place to hide, to lick my wounds and figure out what I even want to do with my life once this blows over, I can only think of one place I need to be. Summersweet Island, where everyone treats me like one of their own, and they'll all be happy to have me home again.

Well, except maybe one person. It's been two years since I last set foot on Summersweet Island or spoke to anyone there. But I'm sure Birdie Bennett, my best friend since I was 15 and the clubhouse manager of my favorite golf course, has had plenty of time to forgive me for that tiny little misunderstanding where I blocked her on social media and blocked her in my phone. Oh, and I guess I kind of, sort of accused her of being a stalker. It's fine!

Once my sexy, spunky, former best friend gets over the shock of seeing me again and stops trying to drive a 9-iron into my skull, I can finally let her know I've also kind of, sort of always been in love with her...