Love on the Links: The Keys to His Heart, #3

By Meg West

Debra Basso initially is thrilled when her fiancé Troy Bland invites her to spend Labor Day weekend with his parents at the Pelican Key Resort.  But the Blands all are avid golfers, while the only links Deb are familiar with are the beat-up felt fairways on Cape Cod's mini-golf courses.

 

At Troy's insistence, Deb flies down to the Pelican Resort a week early to learn the difference between a bogey and a birdie. Yet when she arrives at the clubhouse for her first lesson, she learns the female teacher she's contracted to work with has taken ill, and she is assigned a pro named Scotty.

 

Over the next few days Deb suffers through Scotty's endless and exacting lessons on how to chip and drive the ball.  But once they leave the putting and driving ranges for the actual fairways, Deb starts to realize that Scotty is teaching her more than just how to land the ball in the hole with the minimum number of strokes.

Love on the Links explores what happens when Deb throws caution to the wind and learns how to play the game of romance with no regard for making par.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Champagne Book Group
• Release date: Aug 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781897445280

Book preview

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Champagne Book Group

Presents

Love on the Links

The Keys to His Heart, Book 3

By

Meg West

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Champagne Book Group

www.champagnebooks.com

Copyright 2019 by Meg West

ISBN 978-1-897445-28-0

August 2019

Cover Art by Robyn Hart

Produced in the United States of America

Champagne Book Group

2373 NE Evergreen Avenue

Albany OR 97321

USA

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This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not buy it, or it was not bought for your use, then please purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Dedication

For my sisters.

Other Books by Meg

The Keys to His Heart

Love on Lido Key

Love on Longboat Key

Chapter One

Bright Florida sunlight woke Deb Basso at seven a.m. on the day of her first golf lesson. She rolled out of bed with a groan and padded in bare feet into the kitchen.

She was grateful to have the fourth-floor beach condo, which belonged to her future in-laws, all to herself. But she wasn’t keen on taking a crash course in how to play the Bland family’s favorite sport of golf.

Her fiancé Troy was the mastermind behind this scheme to turn her into a golfer by Labor Day weekend. He had booked her flight down from Boston and ordered a limo to whisk her to Pelican Key Resort. He arranged for the property manager to open the hurricane shutters and let her into the condo late last night. He told housekeeping to stock the kitchen with basics—coffee, cereal, bread, eggs, cheese—and apologetically told Deb which of the three bedrooms to sleep in.

Mother and Daddy don’t look kindly upon what they call ‘premarital s-e-x,’ he said, so you’ll have to share the pink room with my sister.

Won’t your parents get upset, Deb asked, if they find out I’ve been staying solo at their place a whole week before they get there?

They’re on their cruise, Troy said. Besides, how would they find out?

From the property manager. Or this golf pro you’ve set me up with—what if he says something?

She, Troy said.

It’s a lady golfer?

You think I’d let some strange man put his arms around you?

He—I mean she—is going to put her arms around me?

You have to get physical with someone, Troy said, if you’re teaching them how to drive and putt.

Deb had tried her best to wile her way out of this plan, knowing her arguments held little weight. She couldn’t claim she didn’t have vacation time to learn the difference between a birdie and a bogey, nor could she declare she couldn’t afford golf lessons, as Troy was footing the bill.

Since she’d never taken a course in finance, she wasn’t entirely sure what Troy did for most of the day, and often part of the night, at Anderson Capital. Yet she was painfully aware that he had secured her employer, the Museum of Fine Arts, a huge loan to finance an expensive renovation project—prompting the museum to eliminate half a dozen non-essential employees, including Deb herself.

She was still in shock she’d been given her notice. You mean you’re letting me go? she asked the human resources manager. For good?

The manager shuffled papers on her desk. I’m afraid so. The renovations are going to cost much more than the original estimate.

But my salary comes out of the operating budget, Deb said. And who will do my work?

Interns.

"But I’ve been here ever since I was just an intern in college. I just got engaged…"

Deb had looked down at the ornate engagement ring Troy had slipped on her finger just the week before. Did the size of the diamond have something to do with firing her? Had her supervisor, in consultation with higher-ups, justified their decision by telling themselves, she’s marrying money, so it’s not like we’re putting her out on the street?

She wasn’t sure. She also was so ashamed to be dismissed from the museum that she hadn’t told anyone—least of all Troy—that soon she’d be standing in line at some depressing government office, filling out reams of paperwork so she could collect an unemployment check.

~ * ~

Deb didn’t want to think about Troy’s unwitting role in her being downsized, or the hassle of finding another job, before her first cup of coffee. As she waited for the coffee to gurgle out of the drip machine, she opened the sliding glass door and stepped onto the balcony in just her lace camisole and panties.

This was Deb’s first visit to Florida and her first view of the Gulf of Mexico. She couldn’t believe how blue the sky was—how gentle and clear the water—and how bright the white sand looked in comparison to the gloomy gray sky, muddy brown sand, and rough surf found on Cape Cod, where she had grown up.

She wished she could just stand there in the sunshine, breathing in the smell of the saltwater and watching the pelicans soar above the Gulf. She wished she could spend the morning walking the beach, collecting shells, and letting the lull of the surf take all her problems away.

The heat made her feel lazy and languorous and longing for Troy. As she stretched her arms above her head, she spotted a tall man in red swimming trunks getting out of the kidney-shaped swimming pool below. His tan, fit body dripped water as he reached for a towel and turned his gaze up at Deb. His mirrored goggles flashed light into her eyes and blinded her just enough so she couldn’t gauge how intently he was taking in her half-naked body.

Her face grew warm. She turned to the sliding glass doors. When she pulled the handle, she almost fell back onto the balcony railing. Not even twenty-four hours into her stay, she found herself locked out of the Bland family compound.

Deb turned to flag down the man, but he had disappeared.

Five minutes later—while she worried about how long she could stay in the sun without SPF protection and avoid a burn—a worker came by dragging a pool vacuum. Hiding the lower half of her body behind one of the green wicker chairs, she called out for him to fetch the property manager, who then let herself into the condo and rescued Deb.

Now she was running late. She swilled her cold coffee, quickly showered, then threw open her suitcase, which she’d been too tired to unpack late last night.

What do people wear at this resort? she had asked Troy.

He was absorbed in texting someone at work. Resort wear.

Can you be more specific?

He kept tapping on his phone. Polo shirts.

Color? she asked.

I don’t know—yellow, green?

What about on the bottom?

Shorts for men, he said. For women, the kind that have a skirt-ish thing in the front.

You mean a skort?

He finally looked up from his phone. If you’re worried about what to wear, give Cork a holler.

Deb suppressed a shudder. Troy’s sister Corky and his mother Brickell co-owned a boutique on mainland Sarasota. Deb, who had studied the Cork & Brick website until her eyes crossed, had the sneaking feeling that Corky and Brick Bland wore tropical pink and lime green from head to toe. She also suspected they wore their signature pearl chokers to bed.

Although she had little room in her budget for a new wardrobe, Deb had visited a store popular among the Boston preppy set and sunk close to five hundred dollars into a week’s worth of golf coordinates. Now she considered her new resort wear and wondered which flavor of sherbet she should dress up in for her first golf lesson: banana? strawberry? mango? She pulled on a peach polo and seersucker skort and glanced in the mirror.

She felt like an imposter.

Deb was no golfer. If she had to learn a new sport in Florida, she would have chosen to windsurf or sail or even waterski. Yet she loved Troy. She was going to marry him, which meant she also was marrying his family. To remind herself, she gazed at her diamond, which had belonged to his grandmother, and once again was blinded by its brilliance.

The stress of losing her job caused Deb to shed a few pounds, and the band of her engagement ring now was loose. The last thing she needed was to lose a Bland family heirloom on the ninth hole. She slipped off the ring and left it on the nightstand.

~ * ~

At 8:20, the clubhouse was bustling with golfers eager to tee off before the morning sun became unbearable. Deb approached the check-in