Wednesday, March 27, 2013

A Thousand Word Excerpt from PD Singer

From Return to the Mountain by PD Singer

Adjusting his grip on the five iron, Gary addressed the seventeenth ball from his bucket. The Phippsburg municipal course wasn’t a good patch on the Wapiti Creek course, but the resort courted golfers who could be playing at Augusta or Plum Creek instead. The town spent a sizeable chunk of its Parks and Recreation budget on golf, and the course saw plenty of use. The Humphrey Chamberlin High School golf team teed off three times a week during fourth hour and spent plenty of time on the driving range and putting greens in exchange for some grounds maintenance.

Today was a driving range day, and Gary wasn’t getting anywhere close to the distance he needed on each ball. With grim determination and studied relaxation, he lifted the club behind his head and swung. If he’d been trying to practice hooking the ball instead of driving it, he’d be happier with his performance so far.

At this rate, he’d win the prize for “gets most use out of his greens fees.”

He teed up another ball and checked his club. Maybe he’d selected wrong, or maybe he’d just found the real reason the club’s unknown first owner had hurled it into the rough. Gary’d purchased none of the clubs in his bag; they’d been foundlings left unclaimed at Wapiti Creek and donated to the school. Not all of his clubs possessed completely straight shafts.

Two golfers away, Seth took his backswing with his driver and attacked his ball. Gary helped Seth admire the flight, and long seconds later, the ball bounced among the few others that had made it out to 230 yards today. Seth had probably landed most of those, too, because they fell in a tight grouping in a very nearly straight line out from his position. Gary had landed one or more balls in front of every one of his six teammates.

If the coach came over to try redirecting Gary’s shots again, one or both of them would scream. Instead, the coach summoned Seth. “Morgan, see if you can’t straighten Richardson out.”

Like that would work anyway. But Seth might help with his swing.

After taking one shot with Gary’s club, proving the damned thing could send a ball anywhere an expert wanted, Seth returned it to Gary. “Okay, settle your stance behind the ball.” Feeling far too aware of the desirable presence behind him. Gary obeyed, and tried not to shiver when Seth touched his arms with warm hands.

“Check your grip, and—oh, here….” Instead of explaining, Seth tried swiveling Gary’s hips in a little circle, hands on his waist. “Your back’s stiff.”

No shit. And that wasn’t all. But Gary tried to gyrate easily under Seth’s direction, settling in a straight line once the wiggling stopped. Damn this for being in public, damn the clothing and damn all for this being about golf. Wanting to take a half step back and find naked Seth to press against wouldn’t make his next shot go one degree closer to his target. Swallowing hard, Gary told himself to do nothing Seth hadn’t advised, and why couldn’t the guy use more words and fewer touches? Seth had a firm grip on Gary’s shoulders now, massaging them in circles. “Okay, now take your backswing, but don’t swing.”

Poised in a position he desperately want to uncoil, Gary lifted the club into the air and let Seth pat one shoulder higher.

“Feel that?” Seth asked.

Hell yes. Gary felt hot breath on his neck and fingers of fire through his thin cotton T-shirt. And he felt his left arm’s extension just a little differently, with the three neurons still paying attention to what he was supposed to be concentrating on.

“Come down and then backswing again.” Seth made that same little push, and then he stepped out of range. “Again, and swing.”

Something felt different, and it wasn’t just Gary’s groin. He stepped forward and addressed the ball.

“Go for it,” Seth encouraged him, and like any proper Seth-struck ball, the stupid thing sailed off the head of Gary’s club into the sky, landing a highly satisfactory 140 yards out and nearly on a line with the demo ball. “Do it again.”

Hot damn. It worked. The temptation to undo what he’d just learned to get Seth to come close for another bit of hands-on coaching was very strong, but he’d probably screw up again without a lot of trying. That was the way of skills, a few good attempts, a few not so good. Better not mess up deliberately—he did want to hang on to the better motions. Gary teed another victim and exiled it by 120 yards, although his hook was back enough to land it farther to the left than he wanted.

“Set your ball.”

Seth’s thin frame at his back was setting both of Gary’s balls way more than he wanted—bending to tee up brought too many of his late night fantasies back. Shaking the thoughts away like flies, Gary gave himself half a face full of blond curls. At least his halo of fluff kept Seth from seeing the neon glow of his cheeks.


Couldn’t they just run behind the clubhouse and fall into a writhing, naked heap, instead of doing this “wiggle your ass around ’til your back is loose” thing, or the shoulder rubbing that made Gary want to drag Seth’s arms around him and crush their mouths together?

No. They could not. Seth reached around to fix Gary’s grip, turning his hands slightly on the grip to turn the shaft. Couldn’t Seth just tell him? No. Seth never found the words for instructions, just the little pats and twists that made Gary need to handle his other shaft until he could concentrate on anything related to golf. His grip for that would be just fine, even if it would be better for Seth’s coaching, or better yet, for his help.

Oh, damn. They were still on the golf course. With something approaching desperation, Gary nailed the ball for 160 yards straight out and a small “Wahoo!” from Seth. Wahoo indeed. Wahoo would be when he got somewhere private and took care of his stiff dick.
Thanks, Pam! This was a scene from her new book, Return to the Mountain. Top of my TBR list now!

Caddy Gary Richardson hungers for the lush life of the wealthy golfers he escorts around the course at Wapiti Creek. The contrast between his tiny trailer at the edge of a mountain town and the luxurious ski and golf resort is something he’s learned to live with but not like. Gary wants the fancy condo and late-model car not just for himself but for his childhood friend turned lover, Seth Morgan. He’d settle for security for the two of them, but even that seems out of reach.

Seth is content with Gary and enough spare cash for greens fees at municipal golf courses. Going pro is beyond his means, even if he plays well enough to win on the championship resort courses. Gary would do anything to fulfill Seth’s dreams, even things he’d rather keep to himself. When an unheard of opportunity knocks, Gary can answer or resign himself to living on tips from affluent tourists.

But Seth can’t live with that answer when it means his trust has been betrayed. He has to let go and hope the man he loves will find his way home.

From Dreamspinner, Amazon, All Romance eBooks and other fine eTailers.

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