Jordan took a deep breath, moved the club behind her head, swung, and missed.

Shit.

She turned to smile at Abby.

Somehow, it was important she did this. That she impressed Abby. Jordan was competent in most areas of her life, but golf didn’t fall into that category.

Abby was standing with a hand on her hip, staring at her intently. Her hair shone under the lights of the bay, her cheekbones front and centre. “You’re gripping it too hard. Relax, loosen up, and you’ll find you hit the ball easier.” Abby wiggled her hips as if to show Jordan what she meant.

Jordan copied what Abby had just done. She wasn’t sure it was going to help. She swung again. And missed again.

Shit the bed.

It didn’t look this hard on TV.

In seconds, Abby was beside her, standing with her feet hip width apart, gripping a club. “You’ve got the grip right, but your placement is off. You’re holding it too high. Grip it towards the bottom of the black handle, like this.” Abby demonstrated on her club.

Jordan stared at her fingernails, with their French polish. They were perfect. Just like most of her brides to be. However, Abby was the first one who’d ever brought her to a driving range. She normally got taken to spas, or to lunch. Never to a driving range.

Abby was not Jordan’s usual client.

Jordan did as she was told, manoeuvring her hands into what she hoped was the proper position.

“Now you’ve lost your interlocking grip.” At least Abby said that with a hint of a smile. This was already proving a challenge, and she hadn’t even hit a ball yet.

Abby dropped her club and stepped closer, arranging Jordan’s hands with her own. A tingle ran up Jordan’s body from her fingertips to her scalp. She turned her head to see if Abby had noticed her slight shudder. If she had, she wasn’t showing it. Abby was purely focused on Jordan’s grip. Her hand was wrapped right around Jordan’s as she stepped up behind her, then she wrapped her other arm around Jordan’s waist, the length of her body pressing into Jordan fully.

Okay, they were doing a full body grip. Jordan gulped, and steadied herself as Abby pressed herself up against her.

“Sorry if this is invading your personal space a little, but you were the one who said we should get to know each other more intimately.”

Jordan could hear the smile in Abby’s voice.

“My first instructor did this to me, and it really helped.” She pressed a little harder, and settled herself into Jordan.

Jordan’s mind scrambled.

Abby swung Jordan’s golf club over her shoulder, her breasts pressing between Jordan’s shoulder blades.

Yes, this was intimate alright.

Jordan tried to focus on what Abby was doing.

On her grip.

On her swing.