“I thought the point was to be seen?” I looked around pointedly at the empty space.

He gently guided me closer to the edge of the opening, showing me that once we were in the seating area or at the tee, we were in full view of the huge glass windows of the bar on the far side of the green. They were tinted so I couldn’t make out people within.

“We don’t need to see to be seen. Up here we at least have the illusion of privacy. Asha’s photographer is down there.”

The guy reappeared with our drinks and we took a seat far enough from the edge that we were back out of sight.

He sipped his dark beer. “I thought you didn’t drink when you were working?”

I toasted him with my Malbec. “I need a drink if I’m expected to hit golf balls in front of an audience.”

“Lady Elena Who Has No Weaknesses doesn’t know how to hit a golf ball? I thought hitting things was basically your job?”

“Allow me to demonstrate how good I am at hitting balls…” I reached for a club, glancing significantly at his crotch.

“Hell no, my lady!” He grinned at me cheekily, setting his beer down before jumping up and grabbing a club.

“Allow me…” He placed a ball on the tee and aligned his body with it. He bent his knees and wiggled back and forth a few times before drawing the club back and swinging with precision, smacking the ball with a satisfying thwack. We watched it fly out onto the green and roll into the hole at the center of one of the colorful targets.

A screen above us flashed with graphics and registered a score next to the column with an “A.” This ridiculous hipster game was some kind of cross between bowling, golf, and darts. None of these were things I excelled at.

“Your turn.” He waggled a shorter club in my direction.

I shook my head and continued to sip my drink. “Why don’t you go a few more times? I’m still trying to figure out how to do this.”

“Watch the master and learn,” he said.

It was obvious he was genuinely enjoying himself, which I found annoyingly cute.

He placed another ball on the tee and did the knee bend wiggling thing again, which drew my eyes to the muscular curve of his ass. Dude butts didn’t usually do it for me, but I was checking his out instead of watching where the ball went.

“Got it?” he asked, when an “E” flashed back up on the screen.

“Oh, was I supposed to be watching your swing?” I set my wine down and stood to join him. “I was way too busy staring at your ass.”

He raised his eyebrows in mock outrage, putting a hand over his mouth as he set a ball on the tee for me. Then he went back to the table, giving me room to attempt this golf thing.