Free The Mulligan by Terri Tiffany Page B

Florida, the air chills my bones when I step outside. I run back inside for my light jacket, zipping it to my chin. One point for Florida.
    Ten minutes later, I pull into the state park’s empty parking lot. A hazy gray mist hiding the earlier sunshine swirls around the swing sets. I can barely make out the rusty slide I use to climb as a young girl. The outhouses probably still show my initials where, one bold day, I’d used Robert’s new penknife and carved not only my initials, but my latest crush’s initials, too.
    I slug a long drink from my water bottle. Amanda is typically late. I spend more time waiting for her than I do in any doctor’s office. I dig out my cell to prod her as a car pulls up next to mine. Finally. I shed my coat and open my car door, surprised to see a truck instead of Amanda’s red Nissan.
    “Hey. Didn’t expect to see you here.” Dan walks toward me.
    “Hey, Dan.” My stomach clenches. He hasn’t changed—looks as good as or better than before. My old flame wears black running shorts and a light windbreaker pulled over an orange T-shirt. When he smiles at me, I instinctively reach for the necklace I once wore against my chest. His look flashes to my neck and back again. Maybe I should have returned it.
    “How’s Florida?” He steps around my car and comes closer. His heady cologne mixes with the morning dew from the trees. “When Robert said you planned to golf professionally, I about fell over.” A chuckle follows.
    “That’s the plan. I heard you’re doing pretty well on tour. Good for you.” I can afford to be generous. It isn’t as though we’d parted after a fight or anything.
    Dan was hardly ever in the area, and I wanted a boyfriend who could take me out now and then. And one who didn’t talk golf nonstop or watch boring movies.
    “I’ve got a ways to go.” His eyes look weary, or is it my imagination? “It’s hard being on the road so much with Mom not feeling well. Did you hear her cancer came back?”
    Of course. I’d forgotten about his mother. She’d been sick on and off for a long time. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. Mom and I haven’t really had much of a chance to catch up yet.”
    The sympathy in my voice encourages him because he moves closer and leans back against Mom’s car. He crosses his arms and gazes past me with a faraway look in his eyes. “They give her about six months.”
    “Oh, Dan, I’m so sorry.” I never know what to say when someone tells me news like this. Not that I’ve heard it often, but it makes me uncomfortable. I take my cue from the way others have treated us after the accident. “Is there something I can do while I’m home?”
    He shakes his head and studies the ground for a minute. “I like coming out here to run. Remember when we had our senior picnic here? You were so afraid of swimming in the creek because someone saw a snake.” A kind-of-cute smile forms at the corner of his mouth.
    “And you and Robert ate so much watermelon, you threw up on the bus ride home.”
    He laughs and I remember now why I’d originally fallen for him. I laugh along with him and our voices echo in the empty dawn around us. As abruptly as he’d brought up our past, he turns to the present.
    He steps closer and looks down into my face. “I’ve missed you, Bobbi.”
    My phone chooses that moment to announce Amanda’s incoming call with a ring tone I’d affectionately chosen for her.
    “Sorry,” I say and pull my cell from my pocket.
    “Bobbi, I’m so sorry I’m not there. I woke up puking and I feel horrid. Is this what pregnancy is going to do to my body? If it is, I’ll never live through it.” Normally, I would have listened to her tirade, but today with my heart racing wildly in my chest from Dan’s presence, I decide to cut in.
    “Hey, it’s fine. I’m here with Dan. He showed up the same time I did. I’ll take a quick hike and drop by later, OK?”
    “Dan? As in Dorky Dan? What on earth, Bobbi? Listen…wait,