An hour and a half later, Edwards' ball hit the bottom of the ninth hole for par. Edwards had never stopped at the Snack Shack nestled into the woods between the ninth and tenth, but the two young women had apparently decided they needed a water break in the shade, and Edwards thought they looked even better up close. And if ever there was an appropriate time to pass the pace car and get on with the rat race, it was now.
The blonde looked at them and said, "Go right ahead, hot shots. You don't want us in front…and we don't want you behind."

Edwards turned on his charm smile and held up his hands in mock surrender. "I apologize. Very stupid of me. I play here a lot, and it isn't too often you get ladies as pretty as yourselves just ahead. I was trying to get you to turn your head. Sorry."
The blonde didn't seem impressed, Edwards thought, but the brunette, who couldn't hit a beach ball, cracked a smile and said, "This is my first time on a golf course. I guess this is really my fault for not being able to play that well."

The blonde was quick to her friend's defense. "It's not your fault. You paid your money, and everybody has a first day, even these two."
Both Edwards' and Ross' brows raised. "Your friend is a hundred percent correct," Edwards agreed. "Everyone has a first day. My friend here," Edwards continued, motioning to Ross, "was terrible before we started playing together," he lied. "Now, he plays consistently in the low nineties."

The blonde smirked, "Next you're going to ask us to join you so you can show us some pointers."
Edwards turned on his charm laugh. "And she's smart, too."
"Forget it," the blonde said. "I've watched you play, and you're not good enough to teach. If I want a lesson, I'll hire somebody I can't already beat."