Claire Prescott dawdled in the changing room for quite a while before coming out.
Actually, she doesn't know how to play golf and doesn't want to play; she just wanted to stay away from them. Looking at it now, she clearly dug a hole for herself.
Absent-mindedly spraying mosquito repellent on her legs, suddenly a shadow loomed over, and in her view was a pair of polished black leather shoes.
Claire straightened up, looking up along the man's pants, unexpectedly meeting a pair of profound, noble eyes.
She was instantly stunned, looking incredulous.
The man wore a crisp white shirt, looking at her with eyes as gentle as the breeze, his voice deep and magnetic: "What's wrong? Change cities and now you don't recognize me?"
Claire came back to her senses, her eyes gradually brightened, she asked excitedly, "What are you doing here?"
"Business trip."
Two words, simple and clear.
Meeting here, how fortunate.
Claire asked with concern, "Is your cold better?"
"It's already gone."
