“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Which one of us is supposed to make the other a sandwich?” he poses, stifling a smirk as he reaches up to loosen his tie.
A laugh escapes before I can stop myself. “Should we make fancy ones today?”
“Oh, you’re right. While you’re at it, I want extra jam on mine,” he says with a grin, but he’s already walking toward the fridge to get the ingredients. And I can’t help the way my chest tightens against my will when he goes out of his way to make me feel better for the umpteenth time today.
He places a jar of strawberry preserves on the counter at the same time I reach for the bread, my left hand bumping his. We both freeze in place to stare down at the gold bands we slipped on earlier.
Landry coughs lightly before he jerks his hand back. “Guess we won’t be needing these, right?” He removes his ring and holds it up with a rueful smile.
“Right,” I agree quietly, and he wanders off, presumably to put the ring away.
I follow his lead, stopping in front of a small jewelry box on my dresser. I glance up to find a green ribbon hanging from a bulletin board, and I loop the ribbon through the ring instead.
By the time I return to the kitchen, Landry’s already busy spreading peanut butter over bread. I notice he’s removed his tie and left the top buttons of his shirt undone when he cranes his neck to smile at me over his shoulder, reminding me of how much I like him already.
Did I really expect myself to walk away unscathed after living with him? Is it even possiblenotto fall for my husband?
“Here,” he says, bringing me back from my thoughts. “I cut them in to triangles, since you seemed to like that last time.”
I take the plate from him, our fingers brushing again, and my mind flashes back to the feeling of his hand on my back, coaxing my body closer to his as he pressed his lips to mine. I glance up at his mouth and swallow hard.
“Thanks,” I murmur, trying to tear my eyes away. But all I manage to do is shift my focus to the patch of exposed skin between his throat and his chest. It’s really too bad he’s not interested in collecting that debt.
“No worries, Mrs. Reed,” he replies coyly before he turns back to the kitchen.
I sigh. Maybe it’s my intentions Loren should be questioning.
CHAPTER 12
landry
“Go on in,Daisy. Staff and families get in free,” says the lady in the admissions ticket booth.
“Thanks, Mrs. Julie,” Daisy answers. I tip my head in a polite nod as I follow closely behind her.
“Excuse me, sir,” Mrs. Julie calls out.
I stop and clear my throat. I’ve never paid to get into a Camellia High athletics event in my life. “It’s okay. I’m Landry Reed,” I reassure her.
She glares at me. “Right. But your dad’s not a coach anymore, and you can’t get in for free under your sister’s name or your brother-in-law’s coaching card.”
Ouch.
I may have gotten used to the moniker of “Coach Reed’s son,” but only being recognized as “Loren’s brother” or “The Other Bourgeois’ brother-in-law” has a little more of a sting to it.
“Dr. Reed is my ride tonight,” Daisy explains sweetly, and I’m surprised at the effort required to keep my mind out of the gutter. Must be the high school setting messing with my hormones.
“Oh, well, I’m sure that’s okay.” Mrs. Julie’s expression softens, and Daisy tugs me forward. I suppose it’s a good thing no one knows about the latest updates to our roommate arrangement, or they’d be calling me “Daisy’s husband” by now.
I stop once we reach the fence that separates the sidelines, filling my lungs with the all-too-familiar smell of fresh-cut grass, musty football equipment, and concession stand food. My mind is instantly flooded with memories of the time spent here with my dad and my teammates, both good and bad.
“Hey, Miss Daisy,” a couple of cheerleaders drawl as they walk past us. One of them looks familiar and studies me more carefully than the rest until Tenley’s nephew comes around to pull her into an embrace. Her friend drags her away when she and Ethan go in for a short kiss, and he continues grinning at her even after she’s gone. Then he turns and acknowledges Daisy and me with a nod before he puts on his helmet and trots onto the field to join the kids warming up.
“Is that her boyfriend? Are they married?” I overhear another girl ask the others before she turns and bats a set of gaudy, fake eyelashes in a way that makes me feel uncomfortable.
Daisy glances up at me and stifles a smirk. “Should I tell them you’re single?”
