She hands over a small paper plate with three iced cookies on it. One has my name, another has a Bulldog paw print, and the other reads MVP!!! Complete with three exclamation points. She’s seriously the most adorable person I’ve ever met, dressed in head-to-toe maroon like the super fan she is. Her sweatshirt reads, “I KISSED COACH COOPER” in sparkly white letters and has PTF BULLDOGS down each sleeve. Even her fingernails and shoelaces have paw prints.
I give her another squeeze. “This is so sweet, Ms. Lainey. Your cookies are the best and always so cute.”
She pats my forearm and admits, “I used to be horrible at decorating, but when I became a coach’s wife, I took a class so I could make treats for the team.”
Coach Cooper looks at his wife with hearts in his eyes, like she’s the greatest thing since the invention of the forward pass. “You do an amazing job, babe. And the muffins you made for the team this morning were delish.”
I nod my agreement. “I ate a blueberryandan apple cinnamon, even though I already had breakfast with Pops this morning.”
“Oh, I just love Isaac. I sat beside him at the game last night. He’s so proud of you,” Lainey says, pulling a bottle of water from her giant maroon Bulldogs tote and taking a drink. “I swear, I screamed myself hoarse by the third quarter.”
Coach Cooper quirks a brow at me. “My normally sweet wife likes to heckle the refs.” I try not to giggle.
Lainey humphs. “They should get some dang glasses or something if they don’t want to be yelled at. They missed at least four holdingcalls in the first half alone.” She reaches into her bag again and rummages around as she changes the subject once more. “Jordie, are you going to see your sister today? I have a book she loaned me. Not from the library, one of her personal ones.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’m going over there after I wrap up here.”
She finally finds what she’s looking for and hands over a small paperback about writing. “Awesome. Tell her thank you for loaning this to me.”
“Are you an author, Ms. Lainey?” I ask, carefully putting the book into my backpack. I know she owns the town flower shop and that she’s the unofficial team mom, but I had no idea she wrote too.
“Oh, a little bit, but I’m much newer at this than Juliette,” she says, waving a dismissive hand at me. “Your sister has been amazing and has helped me so much with this process.”
“Well, I think it’s cool that we have two authors in our little town. Do you write romance like my sister?”
Her face pinkens in the cutest way, but she nods. “I do. I have a few books out, but nothing you need to read, missy.” Lainey waggles a stern finger at me, and I don’t tell her I’ve been secretly reading Juliette’s spicy books for over a year. “And please don’t tell anyone. I write under a pen name since my husband works for the school. There are some judgmental folks out there who might take offense.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I tap the ball cap I’m wearing. “I’ll keep it under my hat.”
“Okay, I’m gonna scoot. I have to get back to the flower shop. I’m making maroon bows for all the businesses downtown to put on their front doors, and the cheerleaders are coming by to decorate signs and stuff to put up all over town. I donated eight hundred yards of ribbon to them, so we’re going to turn this entire town maroon for the rest of the playoffs.”
“We appreciate it, Ms. Lainey. It makes the team feel good to see all the support when we drive around town.”
Her shoulders scrunch happily. “That’s why we do it. We want you to know how proud we are of all you kids. Win or lose, though we all know the Dawgs are going to win state this year.” She flutters a hand infront of her now-wet eyes. “Oh, I’ve got to go before I get all emotional.”
Lainey hugs me once more and then gives her husband a kiss on the cheek. It’s chaste, but I don’t miss the way Coach’s eyes follow her from the room, probably checking out how fantastic his wife’s butt looks in those leggings.
“Ms. Lainey is the best,” I say, settling into the seat again.
Coach Coop nods, pulling his eyes from his retreating wife. “She really is. Now let’s finish up this video, and then I want you to get out of here and go be a kid for the rest of the weekend,” he tells me. “You work too hard, McNamara.”
“You complaining, Coach Coop?” I cross my ankle over my knee and don’t hold back my grin.
“Not a bit, smartass. But I still want you to enjoy more than football,” he says, flicking the bill of my cap before pressing the play button on the remote. “Now watch number twenty-seven’s feet during this pass play.”
“So you two fooled around and then he just broke up with you when you didn’t want to go all the way?” Juliette asks in outrage as she brushes my long blonde hair.
“That about sums it up,” I reply, my face scrunched up. “First of all, we’ve only been dating a couple months, and second, I didn’t want to lose my virginity in the back of Zack’s truck. It smells like old socks.”
“That fucker!” she exclaims, and I do my best not to laugh. My sister has the face of an angel and the mouth of a drunken sailor. “I’d like to put my foot right up his ass.”
We’re in her kitchen, and she just trimmed my hair. My eyes close when she begins to work the strands into a thick braid. “Jules, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course you can.”
“Is it supposed to feel good when a guy touches between your legs?”
Her hands don’t even pause. “If he’s doing it right, then yes. Did the assface put his hand down your pants?”
