But this is only pretend. It’s only for show.
Sadness rushed over, even though Austin’s lips were still on hers. Fighting the melancholy, she focused on the man who held her so tightly. Not for the first time, she considered giving away all her money. If she could enjoy this every day for the rest of her life, she’d still be the richest woman in the world.
“Come on, Dad. We’re supposed to be playing soccer,” Dallas yelled.
“Yeah.” Cody shoved his way between Austin and Debbie, pushing them apart. “Get back on your own side, Dad.”
The same disappointment Debbie felt filled Austin’s face, but he quickly hid it with a grin as he walked backward. “I’ll make a bet with you anytime, as long as the stakes are the same.”
She laughed, savoring the warmth that lingered in her limbs.
Cheyenne stood mostly off to the side holding her flowing skirts off the ground with both hands as the game resumed. At one point, Tucker kicked the ball to her, but his aim was too high. She released her skirt and blocked her face with her hands as she screamed.
The ball hit her forearms.
“No hands!” Dallas and Cody yelled in unison.
“I didn’t hit it with my hands.” Cheyenne’s face turned red as she defended herself.
“Hitting the ball with your arms is the same as hitting it with your hands,” Dallas explained with exasperation.
“I didn’t hit the ball. It hit me.” Her voice became shriller with each word.
Austin put a hand on Dallas’s shoulder and pulled him back. He grinned at Cheyenne. “Next time try hitting it with your head. That’s legal.”
They continued to play for some time, and Debbie could tell the men were taking it easy on them. After a while, it became obvious both Austin and Tucker were trying to get Cheyenne to engage by repeatedly kicking the ball her way.
She gave an excited squeal the first time she managed to actually connect with the ball, which made everyone laugh. Eventually, she started to chase the ball, fighting Cody for the chance to kick it. In her excitement, she let go of her skirts. She shrieked as she tripped over the flowy fabric and went down.
Tucker raced to her side while everyone else approached more slowly. Debbie grimaced,fearing how Cheyenne might react.
“Are you okay?” Tucker helped his wife to her feet.
“Yes, but my outfit is ruined.” Distress filled her voice, raising it an octave.
“No, it’s not. We can have it dry cleaned.”
She inspected her skirts. “Did I put a hole in it?”
He helped her examine the gauzy material before wiping a smudge of dirt from her bare arm. “It’s fine. And we can go shopping to get you some new clothes for the drive home.”
Cheyenne’s face brightened. Tucker had said the magic word. Shopping.
“Okay, but I don’t think I want to play soccer anymore.”
“We can play Frisbee!” Dallas said. He raced over to the pavilion to get the Frisbee.
If Cheyenne was bad at kicking a soccer ball, she was even worse at catching a Frisbee. Of course, Debbie wasn’t much better, but she had a blast trying to beat Austin and Dallas to the flying disc every time it came her direction. Ten minutes into their game, she was so intent on trying to catch the throw that Savannah had sent high and wide that she didn’t pay attention to where she was running. Her right foot landed in the hole Austin and Cody had warned her about and twisted as she came down hard on her ankle.
She let out a cry of pain, and it was Austin’s turn to race to her side.
“How badly is it hurt?” he asked as he gently lifted her foot.
Debbie sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s pretty bad, but I’m sure it’s only a sprain.”
“I think you need to be done playing.” He helped her to her feet and lifted her into his arms. “We need to get some ice on your ankle.”
“Do you have any ice packs in the cooler?”
