“Yeah, I saw it,” he says, and blows out a breath. “I don’t know who was there, who would have reported it that way, and so quickly.”
I shake my head. “I know, it seemed fast to me, too. I looked forother pictures on social media to see if you were tagged, but there weren’t any besides the ones our group posted.” Talking this out now, it seems a little too quick. Unless someone we know, or who knows us, was there and sold the story as it happened.
He shrugs. “Maybe it was the bride you threw off our table,” he laughs, and I raise a brow. “We’ll just have to go out again to combat it,” he grins and my stomach flips. God, he’s never lost that same boyish, panty melting grin I’ve loved since junior high. I place my coffee mug on the end table and smooth my hands down my legs. Why am I sweating?
“Speaking of, I got us tickets for an event next weekend. It’s a fundraiser for developing youth leagues. Figured it would be a good fit for you to be seen at. I submitted for tickets and asked Tony to get a copy of the guest list.”
“That sounds great. Will they want me to speak, or are we just there to socialize?”
“I won’t know until they send the tickets back, but I’m thinking we start slow. Just be seen, interact with the coaches and personnel. Let the real you shine.”
He smiles. “I do have a sparking personality.”
I raise a brow. “Mmhmm.”
He acts like he’s offended, throwing his arm over his forehead and moaning, “Oh, how you wound me.”
Jesus, don’t moan like that. It only makes me imagine what other noises I could force from his lips. I stand. “On that note, it’s time for you to go. I have things to do.”
“Oh, come on, I thought we could spend the day together,” he says.
I laugh, grabbing our mugs and placing them into the kitchen sink. “I’d get nothing done with you tagging along.” I turn on the water, rinsing them out when I feel him come up against my back.
“I know one thing we’d get done,” he whispers against my ear. Goosebumps spread over my body and my breath is taken from me. He wraps his arms around me, placing his hands over mine, slowly lifting them to turn the water off, then turning me so I’m facing him. He places his hands on my hips, his thumbs digging into my skin.
I look up. He’s so close, his eyes burning into me. “What’s that?” I barely squeak out.
“We’d be in my truck, but we’d have to be careful. Someone could see us.”
My breathing is erratic, but he’s nice and calm. His thumbs stroking my skin still, I lick my lips, looking up into his eyes and say, “What are we doing in your truck?”
He lowers his voice. “I have a big hose. You’d grab it … and start sucking … ”
“Jackson,” I whisper.
“All the dirt from the back seat.” He straightens and grins but doesn’t drop his hands from me and leans in closer. “Do you know how dirty my truck gets after just one week of football practice?”
I blink. My mind spins. Did he just play me? “Asshole!” I yell.
He laughs, squeezes my sides, and runs for the door. He’s got a smug look on that handsome face of his. “Yeah, nothing fake about that reaction, Chesty. Catch ya later!” He’s laughing as he shuts my door. I’m so worked up right now. I have no words. A joke, that’s all this is to him.
Chapter 15
Jackson
The week is spread between football practice and small appearances with Francesca, to keep a good image. After the troubling press release from our night out at the bar, we’ve been seen doing normal couple things. A little grocery shopping, coffee dates and she even stops by the field to watch the boys at practice. Today she’s brought a newswoman and a cameraman to help get my upcoming senior boys noticed. She’s incredible, still saving some of her good contacts from her old PR company and working selflessly to get the boys noticed. Goldman PR doesn’t know what they lost.
I stand with the boys at the 40-yard line. Jameson, Connor and Dylan appear nervous, while the rest of the team appear excited.
“Relax guys, this is just another practice. I don’t want you doing anything differently. We’re here to have fun, work hard and maybe get you noticed along the way.” I grab Jameson by his shoulder, looking at him directly. “If two people make you nervous, you should throw a ball in front of fifty-seven thousand screaming fans!” I jibe, trying to lighten the mood.
“Coach, if I’m throwing in front of fifty-seven thousand people, it’s because I’m already good enough to do so.”
Oh god, this poor kid looks like he’s going to throw up. I get it. I was him all those years ago. Scared to make a wrong move, scared towalk or talk, scared to breathe.I should have had Adam come down today. He could have shared some old stories about me to make them laugh.
“You’re already good enough.” Looking at them. “You areallalready good enough. How many state titles does this school have? How many of you were a part of that? We are current champions, so I know for a fact every single one of you is good enough.” I glance around at them. “Every. Single. One. Of. You.” I look back at Chess and wave her over. “Now come on, hands in!” We start jumping together as one, the boys circle around me, barking, and then our chant starts.
“Who runs this town?”
