They also fielded a variety of greetings from giggling girls pulling up the courage to say at the last minute, “Hey, Mrs. Astley,” to full grown men, some of them married fathers, married fathers of kids who probably sat in Rocky’s classroom, giving Rocky the once-over and saying to Layne, “Tanner,” in a way that could easily be read as, “Nice work, dude.”
If that wasn’t enough, Gabby, who always came early so she could sit front row, fifty yard line, had come early so she could sit front row, fifty yard line and she did this by Stew. That meant Rocky and Layne had to walk right in front of her while she glared fire at them both, her face so hard, Layne wouldn’t have been surprised if it shattered.
Nevertheless, he’d tipped his head to them both, keeping his arm firm around Rocky’s stiff shoulders as her fingers dug into his waist and he greeted, “Gabby, Stew,” a greeting which was not returned by either of them, and then he guided Rocky right by.
“It’s fine,” Layne assured her.
“It’s not fine!” she leaned in and hissed. “Did you see Josie?”
Layne felt his brows draw together. “Josie?”
“Josie, Layne, Josie Brand, now Josie Judd!”
“Chip’s wife?” Layne asked.
“Yes,” she snapped. “Chip’s wife and my best friend. My best friend who I haven’t called to inform that I’ve reunited with my old boyfriend!”
Jesus, that was all it was?
Layne grinned. “She’ll get over it.”
She threw her hands up and almost lost the lid of her cup as well as the dog out of the bun. “You obviously do not know Josie.”
He did, he knew Josie Brand but as far as he knew he hadn’t seen her in over twelve years.
“Sweetcheeks, calm down.”
She leaned closer. “If you call me sweetcheeks in front of one of the students –”
Like he had the previous day at the Station, he hooked her around the neck and yanked her into his body and both her hands flew out to the sides to avoid her not very exciting dinner getting crushed. This time, instead of her coming to his side, she was full frontal and that was better. Much better.
He dipped his face close to hers. “Baby, I’m not gonna call you sweetcheeks in front of the students.”
“Don’t kiss me either,” she hissed. “I haven’t read my contract for awhile but I think it has an express clause that I can’t make out with seriously hot private detectives at football games or during any other school activity.”
His body went still as his mind tried and failed to sort through how fucking great it felt that she referred to him as a “seriously hot private detective” at the same time he wanted, with no small amount of desperation, to laugh out loud for a long fucking time.
Instead, he joked, “It’s good they had the foresight to include that in your contract.”
“I’m not being funny, Layne,” she warned.
“You’re wrong, Raquel,” he replied.
At his words, she went smack into stare down which, unfortunately for her, Layne thought was cute.
Therefore, he asked, “Your contract says you can’t make out but does that mean I can’t kiss your neck?”
“Yes!” she hissed.
“Your forehead?” he went on.
“Yes!” Her voice was rising.
“Your nose?”
“Layne, this is not amusing.”
He smiled. “Wrong again, sweetcheeks.”
“Two seconds and you’ll have ice cold pop over your head,” she threatened.
She wouldn’t do that. She used to threaten all sorts of wild retribution but she never did it. Their fights might occasionally get physical but only in good ways. She’d once accidentally squirted his t-shirt with ketchup but only because she was yelling while holding a ketchup bottle at the same time gesticulating and she’d done it by accident. The hilarious look on her face after she’d done it had led to him laughing so hard he nearly split a gut, Rocky doing the same and, shortly after, them fucking on the kitchen table during which he transferred the ketchup on his tee to hers.
This memory had while she was pressed against his front served to sober him so he dipped his face even closer and whispered, “Everything is gonna be fine, Roc, swear.”
She stared into his eyes several long moments before she nodded.
He let her loose from his front but kept his arm around her neck and led her to the boys. These being Colt, Colt’s best friend Morrie who co-owned the local bar, J&J’s Saloon, with Colt’s wife Feb, Loren Smithfield, the local ladies man who stayed a ladies man even when he was legally bound to only one lady (and he’d been that way three times), a decent guy on the surface but underneath pure asshole, Ricky Silvestri who owned most of the car dealerships in the county and who famously fucked around on his wife so she divorced his ass but he was equally famously still in love with her, trying to win her back and spectacularly not succeeding, that said, Layne thought he was a decent guy who was paying due penance for a very bad mistake, and Joe Callahan, Colt’s across the street neighbor, a well-known, highly-respected security specialist, a serious badass and the man Layne hoped like hell Jasper didn’t piss off when he eventually started dating Cal’s stepdaughter.
They approached, the boys giving Rocky smiles, all of them friendly except Smithfield’s which was overt and made Layne expend some effort in trying to stop himself from ramming Smithfield’s teeth down his throat, and then they settled at the fence. Rocky started eating her hotdog and his eyes went to the field.