She shakes her head. “No, I’m heading up to Willowdale for that hot yoga class I was trying to get you to sign up for.”
I look at her wine glass, empty again.
“I’m taking aWheel Get You,” she says of the rideshare service. “Don’t worry. And hey, it’s not too late to join me.” She hooks a thumb over her finger, toward the pool. “We can just let Archie swim. We’ll be gone two hours, tops.” She lifts the plastic tub of cheese doodles from the table, ones that we brought with us because Jackie would never be caught dead with dyed food. “Leave these neon things out for him and he’ll be fine.”
Smirking, I roll my eyes and get to my feet. “What, you don’t have aballhandy?” I tease. “And I told you, I can’t afford that class. $120 for one class is too much, especially since me and the boys are getting a hotel at the next away game.” I lift my purse strap onto my shoulder and wave to get Archie’s attention. “I’m not doing that dangerous drive. Not after last weekend.” I drop my voice an octave. “Did you see the Leader?”
Jackie nods. “The blind curve by that overlook claimed another carload.” She shakes her head. “Why can’t the school get the game moved?”
I shrug, letting out a fatigued sigh. “I don’t know. I guess because if it’s not raining, the road is pretty safe. But when it rains, it’s absolutely a nightmare.”
Archie approaches, his bottle of bubbles jammed into his front pocket. He swipes a hand down his shorts and sticks it out, toward Jackie. “Goodbye, Miss Jackie.”
Jackie shakes his hand. “Goodbye, Archer McArchington the III.” She’s always calling him something insane, and he loves it. Archie salutes her and she salutes him back.
“Okay, enjoy hot yoga.” I take Archie’s hand in mine and tread backward, toward the fence, still facing my friend.
“Tell the Coach he fixed your box,” she says, sliding her sunnies all the way back on, tipping her face to the sun.
Yeah right. I laugh. “Will do.”
Outside the fence, Archie turns to me, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the hem of his Monster Truck Race ‘19 tank top that used to belong to Rawley. “We’re staying in a hotel?”
I nod, relatching the gate before traipsing through Jackie’s side yard, Archie trailing behind. “Yeah, buddy. Remember how dangerous it was last year driving home?” Tanner didn’t start, but he was on the sidelines for the varsity games, watching, waiting, learning. And each game he was on the bench, we were there, watching, waiting and hoping.
“That road was scary,” he recounts, running to catch up to my side once we’re on the sidewalk. Jackie doesn’t live very far from us, and between our two homes is a small shopping center with a tax preparation place that is only open during tax season, a wax and sugaring bar calledLess is More, a small nursery that mostly carries rose bushes and the tiny ice cream shop. They only have eight flavors, and they don’t have toppings, but their ice cream is fresh and Archie loves it.
So do I.
Knowing that ice cream was on the agenda for late Saturday afternoon, I opted to walk to Jackie’s so that Archie could burn through some energy pre-sugar. It was a good move, because just as we reach the end of the parking lot for the shopping center, he lets loose his first “I’m tired” groan.
With Tanner at his friend Jason's overnight, and Rawley on a weekend trip away with the Turners, it’s just me and Archie for another day.
I contemplated asking Dean to come over tonight, since we’ve been texting each other like crazy. I didn’t want tosquash my time with Archie, though, as much as I wanted to see Dean.
That’s why when Dean parks his truck in front of the nursery next door, I can’t help but say, “Seriously?”
Archie turns, squinting hard, cotton candy blue staining the corners of his mouth. He jumps up and bolts toward the door before stopping short, turning back for his cup of ice cream. “Mama, c’mon! Coach Dean’s outside!” he says before the bell on the door dings, and Archie is nothing but a trail of smoke and cotton candy fumes.
I get to my feet, and follow Archie to the sidewalk, finding Dean looking down at him, wearing a smile. “Is that right?” Dean’s rich voice drips down the back of my shirt, leaving my nipples stiff and my pulse tachy. His gaze lifts from Archie, and finds mine.
My entire body goes warm and gooey when Dean McAllister smiles at me. I feel like a cookie straight out of the oven, like if he pulled my hand, I’d completely fall apart.
“You two walked to ice cream, I hear,” he says to me, splitting his focus between me and Archie. I love that he does that, I love that he gives the boys his attention and not just to impress me. He likes Archie—I can tell. A mother knows when someone does not like their child, and what I see with Dean and all three of the boys is real.
That thought makes my heart thump a bit faster. “We did. Thought burnin’ off some energy before loading up on sugar made some sort of sense.”
At his boots, Archie jumps, reaching, his ice cream quickly melting in a bowl on the ground, where he set it.
“Whatcha reachin’ for partner?” Dean asks, thickening up his country drawl because it makes Archie smile.
“Your hat! Can I wear it? Please? Just for a minute while Ifinish my ice cream?” Archie’s little hands grip at Dean’s leg, and I reach out, to pull him back.
“Archer,” I say, full-naming it because I didn’t raise any of the boys to beg and grab on people. “Give Coach Dean some space. It’s not nice to claw at people,” I remind him. I look up at Dean and shake my head. “I’m sorry, Coach.”
Dean shoots me a wink that incinerates all pure thoughts, leaving behind only sinister scorched earth and devious, filthy desires. My mind is full of all adult content when he takes his hat from his head, and places it atop Archie’s.
Archie thanks Dean, plopping down right there on the pavement to dig into the rest of his ice cream. I don’t know why, but the words are unstoppable off my tongue once they ping pong around in my brain. “I was actually gonna invite you to join us for ice cream and… I don’t know what else,” I say, hating the way my cheeks fill with color. I’m not good at flirting. I’m not used to saying something without saying it.
