If you can believe it, the rest of the week goes by fairly smoothly. Cash doesn’t get in trouble once this week and sadly, I’m disappointed because I only see Ridge twice.
But. . . here we are, Saturday morning in St. Helen at the boy’s football game, to which Austin shows up with Brie tucked against his side.
Don’t they look cozy? Gag me. Please.
They’re sitting about four rows in front of us, not an inch of space between them. Brie has her hand on his back, playing with the hair on the back of his head like I used to.
A stabbing sensation hits my chest, and though I know I no longer have feelings for Austin, the fact that she’s doing that makes me want to shove my foot up her ass.
“I can’t believe he showed up with her,” Tori remarks, rolling her eyes, Ada climbing all over her like she’s some kind of jungle gym.
“I can.” I move my coffee out of the way of Ada, who’s trying to drink it now. Little mooch will take anything of yours and claim it as her own. Kinda like her mother. You don’t know how many pairs of shorts Tori stole from me when we were growing up. “He brought her to their first day of school. He has no shame.”
Tori’s eyes widen. “He’s such a dog.”
“So. . . he came over to the house the other day. . . after the last game and we got into it.”
“And?”
“He admitted to cheating on me with her before we were even married.”
Now her eyes really widen, her jaw falling slack. “What?”
“I know!” I whisper-shout. They are in front of us so I probably should keep my voice down, only I don’t really want to. Everyone in these bleachers thinks Austin is some kind of saint. If only they knew the half of it.
Tori’s stare burns into the back of Brie’s now jet-black hair. “What’s so great about her? You’re clearly better looking, better body. . . I just don’t get it. And who’s she trying to be with that black hair, Pricilla Presley?”
I smile. Now I remember what it’s like to have a friend to talk bad about other girls with. I’m all about anti-bullying and all that shit, but you fuck my husband, I’ll stab you in the fucking back. Actually, no, I won’t.
I don’t have it in me to kill another human being. I’d totally stick Cooter on her. “Me either. The only thing I can think of is that she gives it up any time of the day.”
Tori rolls her eyes. “That’ll change once she has a kid.”
“Truth.”
That’s exactly it too. It dawns on me right then, in the middle of my son’s football game, that Austin wanted freedom to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Brie has always been the party animal in our group of friends and never settled down with any guy. As far back as I can remember, she’s never had a steady boyfriend and is nearly twenty-seven years old.
It’s probably because she’s been having sex with my husband for just as long.
Tori nudges my ribs. “Um, I see the way Ridge’s been eyeing you lately. What’s up with that?”
My cheeks feel like they’re as hot as the sun. “Nothing. Why?”
“Um, bull crap. I’ve known you since you were born. I know when you’re lying.”
I don’t want to be discussing this. Pointing to the field, I smile coyly. “Shh, I’m trying to watch a game.”
“Ha. Now I know something’s going on.”
And then I think to myself, what is going on? Should there be?
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
I know Ridge well enough to know he can certainly keep a secret. But. . . and this could be a big but. . . he’s still my kid’s teacher. That’s frowned upon. He could technically get fired if anyone was to find out we were messing around, I think. Were we messing around? Is one kiss really considered messing around?
See? I have absolutely no experience in any of this. I’m in over my head.
As the game ends, my thoughts become louder the closer I get to Ridge. He’s down on the sidelines with Henry and the boys, congratulating them because Cash scored three of the four touchdowns which makes for a nice walk to the car.
You remember the kiss last weekend. . . right? The one against the wall?
Guess who has yet to stop thinking about it?
This girl.
So—with that in mind—what do you think I’m thinking about when Ridge once again waits until I’m in the parking lot loading up the kids?
Nasty, dirty thoughts that involve us naked and my legs up around my ears like the porn I may or may not have watched in the last six months while putting my phone on private browsing.
Well that’s certainly detailed enough to be true, isn’t it?
Regardless, focus, Ridge is in front of me.
Amusement dances in his dark irises, as if he knows my thoughts are constantly in the gutter. He tips his head, looking inside the back of the van and waving to the boys, but then he notes in my ear, “There’s a lot more room in the back of your van than I thought.”
“The seats fold down too,” I breath, organizing the gear bags so they’re nice and neat and not strung all over the place. I fight the urge to slap my hand over my mouth after saying that. I glance at the boys.
They didn’t hear me, nor would they have understood anyway.
Ridge leans into the side of the van with his shoulder, ducking his head so he doesn’t hit it on the rear hatch. “Are you gonna bring the boys by the track today? It’s race night.”
Zipping up the bags, I glance over at him. “I’m beginning to think you like them better than me.”
“I think it’s a good thing they don’t know all the things I want to do to their mom.”
The way he watches me, his dark eyes undressing me, it makes me want to throw myself at him like all those shameless girls in high school did. Sorry, Tori, you’re one of them. Which, by the way, I do not hate my cousin for sleeping with Ridge. I’m jealous, but I don’t hate her because she didn’t do it to hurt me. They actually dated for a week.
I’m not sure where the thoughts come from, but I ask before I can take it back, “What kind of things?”
He reaches up and scratches the back of his head, then turns his hat around backward. His dark hair spills out from the front and loops around the snap of the trucker-style hat he’s wearing. “I can’t tell you. I’m more of a hands-on teacher. I like involving students.”
Alyson, your kids are in the car. You have to stop this now. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t.”
I close the back hatch. “Yes, I do. I’ll bring them by the track around two.”
“Wear something tight,” he tells me, watching me walk away.
“It’s been six months. . . it’s fucking tight.”
He groans and hangs his head. “You’ll pay for that later.”
“Two can play your little game, Ridge.”
What the fuck am I doing leading him on like this? I should know better. Leading Ridge Lucas on is like tossing stones at the devil and not expecting him to turn the motherfuckers into grenades and fire them right back at you. Metaphorically speaking of course.