Page 24 of Good Guy Gabe

“But you have other stuff to do. I couldn’t ask you to make me a quilt.”

Her eyes shimmer up at me, evoking all kinds of crazy emotions inside me. I’ve already told her she’s my girlfriend. It’s clear I want to see how far we can go. But that vision I have of her and me and kids? It’s coming right back, with the addition of that quilt for our family to cozy up under.

“You didn’t ask me,” she says. “I offered. And I won’t let you say no.”

If she won’t let me say no, I won’t let her, either. I steal a quick kiss and hand her a wad of paper napkins for a quick clean-up while I grab her panties and skirt. I pass them to her and then continue on down the road.

Once she’s gotten herself dressed, I reclaim her hand. “I hope you know this isn’t some fling for me, Joss. I’ve got a mandatory practice at six a.m. tomorrow, so—”

She gasps, horrified. “But you’re all going to be out late tonight! And it’s Sunday!”

“Yeah, that was management’s attempt to keep us from getting into trouble. And I am going to be in a bit of trouble, so I’m going to roll in at 5 to kiss some serious ass. But I need you to know that what’s between us, it’s not what we just did. I want more than that. I’m absolutely not going to spend the night with you, because I’m not going to sneak off in the middle of the night like a criminal or wake you up before sunrise.”

She gives my hand a squeeze, and in my rearview, I see she has the biggest grin, like she’s absolutely smitten.

I hope she is. I am.

“I’m going to hop in your stream tomorrow if I can. And I’m sure my life’s going to be a living hell this week because of the Kick-Off Gala, so I’m going to buy your one-on-one tutorial package so I can say good night—”

“Do not do that!” She tries to be firm, but she can’t quite smother her laughter.

“I am doing that. Because you probably still haven’t gotten your phone and I want to tell you good night every night face-to-face. And I know that this is probably a big ask, but if it’s at all possible for you to come to the game next Sunday, I’m going to give you two tickets for the WAG section.”

“What’s the WAG section?”

“Where the wives and girlfriends like to sit.”

“Gabe, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Ma’am, you already are my girlfriend. I’m asking you to come see what I do and then come out to dinner with me and my buddies so I can show you off and get to know one of your friends better and then ditch your friend to spend the night at my place.”

She strains across the seat, a far bigger distance for her than me, to peck my cheek. “It’s super hot when you call mema’am.”

Chapter 12

Joss

CORA ANDI arrive at the stadium several hours early, at 10 a.m., like Gabe advised. There’s already a massive line of cars to get in, so I see he was right. “They’re here to tailgate,” Cora explains. “They’ll all get drunk in the parking lot, have a good party, save themselves money at concessions.”

“It’s a little early to drink, isn’t it?”

Although truth be told, I could go for something to take the edge off right now. I only got a quick goodnight from Gabe last night. He was apologetic about not being able to stop by the shop as he’d done a couple other days this week, and not that I expected him to, but now I’m wishing I’d gotten a chance to see him once more. Or even a quick chat with him today. He calms me.

Cora and I are stuck in traffic for half an hour, the roads surrounding the stadium on all four sides in gridlock, but eventually we see a sign for Lot P. Cora passes my ID to the man at the gate and, just like Gabe promised, is handed two tickets.

The road leads to a valet and on to a VIP tailgate area. Instead of sitting in camping chairs, drinking beers out of coolers while people scream and carry on and blow their horns, we’re offered complimentary mixed drinks and an assortment of charcuterie and tapas catered by local fine dining. There are several giant TVs showing pre-game stuff as well as a gaming area where a bunch of people are playing video game football.There’s something for fantasy football, a fancy playground for kids, even a DJ. As for the people tailgating here, I get the impression that it’s a mix of people like us — people with some connection to the team, be it personal or professional — and fans who paid a lot of money for the privilege.

I’m enjoying myself as we stroll around, taking it all in, but I start to get this feeling that I’m being watched. There are too many people around for me to pinpoint who it is, and Cora is a well-known fashion designer, so it could be someone watching her. Even so, the moment she gets drawn into a sales pitch from one of the vendors, I run to the bar, just to see if I’m still getting that feeling.

It sticks with me. I’ve sucked down half my second mimosa by the time I scurry back to Cora, who thrusts a bag at me.

“What’s this?” I hand her my drink, which she finishes as I open the bag and pull out the ruby red polyester shirt folded up inside. The slippery material unfolds on its own, revealing the saffron accents at the sleeves and around the white writing. A giant 72 with SHAUNESSY on the yoke.

It’s Gabe’s jersey.

While Blaise’s last name and number are far and away the most popular, I’ve seen a half dozen people with Gabe’s already. Still, this feels like a big deal.

“Go on, put it on,” Cora coaxes.

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