Page 52 of Treat

“Exhibitionists.” Jude stopped in front of her, clearing his throat to get Tuck’s attention. When the kissing didn’t stop, he scowled and knocked one sneakered foot into Tuck’s shin. “Yo, dickhead.”

Tuck merely shot up a middle finger and kept kissing his wife.

“Fuck it,” Jude muttered and, backing up, plopped down in the seat next to hers. “I’ll just sit here.”

“That’s technically not our seat,” she reminded him, taking the box of hot dogs he handed her.

“Nobody’s sat here all game,” he pointed out. “But if they come by, I’ll apologize and move.”

But now you’re sitting next to me, and I have enough problems to deal with,she thought, staring at the hot dogs.“Fine. Did you get napkins?”

“In my pocket. Hang on, let me unload these beers.”

Hearing the magic word, Tuck lifted his head. “You got my beer?”

“Now he comes up for air,” Jude muttered, but he was smiling. “Here, take your wife’s too.”

Esme leaned around Tuck, her lipstick smeared to her chin. “What about my popcorn?”

“I got it,” he assured her. “Here, take a napkin too.”

“I don’t need a napkin.”

“You kind of do.” Brynn tapped a finger on her bottom lip.

Esme sighed, pinning her husband with a scolding look. “I told you not to smear me.”

“Sorry, babe.” Tuck chugged his beer. “You’re too damn hot when you talk about sportsball.”

Esme took her popcorn and the napkin Brynn passed down. “Well, try to control yourself, for God’s sake. This is a baseball game. Some things are sacred.”

Tuck grinned, beer foam in his beard. “You keep saying sexy shit, I’m not going to be responsible for my actions.”

“Are they always like this?” Brynn asked, wrapping a napkin carefully around half of her hotdog so she wouldn’t spill mustard on her dress.

“Yeah.”

“It’s cute.”

“It’s annoying as fuck,” Jude countered, but there was unmistakable affection in the words.

“That, too,” Brynn agreed and bit into her dog.

They watched Bridges bat—a double off the wall in center-left—and the next two batters strike out, and Brynn ate her hotdog and Jude drank his beer and it was all a very normal all-American Saturday afternoon at the ballpark, and if she didn’t find a way to release the tension that had been building inside ofher since Tuck and Esme had burst into the apartment she was going to start screaming.

There had been a moment in the fourth inning where it had looked like a bench-clearing brawl might have been in the offing, but things had settled down quickly, and both teams had been playing nice since then. And as the side retired, Tuck and Esme went back to kissing.

“Give me a break,” Jude groaned and pitched his now empty beer cup at Tuck’s head.

The big man broke the kiss to aim a shit-eating grin over his shoulder. “Jealous.”

“Be nice,” Esme chided, wiping at her chin. It was free of lipstick this time, but only because it was already all kissed off.

“He is, though.” Smug, Tuck winked at Jude. “Aren’t ya?”

“Shut up,” Jude grumbled good-naturedly, laughing. But his cheeks were pink, and Brynn would’ve sworn there was a warning in the blue eyes aimed at Tuck.

She started to turn, wanting to see Tuck’s face, but the giant screen over the left field fence caught her eye. “Hey, Tuck,” she said, pointing. “You’re on.”

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