Page 22 of Sweet Deal
“I’m sorry, what?” Understanding women wasn’t always his best strength, but right about now, he was horribly confused.
She heaved a deep sigh and loosening her safety belt, turned her whole body to face him. “I can’t think of anyone who knew me better than you did. Anyone who I felt more at home with. Or anyone I would have ever made a marriage pact with—even in jest.”
“I don’t understand. So, what’s the problem?”
Her lower lip seemed to quiver ever so slightly, before she lifted her chin and blinking once, leveled her gaze with his. “I guess, the long and short of it is, if this crazy idea goes south, then I’d lose you forever.” Holding her hand up, she shifted again. “It’s one thing knowing you’re living happily in California and if I were so inclined I could grab my phone, call you, and you’d be happy to hear from me. It’s a whole different story knowing that my calls will never again be welcome.”
“First of all,” his grip on the wheel tightened again, “I wasn’t living happily in California, and secondly, nothing that happens in the next year could possibly ruin our friendship. Hell,” he dared glance in her direction, “it’s only because we’re such good friends, can talk about anything, anytime, that I’m even considering this crazy idea.”
“So you agree it’s crazy?” To his surprise, her mood seemed to shift, and a smile threatened to appear.
“Of course I do, but this isn’t a childhood blood brother pack where we spit in our palms and shake. This is to save the Sweet Ranch and everything your family holds dear.”
Turning around to face forward, Rachel’s gaze fixed on something in the distance. “If you promise me that we’ll always be friends, then yes, we can do this.”
When she turned away from him, he’d braced himself for an absolute, positive, and not a chance in hell resounding no. Instead, he felt an odd urge to do a fist pump and howl at the moon as if this were a real proposal and a forever after response. Stilling his surging enthusiasm, he curtailed his smile and looked to her. “Sounds like we have a new deal. So.” Turning away, he refocused on the road. “Let’s get to town and cheer our team on.”
To his delight, a bright smile bloomed. “Go Hawks!”
On the edge of town, Jim pulled the truck into a spot near the high school stadium, the roar of the crowd already audible over the engine’s idle. Friday night lights. The sounds, the smells—popcorn, grilled burgers, cut grass—were instantly familiar, transporting him back years. It felt strangely good. Especially with Rachel beside him, a tentative excitement now replacing the worry in her eyes.
“Smells amazing.” Rachel sniffed the air as they walked towards the entrance gate, her shoulder brushing his companionably. “Popcorn is definitely required.”
“Absolutely.” Jim grinned, feeling way more at ease than he probably should be for a man who had just agreed to a marital business arrangement.
They navigated the crowded entrance, paid their admission, and immediately headed for the concession stand. Loaded up with a giant tub of popcorn and two sodas, they found seats midway up the bleachers on the home side, settling in just as the Hawks scored their first touchdown.
The crowd erupted. Without thinking, Jim high-fived Rachel, the shared moment of hometown pride feeling completely natural. The game was a nail-biter, the score seesawing back and forth. They cheered, groaned, and offered unsolicited advice to the referees along with the rest of the Honeysuckle faithful. Jim found himself easily falling back into their old rhythm—playful jabs, shared glances, finishing each other’s sentences about a botched play or a brilliant tackle.
The bleachers vibrated with stomping feet as the crowd roared. Fourth quarter, tied game, and the Hawks’ quarterback had just dodged three defenders to scramble for a crucial first down. Jim found himself on his feet alongside everyone else, his voice joining the collective cheer.
“Did you see that move?” Rachel bounced excitedly beside him. “Reminds me of Garret back in the day.”
“Kid’s got talent,” Jim agreed, settling back onto the metal bench. Their shoulders bumped, and neither moved away.
Her gaze riveted on the field, Rachel nodded. “We might actually make it all the way to state this year.”
“Popcorn?” Jim held out the nearly empty tub they’d been sharing.
Rachel reached in just as the running back broke free, streaking down the sideline. In the excitement, Jim’s arm jerked up, sending popcorn flying. Most of it landed in Rachel’s hair, a few kernels sliding down the front of her jacket.
“Sorry,” he managed between laughs.
“Smooth, Henderson.” Rachel plucked a piece from her collar and popped it in her mouth. “Very smooth.”
Their eyes met, and suddenly they were both laughing like teenagers again—the kind of deep, genuine laughter that made your sides hurt. The kind they used to share before life got complicated.
“Touchdown!” The announcer’s voice boomed through the speakers, and once again the stands erupted.
Rachel grabbed his arm. “We’re ahead with only two minutes left.”
The next plays unfolded in a blur of tension and noise. The visiting team drove desperately downfield, gaining yards in chunks that made the home crowd groan. With thirty seconds left, they were in field goal range—a tie game again if they made it.
“I can’t watch.” Rachel buried her face in Jim’s shoulder.
The snap. The hold. The kick sailing toward the uprights—and then veering wide left at the last possible second.
The stadium exploded. Rachel launched herself up with a scream of joy, throwing her arms around Jim’s neck. He caught her without thinking, lifting her slightly off her feet in the excitement of the moment.
