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Behind me, I hear whispering. “—sorry, Chip Peters is back.”
“What?” Lainey screeches.
I frown. How bad is Chip around Lainey? I’m going to have to keep an eye out.
“I didn’t know. I didn’t even know he was back or that he was coming here. I swear it.”
“You should have told me before.”
“But I wanted to see you, and you wouldn’t have come over if I told you Chip was coming. He’s just dropping something off. Go hide in the bedroom. I’ll signal when it’s safe to come out.”
I don’t even need to look at Lainey to know what kind of silent, disapproving expression is on her face now. It’s not the duh one, but a mom face. A face you learn when you give birth. My mom has directed it toward me a hundred plus times in my life.
Face set in stone, Lainey comes over and picks up Cass, who squirms unhappily.
“I’m coloring,” she protests.
“We need to go into the bedroom.”
“I don’t wanna. I wanna color.”
“Cassidy Jean, it’s time to go to the bedroom.”
“Oh God, I’m sorry.” Charlie wrings her hands.
Chip knocks again. Lainey runs an agitated hand through her hair and sends me a frustrated look.
“It won’t take but two seconds,” I promise.
Lainey gives me a curt nod and sets Cass down. The little one picks up her crayon and proceeds to ignore us tense adults.
I pull open the door. Chip greets me with a wide smile. “Brought your tape, man.”
“Thanks.” I reach for the tape, but Chip pulls it back.
“This your place? Something smells good.” He pokes his head inside.
I shift to block his view. “Charlie’s cooking.”
“Oh? Beautiful and a good chef? Is there anything she can’t do?” He moves again.
This is stupid. I hold out my hand. “Yeah, and the food’s getting cold. If I don’t get to the table, she’ll kill me.”
“I need to show you a couple of things. Coach wanted me to run over week thirteen.”
I grimace. Week thirteen last year was one of my worst of the season. It was my second start and I threw five interceptions. Reluctantly, I take a step back and let Chip in.
“Hey, good look—” he starts to greet Charlie but pulls up short when his eyes land on Cass and Lainey.
“When the team told you that you need to do charitable work, they didn’t mean for you to bring it home.” Chip’s snide remark is delivered in a low voice, but the stiffening in Lainey’s shoulders tells me she heard him.
“Are you talking about Charlie?” I deliberately misunderstand him. “She pays her own way. I’m not funding this palace on my own.”
“I wasn’t referring to Charlotte,” Chip hastens to correct me. “I know she’s all class. Hey, gorgeous,” he says, walking up to give Charlie a hug. She stares at me wide-eyed as he gathers her into his arms like they’re old friends.
I hold my hands up in confusion because I don’t know why he’s hugging her.
She pats him awkwardly on the back. “Nice to see you, Chip. You know Lainey, right?”
He barely gives Lainey a nod. “Hey, I smell something awesome. You’re beautiful and you cook? Marry me, Charlotte.”
She shoots a glance over to Lainey, who looks up to roll her eyes. She’s quieted Cassidy down and has her on the sofa looking at a picture book.
“It’s a kit I picked up from a store.”
“Yeah? Tell me more.” Chip crosses his ankles as he leans against the kitchen island.
“It’s a place that specializes in prepackaged dinners you cook at home. I thought it might be good for the single guys so they don’t have to eat out all the time.” Charlie’s reluctance to chat couldn’t be more obvious, but Chip is clueless.
“Like me. I’m single.”
Jesus, he is laying it on thick.
“Well, um, okay.”
“I’ll stay and give you a client’s viewpoint.”
It wasn’t even a request. Charlie’s eyes dart toward mine in panic, but what can I do? I can’t really tell him to shove off because he’s my coach and I’m a second-year starter. I could lose my position to the next man up if I don’t produce on the field.
“Sounds good, Chip,” I say with false cheerfulness. I mean, really, how bad could dinner with Chip be?
Chapter Fourteen
Lainey
Dinner with Chip is just as excruciating as I suspected it would be. He takes every opportunity to get in a dig. Some of them Charlie catches and some, related to Chip’s and my tangled past, go over her head. I’m grateful for that. I wish they were all so obscure that only I understood them.
When he compliments Charlie on how great she looks, he makes sure to emphasize her great taste in clothes. My style has evolved from leopard prints and sequins to cream-colored swing skirts, to cover my ample hips, and belted cardigans, to emphasis my small waist. But at seventeen, when Chip and I hooked up, my clothes were either appropriate for church or the corner of the street.
