Chapter Thirty-Two

“Let’s get Oreos,” Ruthie said.

“Only if JohnScott has milk at his house.” I was strolling through the United grocery store with Ruthie later that day, snatching items for a cookout at JohnScott’s double-wide, while the coach and the preacher got soft drinks from the next aisle over. Ansel had offered the four of us free steaks if we would drive the four-wheelers to his back pasture to check the pump on the stock tank. But JohnScott could get steaks anytime he wanted, so Ansel didn’t fool me with his thinly disguised ploy.

Besides, it didn’t take four people to check a water pump.

But we’d had a great time riding around the pasture all afternoon, and I didn’t mind sharing an ATV with my arms wrapped around JohnScott’s waist. He didn’t seem to mind either.

“We could get ice cream, too,” Ruthie said. “And crumble Oreos on top. Or make sundaes.”

“Velma probably has an ice-cream maker. How about homemade cookies and cream?”

“Do you have a recipe?”

“No, but I can look it up on my phone.”

“Not in here, you can’t,” Ruthie said. “The Wi-Fi in the United is terrible. I think it’s the metal roof or something.”

The store intercom squeaked, and the manager’s voice came through loud and clear. “Ruthie Turner … I hear you.”

She tilted her head back and called over the shelf, “You sound like God when you do that, Gene.”

Dodd came around the corner carrying a couple of two-liter drinks, which he placed in our shopping cart. “JohnScott went after potatoes.” He swept his hand down Ruthie’s spine. “Giving your manager a hard time again?”

“He deserves it.”

“I’m craving homemade ice cream.” I pushed the cart toward the front of the store but jerked to a stop when I almost ran into Sophie Snodgrass.

“Fawn, look at you.” She chewed her gum noisily. “Haven’t you had that baby yet?”

I slipped my bottom lip between my teeth before answering. “Not for a while now.”

“Well, darlin’, you still look good. I bet you haven’t gained fifteen pounds.” She parked her cart and leaned her elbows on the handles as though settling down for an extended conversation. “Land sakes, with my first baby, I gained over sixty.” She giggled. “Not sure I ever lost all that fluff, but you sure don’t have that problem. If anything, you’re underweight.” She lifted her chin to Dodd and Ruthie. “Wedding plans coming along all right?”

“Everything’s falling into place.” Ruthie pulled Dodd down the aisle. “We’ll go find the ice-cream ingredients, Fawn. Meet you at the register in a few.”

I could have kicked her for leaving me, but just then, JohnScott rounded the corner behind the hairdresser. His steps faltered, but just as she turned, he strode toward me and put a bag of potatoes in the cart.

“Why … Coach Pickett.” Her jaw fell open comically, and she looked back and forth between us as though she were seeing an apparition. “You’ve … got yourself some potatoes, there, don’t ya?”

“Yep. Cooking steaks on the grill, so I’ve got to have baked potatoes.”

“Sure enough, you do.” Sophie grinned, nodded, then spun her cart around. “Good game last night, Coach. See you later, Fawn.”

I wondered if she paid for her groceries or merely abandoned her cart so she could get to her Suburban and start calling her friends.

“I think we just went public,” JohnScott said. “In a pretty big way.”

Doubt immediately rankled my confidence, but when smile lines spread across JohnScott’s cheeks, I couldn’t help but smile back. Going public would undoubtedly have negative effects on both our lives. But for the moment, it felt really good.

 

An hour later, I sat with Ruthie at an umbrella-covered table on the back deck of the double-wide while JohnScott sizzled steaks over charcoal and Dodd tended a screeching ice-cream freezer.

“So, I guess this is a double date?” Ruthie looked at me over the rim of her glass as she sipped her Dr Pepper.

I glanced at JohnScott and shrugged.

Ruthie squinted at him and yelled over the din of the motor. “Is this a double date or what?”

He walked closer to us. “Well, little cousin, I wasn’t sure until I saw Sophie, but now I’ve decided it might as well be.”

“True.” Ruthie sipped her drink again. “A double date … Fawn, this is sort of creepy, but Momma once told me she and your mother double-dated back in high school. I don’t know who the two guys were, though.”

“I can’t picture Susan and Aunt Lynda doing anything together,” JohnScott said.

“One of the guys was probably my dad, but—” I swallowed my words.

JohnScott whistled, then slowly backed away from us. “I think I’ll go back over there where I can’t hear you.”

Just then, the ice-cream freezer stopped.

“You’re stuck now,” Ruthie deadpanned.

“Am I missing a juicy conversation?” Dodd stepped across the deck.

“The girls are discussing how Fawn’s dad dated both their mothers in high school.”

He frowned. “Man, I’ve heard that one. Anything new?”

“No, but there will be by Monday morning,” JohnScott said.

“Sophie?”

“Not to mention Luis Vega bagged our groceries.” JohnScott’s cell phone chirped in the pocket of his cargo shorts, and he answered it as he forked the steaks onto a platter.

A few minutes later, he pocketed his phone and set the steaks in the middle of the table. “That was Dad. My quarterback’s grand­father gave him a call a little while ago.”

I frowned. “He called your dad with football business?”

“Uh-oh …” Ruthie crooned the word like a door chime.

“He’s worried I’m distracted and won’t be able to focus on the remaining games of the season.”

“You only went public an hour ago.” Ruthie leaned her head back. “The fun begins.”