Not So Nice Guy(65)

“Yeah!” a chorus of parents agree.

“Also, what about our end-of-year fundraiser for the softball team?!” another parent demands.

Our trial is over. Principal Pruitt gets our attention with a small wave and tilts his head toward the door. It’s time to scram. We did our part by showing up, and I didn’t even have to apologize.

“Do you think I can take a cookie?” I ask Ian under my breath as we stand.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder like he’s worried I might give it a go. “I think O’Doyle made them. Better not push our luck.”

I sigh like I was afraid he’d say that.

“I’ll get you something on the way home. C’mon.”

A perky soccer mom with a blonde ponytail and a pearly white smile reaches for my arm, intercepting me before I reach the door. “Hey, I was going to tell you…” Her voice is barely above a whisper. “Between us girls, if you’re into whipped cream, you really ought to try some chocolate sauce warmed up just a little—not too hot though.” She winces. “Learned my lesson the hard way with that one, ha! Oh, by the way, I think you teach my son—Nicholas?”

Oh JESUS.

I run-walk the hell out of there.





24





S A M



Ian has a soccer game today, and I’m in attendance as always. Things are back to normal. The throngs of young, hot female teachers have moved on to the lacrosse game taking place a few fields over. If I squint, I can see their cleavage and orange slices. Oak Hill High just hired a new lacrosse coach from LA. He’s tan, and cute, and allegedly went on three dates with one of the stars from Vanderpump Rules. Ian is old news—my old news.

The soccer stands are pretty empty, just me and a few parents. I thought about remaking my GO IAN signs, but instead, I had a shirt printed. It has a large screen-printed picture of Oak Hill’s mascot and beneath that, in big, black typeface, it reads COACH’S WIFE. It lacks subtly, but then again, so do I.

Ian laughed when I showed it to him last night.

“I don’t have to wear it,” I said. I mean, it was kind of a joke.

But he shook his head, smile plastered wide. “No. Wear it.”

I had it strategically hidden under my sweater all day. If Nicholas had seen it, he would have spiraled. He still thinks he and I are destined for one another someday.

“I guess I understand that you need someone to bide your time with until I’m old enough.”

A shadow falls over me and I glance up to see Ashley making her way down the line of bleachers in my direction. I brace for the worst. After all, she’s all but been inducted into the Freshman Four (Five?). Maybe she’s here to do their bidding. I check her hands for knives and find them empty. There’s a chance I’m being a tad bit dramatic. I don’t think murderers coat their nails in baby pink nail polish.

“Hey,” she says, gaze falling to my shirt. She smiles. “I like that. Did you make it?”

I look down. “Oh, thanks. I, uh…had it printed.”

I wish I still had my sweater on. I feel silly now.

She nods and waves to the expanse of open seating beside me. “Is it okay if I sit here?” Again, I’m confused, but she doesn’t wait for me to think of an answer, just takes a seat and props her feet up on the bleacher in front of her. “Listen, I don’t care about you and Ian.”

My face is a mask of shock. “You don’t?”

She laughs. “I just started here. Why would I care who’s dating whom? I just thought he was hot, that’s all.”

“But you sit with the Freshman Four at lunch…”

“I sit with them because it’s better than sitting by myself.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, but it’s getting kind of old. I’m considering eating lunch in the library by myself from now on. At least then I won’t have to listen to Gretchen ask Bianca if mayonnaise has calories.”

I laugh.

There’s a chance I might have misjudged Ashley. Imagine that.

“So, how’s married life?” she asks, continuing the conversation.

I stifle a grin. Still, bliss oozes from my pores. “It’s been good.” My tone is even and cool.

She can tell I’m restraining myself. “Just good?”

It’s like she took a pickaxe to my self-control.

“Okay, it’s been really awesome—I mean, better than I thought it could be.”

She smiles. “I’m glad. You two are really cute together. And hey, sorry I stole your pudding cup the other day.”

Her apology means more than she knows. I was prepared to carry that incident to my grave.

I hold out my hand for her to shake. “Friends?”

She smiles and accepts. “I’d like that.”

I decide to go out on a limb. “Have you ever watched West Wing, by chance?”

Her face lights up. “I love that show!”



I’m waiting for Ian to finish up at the gym. It’s our one-month anniversary. It’s a big deal, and I’m going to seduce him when we get home. The Zumba class I just took should help with that. I’m feeling limber.

Ian is doing a set on a bicep machine and I’m standing a few yards away, sweat dripping down my body as I try to keep it together. His arms are so sexy. His face is chiseled perfection. If we weren’t already married, I’d demand we march down to the courthouse right now.