Below the Belt(53)
“Hey, Cook.” Higgs stopped beside her, with another Marine whose name she struggled to recall. The dark hair and tanned skin hinted at a Greek ancestry, though she wasn’t sure his last name had sounded too Greek.
“Hi. Here to see me, or Coach?”
“Neither.” The darker-haired one smiled, and she swore her own heart leapt just a little. Good Lord, he was handsome. As if understanding she was struggling to place his name, he added helpfully, “Sweeney.”
“Sweeney, right. Sorry.” She fought for a self-deprecating grin. “I suck at names. I’m just enjoying being able to yell out ‘Hey, Marine!’ and have an entire roomful look my way. Quite an ego boost.”
They both laughed, but she noted both their eyes strayed toward the coach’s door.
Then it hit her.
“You’re here for Brad. Costa,” she corrected quickly. Not quick enough, though.
“He’s in there, talking to Coach. We just thought we’d be here to take him out for lunch afterward.” Higgs stepped aside. “We won’t keep you.”
So polite. She nodded her head a little in acknowledgment. “Have a good break, boys. See you later. And make sure you rehydrate and stretch!” she called out over her shoulder.
*
BRAD walked out of the room, rubbing a hand over his hot neck. The coach had been pretty laid-back about the whole thing—even appreciative that he’d come straight out and explained it rather than sneaking around like moronic teenagers playing at Romeo and Juliet.
Coach’s words, not Brad’s. Apparently Coach Ace had a pair of “moronic teenagers” at home and knew the damage they could inflict.
He caught sight of Higgs and Sweeney hanging by the coach’s door in the gym. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
“Moral support,” Sweeney said simply. “We weren’t sure how that was going to go, so we thought we’d be here to put out any flames.”
Higgs walked a circle around him. “No smoldering clothes, no obvious burn marks. Must have gotten out unscathed.”
Brad pushed at Higgs’ shoulder. “I’m fine. It was fine.” Then he blinked. “How do you both know what I was about to do?”
“I’m a genius,” his roommate said. “And Sweeney there’s a mind reader.”
“Uh-huh.” He started for the door.
“Mostly,” Sweeney said, falling in step with him, “I just wanted to be here to say it was cool, in case it was necessary. I mean, I doubt our input matters that much to the coach, even if he made us group leaders. But if he started pulling some This is an unfair advantage crap on you, we were ready to go in and back you up.”
“Like a couple of Beyoncé’s backup dancers.” When Sweeney and Brad both halted to stare at Higgs, he grinned. “‘All the single ladies, all the single ladies.’”
Sweeney reached around Brad’s back and kicked Higgs’ knee so it gave out and made him stumble. “Don’t say stupid shit like that again. That was awful.”
“I appreciate the support,” Brad said, putting the conversation back in perspective, “but it didn’t come to that. He knows both Marianne and I are mature adults and can handle ourselves.”
They were both quiet a moment. “That’s all we get?” Higgs asked.
“Yup.” That’s all it really was, truthfully. Coach Ace had had very little to say on the subject.
“Come on.” Higgs slung his arm around Brad’s neck so he couldn’t escape, and started walking toward the parking lot. “We’re going to Sweeney’s for lunch and a nap.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Do you know when the last time I had a good couch nap was?” Higgs sighed, like he was thinking of a long-lost lover. “I miss my couch. Napping on a bed isn’t nearly as restful. Wonder why that is?”
“Your body’s conditioned to think it’s settling in for eight hours of REM-cycle sleep. So when you get up after an hour, it feels cheated.”
Higgs and Brad both stared at Sweeney. “No shit?” Higgs asked.
Sweeney shrugged. “I don’t know—I just made that shit up.”
“Lawyers,” Higgs muttered. “You’re lucky you’ve got a house with a grill, or we could never be friends.”
“Thank God,” Sweeney said dryly.
“Could you two Golden Girls knock it off? We’ve got less than three hours before we have to be back. No way in hell can we waste that on a freaking nap.”
Higgs got to his car and pushed Brad into the passenger seat. Sweeney crawled in the back. “Why not?” Sweeney’s head popped between the two front seats. “What else were you gonna do? Go running in this heat?”
“Watch training videos, or . . .” Brad ran out of options. The other man was right. It wasn’t like he could safely work out in the heat. He’d be exhausted for evening practice, which was the opposite of the point. “I don’t know. Hit up a salad bar or something.”
“I’ve got lettuce,” Sweeney said. Then he glanced to the side, mentally considering the contents of his fridge. “I think.”
“Let’s try an easier one. Do you have a frozen pizza?” Higgs asked as he started his car.