Kissin' Tell (Rough Riders #13)(49)

As they walked up to the gymnasium doors, Tell casually asked, “You nervous?”


“A little. How about you?”


“Nope.” He tucked her hand around his bicep. “I’m with the hottest girl in our graduating class, who also happens to be the sexiest woman I know. I remember promising myself ten years ago that I’d show up at this reunion bein’ the envy of all the other guys.”


“Did that fantasy include making all the girls in our class take notice of what a gorgeous hunk of man you turned out to be?”


Tell grinned. “Busted.”


“Then it appears both wishes will come true, since I will be the envy of all the women.”


“And that would be different from high school for you…how? Didn’t everyone want to be you?”


She didn’t crack a smile.


“What?”


“That’s an ironic statement because I didn’t want to be me in high school.” She withheld a frustrated sigh. “Do you think that’s what tonight will be about? Just an exercise in our classmates going out of their way to prove how much they’ve changed?”


“Possibly.” He smoothed a piece of her flyaway hair back in place. “Isn’t that why we’re here?”


“Now that I am here, I’m wondering why I came. Can we just go? Out for dinner or something? I’ll buy.”


“No. But I promise we’ll leave if it sucks, okay?” He kissed her. “I like the coconut-flavored lip gloss.”


The registration table was directly in front of one set of doors. And who was manning the table? Denille Swedlund. A fellow cheerleader. An easy piece for any of the jocks, anytime they wanted—a fact Denille used to brag about to Georgia, staring with disdain at her purity ring. Denille had offered Deck a hand job—a fact Georgia had found out from Denille herself after Deck had taken Denille up on the skanky proposition.


Denille looked good—but Denille wasn’t scoping her out at all. Her gaze stayed glued on Georgia’s date. “My God. Tell McKay, is that really you?”


“Yes indeed. Nice to see you, Denille, you haven’t changed a bit.”


Denille preened and handed over his badge. “The number on the bottom is the table you’ve been assigned.”


Tell raised his eyebrows. “You’re kiddin’, right? About the assigned seating?”


“No. The committee thought it would be fun.”


The other woman at the table, Nicki DeSoto, was also ogling Tell. “Hey, Tell, remember me?”


“Of course I do, Nicki. We had geometry together. So I’m guessing, since you were good at math, you’re an engineer or something?”


Nicki laughed. “No. I’m married. Living in Lander.” She scooted her chair out and patted her rounded belly. “Our first baby is due in October.”


“Congratulations.”


Denille finally deigned to look at Georgia. She handed over the button and said coolly, “Georgia. You’re looking…well.”


Georgia smiled. “You too. Do you still live in Sundance?”


“No. I live in Longmont, Colorado. I teach high school biology and I’m the head cheerleading coach.”


No surprise Denille taught biology since she’d had so much previous experience with male anatomy. Ooh. Snap. And as long as she was being bitchy, the phrase you can always tell the head cheerleader by her dirty knees popped into her head, which allowed her to give her former nemesis a genuine smile. “That’s great, Denille.”


“We weren’t sure whether you were even gonna show up,” Denille said.


“Someone convinced me it was a good idea,” Georgia said, slightly nudging Tell.


Tell plucked the button out of Georgia’s hand and murmured, “Hold still, sweetness,” pinning it above her left breast. Then he straightened it, letting his fingers brush over the swell of her cleavage with obvious familiarity. “There. Perfect.”


And perfectly sweet, his I’m with her display. “Thanks.”


He draped his arm over her shoulder, said, “See you lovelies inside,” to Nicki and Denille, and led her into the mouth of the beast—aka the gymnasium.


Georgia hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until Tell leaned over and whispered, “Come on, baby, breathe.”


A bar had been set up in the far back corner. He ordered a vodka tonic for her and a Bud Light for himself. Tell tapped his bottle to her plastic glass. “To makin’ our own rules tonight.”


“Good plan.”


Popular music from their senior year flowed from the speakers. They drank in silence, watching the action up by the makeshift stage—not that they could see much through the crowd. Georgia’s spine stiffened when she realized the crowd was gathered around Deck.


“You’ll spill all over your pretty dress if you keep crushing the glass.”


She glanced down. The sides of the cup were dented in. God. Why was she hiding in the corner? It wasn’t fair to make Tell her babysitter because she didn’t want to see her ex-husband and his groupies.