Page 45 of Brett and Rowdy
But Ashley looked over the moon and, to be honest, was adorable with her neon layers and her little pink socks. It was very Debbie Gibson of her.
Rowdy was wearing exactly the same thing that he’d worn the day before and the day before that, a nice pair of jeans and the dove gray button-down.
Brett had the sneaking suspicion that if he went and looked in Rowdy’s actual closet at his house, everything would be exactly the same—work jeans. Good jeans. Gray button-downs. And then possibly a handful of flannel for the wintertime.
It appealed to him if he was honest.
He had on aBreakfast ClubT-shirt and a pair of jeans, so he was making a nod to the theme.
Rowdy leaned against his truck, looking like the Marlboro man. “It won’t take long. We’ll let Dan and Ashley dance a couple of dances, you’ll nod at people that we don’t remember, and then we leave. We’ll meet them at the bar for a couple of beers, and we’ll go back to your place.”
“And then what?”
“Well, hopefully fuck like bunnies. You can also say words and talk about your feelings and shout if you’d like, but, honestly, I think that fucking like bunnies sounds like way more fun.”
“God, yes.” He had feelings, sure, and he thought that Rowdy possibly did too.
But yeah, talking about them didn’t make any difference. They lived sixteen hundred miles apart. That probably wasn’t going to change, although he’d spent a goodly part of the afternoon thinking about what would have happened if he’d said yes and run away with Rowdy to New Mexico.
He would love to see where Rowdy lived, at least. Get a feel for why he loved it so.
The farthest West he’d ever been was Memphis, where he’d gone for a showing that he’d done of a big old statue the city had commissioned for downtown.
“Don’t leave me hanging, darlin’.” Rowdy held out the hand not holding Barney’s harness.
“Yeah, we need to get in and actually get a table.” He took Rowdy’s hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.
“I think we’re a little bit early, but I wanted to get Rowdy settled, because I know that he doesn’t love dancing.”
“Thanks, Ash. You know I can just cut a rug.” Rowdy’s face twisted up, the silly expression making them all chuckle.
“Tell us how you really feel, Rowdy.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I can totally do?—”
“Well, if it isn’t little Ashley Norton and her entourage.”
Brett blinked—both at the echo from the past and the ugliness that he heard. “Coach Avery? Hey, man.”
“Brett.” Coach Avery had been, or possibly still was, the girls’ volleyball coach. The man hadn’t aged too well really. He’d been young and dashing when they were in high school, the kind of guy who drove a convertible and was handsome and hip. Rumor was, if you were the right kind of kid, you could go to his house and have a beer, possibly even a joint. Brett wasn’t sure how true any of that was. Now, though, Jason Avery was just a dude in his mid-fifties. The man’s hairline had receded, he had a paunch,and his skin had the red spidery veins of somebody who spent way too much time with a beer bottle in his hand and not enough time running after loose volleyballs.
Ashley stiffened, her lips going so tight he couldn’t see the bright pink lipstick.
Rowdy moved closer to her, actually moving Brett over, and Dan tightened the space between them.
“What do you want?” Ashley’s voice was cold as ice, and all the color had drained out of her face, leaving her almost glowing.
Avery smiled at her, eyes dragging up and down her body. “Nothing, I was saying hi, just happened to see you, that’s all. You’re looking good, really. You’ve kept your figure. I like that in a woman.”
“Back off, Avery.” That was Dan, and he sounded pretty pissed, too. “We’re simply going into the reunion. We have nothing to say to you.”
“No? That’s not very friendly. I remember you used to be friendly, Ashley. Did I tell you I met your daughter the other day? It was amazing, the resemblance. I can’t believe I never had her in class. I have to tell you, she is absolutely delectable. It’s as if you’d been remade in your little Maddie, and I?—”
“Don’t you even fucking speak her name!” Ashley whispered, her voice shaking.
What the fuck was happening here? What was Coach Avery suggesting? What the hell was going on?
“No.” Rowdy said that one word—no. Then he handed Brett Barney’s harness. Brett took it, still confused and worried about what the hell was going on.
