Page 26 of Cheap Shot
Her eyes drift shut, and a soft smile spreads across her face but is quickly replaced with a scowl. “You almost missed the entire game.” Her eyes flick to mine and narrow slightly. “Both of you.”
I point toward Beau, having no desire to get on Ramon’s bad side. “Not my fault, just along for the ride.”
If looks could kill, I wouldn’t exactly be dead, but I may be in a significant amount of pain.
Ramona’s eyes flick to the side. “And you? What’s your excuse?”
I turn to find Alise bent at the waist, her hand resting on her knees as she gasps for air. She holds up one of her fingers, begging for a second before answering.“Sorry, but it wasn’t my fault this time.”
She huffs a few more times before standing all the way up, her eyes locking with Beau’s for a few moments before flicking back toward Ramona. “I got off work late because Scott wanted some packet sent to all the new coaches for the spring ice hockey camp at the rink next week. Then he wanted me to verify the schedule for all the tryouts for August and get that sent back to him before I left at five. He gave it to me at four-fucking-thirty!”
“Breathe, Alise,” Beau mumbles, his hands opening and closing at his sides. “Deep breath in and then out.”
Alise’s eyes drift shut as she follows his instructions. I watch her chest rise and fall for a few moments, her hands motioning up and down in time with her breathing. “I am breathing.”
“But are you calm?” Ramona giggles, sending Alise into another tirade.
“No! I’m not calm. I swear that mother—” she begins but slams her mouth shut, probably remembering we’re at a kids lacrosse game. “Butthead has no idea how much time it takes to verify all the information from five different spreadsheets because, God forbid, we keep all that information in one palace. I swear if I didn’t love the free hockey tickets and swag I get just from working there, I’d quit.”
Ramona giggles softly. “You’d have free hockey tickets and swag whether or not you work that job.”
“Yes, I would. However, I could no longer pay my bills. Now, that would be a problem.”
“Definitely a problem,” Beau chimes in, pushing to his feet and giving her a one-armed hug.
Alise practically melts into his arms, wrapping her arm around his waist. “And what’s your excuse for being late?”
“How did you know we were late, too?” Beau questions, pulling away slightly so he can look down at her.
“Besides the fact that I saw you when I pulled in?” Alise steps away from Beau, taking her seat beside Ramona. “Ramona texted me, freaking out because no one was here at the start of the game. She was afraid the boys would feel some kind of way when their cheering sections hadn’t shown up.”
Beau recoils as if someone slapped him. “We never desert the boys, Mona. You should know that by now. When any of us say we are going to be here, we always show up.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. Darius and Ford were panicking before the game when they didn’t see you here. I tried to reassure them, but you know how those boys are.”
“Seeing is believing,” I mumble, and Ramona flashes me a blinding smile.
“Exactly. The more you show up for them consistently, the less likely they are to worry about whether you are going to be there when they need you.”
“So why wereyoulate?” Alise asks again, not willing to let this go.
“Momma made lasagna for dinner,” Beau and I respond in unison as both girls gasp loudly.
“And you didn’t bring anyone any?” Alise asks.
“We were in a hurry,” I respond, trying to smooth things over with both ladies. It seems that Beau isn’t the only one who would do anything for Momma’s cooking. “But she promised us a fresh batch of snickerdoodles after the game.”
“I like where you are going with this.” Alise and Ramona high-five, before Ramona says, “We can bring both the boys over. If I know Ms. Melanie, she has more than enough food in that house to feed an army.”
“Or in your case, two starving teenage boys.”
“Exactly.”
The crowd erupts loudly, causing us to turn our attention to the field. Ford slides across the grass on his knee, pumping his fist in joy before jumping to his feet. The entire team surrounds him, giving him high-fives and slapping him on the back.
“You must be proud,” I say to Ramona, putting what I think is a smile on my face.
Small talk has never been one of my strong suits, but with the woman who is potentially becoming my sister-in-law soon, I decide to give it a shot. But instead of responding, her eyebrows pull down slightly. “Proud of who?”
