He smiles like a giddy little kid and I know I’m right. “You’re crazy. Put your seatbelt back on. The light just changed.” He chuckles. “You can attack me with your sweet lips in the parking lot.”
I flop back in my seat and secure my belt and can’t help but smile like a freak for the rest of the trip up the hill. My knee bounces up and down uncontrollably as we come to a crawl behind the thousands of other people headed in the same direction.
Dean places a hand on my leg. “You’re really that excited, aren’t you?”
“Yes! I am. I can’t believe this is your surprise, especially after what you sprung on me last night.”
He winces. “Just don’t tell any of my friends, okay?” he jokes. Dean pays for parking and we cruise through the lanes until we’re directed into a row and come to stop in an empty stall.
After taking the long walk up a few flights of stairs, I get chills when I see the entrance and catch a glimpse of the welcome sign, “The Los Angeles Dodgers Welcome You to Dodger Stadium.” Dean squeezes my hand and I pull him along until we’re at the gate.
“I wish I would’ve known where we were going. I’m not wearing any Dodger Blue.” I glance down at my casual attire. Jean capris, white Keds, and a stripped hot pink and white tee.
“Maybe you can get something at one of the stores inside.”
“Good idea. It’s going to get chilly by the time the game’s over. I’ll even buy you your first Dodger sweatshirt if you want.” I bump my hip into him, knowing he’s probably ready to gag. I know I would if he tried to dress me in anything with a big red A and a halo around it.
“Um. No thanks. The only thing in Dodger Blue I’m willing to wear is you.”
My mouth drops, forming an O around my lips. “Well that can definitely be arranged.” I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder, and he puts his arm around me as we wait for our turn to pass through security and scan the tickets Dean printed at his house.
When he shows me the tickets, I’m shocked senseless. He really knows how to surprise a girl. He’s secured field level seats under the overhang so we’re not blinded by the sun for the first part of the game. He just shrugs when I tell him he’s truly spoiling me.
We scope out our seats before going to a merchandise stand for my new hoodie. Dean says he doesn’t get cold, and I finally discover one typical man thing about him. I scan the options on a pin board hanging on a wall behind the cashier.
“Can I see the zip-up in a medium,” I tell the young girl whose working. I’ve been eyeballing this sweatshirt all season and now I finally have an excuse to buy it. I hold it up, feeling the soft fleece and running my fingers over the trademark Dodger symbol. “I’ll take it.” I hand the clothing back to the cashier so she can ring it up and open my purse so I can take out my card, but before I can, Dean has given her a card of his own. “Dean.” I put my hand on his forearm in protest. “No. You already bought these tickets. You don’t need to buy me anything else.”
“I know I don’t have to, sweetheart. I want to.” He winks. “Maybe I enjoy spoiling you.” The cashier gives him his card and he signs for the purchase before taking the bag from the girl and passing it to me.
“Thank you.” I cuff my hand around his arm and we walk side by side to another concession stand, but one with food this time. “Well, maybe I’d like to spoil you sometime.”
He laughs softly. “Not here, you won’t.”
And I have to laugh right along with him.
After getting four Dodger Dogs, two orders of fries—one garlic and one regular—and two large Blue Moon’s, we make our way to our seats.
“You suck, you know that?” he says when we’re finally sitting down.
I can hear the teasing in his tone and it makes me smile. “Why? What did I do?”
“You know exactly what you did.”
I don’t say anything. I just take my time getting comfortable, taking a sip of my beer and putting it in the cup holder in front of me. I take a handful of napkins out of my pocket and finally sit back and unwrap my dog.
When I don’t utter a word, he speaks up. “Well, don’t do it again, Summer. Don’t hijack my date, or my surprise.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I mumble through a mouthful of dog. But, of course, I know exactly what he’s talking about. I paid for our food and beer. Before the cashier could even tell us our total, I stuck my card in her face. Dean tried to protest but I pushed his hand away. He still hasn’t taken a bite of his food. Instead he’s trying to give me the evil eye but it doesn’t work. It comes off more as a playful pout. “Fine, I won’t do it again. I’ll just wait until it’s my turn to surprise you.”
“Dean, I thought that was you, bro.”
I look up to see a rather tall blonde dude in a Dodger shirt standing in the aisle next to our seats. I glance at Dean and he winces, shaking his head before he reaches over me to hold out his hand.
“Hey, man. You caught me,” Dean says, slapping hands with the guy.
“I sure did. I should probably get the hell out of here before lightning strikes down on the stadium.” He holds up his phone, seemingly taking a picture of Dean. “This is going on Facebook, bro. No one will ever believe I saw you at Dodger stadium.”
I crack up at the exchange, knowing very well Dean probably wants to shrink in his seat.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He places his hand on my thigh. “This is Ted, one of my best friends. And like you, he doesn’t know any better and he’s a fan of the wrong team.”
“I like Ted already,” I tell Dean, smiling at his friend. “I’m Summer.”
Ted smiles. “I know who you are. This guy hasn’t shut up about you for weeks.”
“I’ve heard about you too. Dean just forgot to tell me about your good taste in baseball teams.”
Ted gives me a good once over and looks back at Dean. “Lucky bastard,” he says. “We’ll have to get together soon. I think you’ve hogged Summer long enough.” To me he says, “My wife is dying to meet you.”
“That sounds great,” I say.
“I’ll call you,” Dean says as his friend starts to walk away.
Ted turns back and points a finger at him. “Don’t make me wait long.”
The game is slow moving through the first four innings against the D-Backs. Neither team has crossed home plate. It looks like they’re playing a game of catch out there. Dean keeps getting ribbing texts from his friends about being whipped after seeing his picture on various social media websites. He just shakes his head at each one and shoves his phone back into his front pocket.
I’d like to get out of my seat to hit the restroom after drinking the rather large beer, but I know as soon as I leave something exciting will happen.
“Oh, screw it,” I tell Dean, who appears startled. “I have to pee but I don’t want to miss anything.” I stand and look down at the smirk on his face. “What? Would you miss the game to take a leak?”
“Hell yeah. When nature calls, it calls. And missing a good play when the score is zilch wouldn’t be so bad. At least you’ll come back to a better game.”
I bend down to kiss his cheek before I take off to the nearest girls’ room.
When I return, I already know I missed something good. I could hear the roar of the crowd as I was washing my hands.
“What’d I miss?” I study the scoreboard. No outs, a Dodger on first and third.
“A hit and a stolen base.” He sits back and curves his arms along the back of my chair. I’d like to lean into his touch, but I can’t leave the edge of my seat.
There’s a crack of the bat and I’m on my feet again. The ball falls just shy of the fence in between right and center field. Kemp scores first, then Ethier rounds third as the throw comes in to second. Andre beats the throw to home and I jump up and down, yelling until I’m out of breath. I slap hands with the fans around me who are just as thrilled as I am to get some runs on the board. When the crowd noise starts to d
ie down, I glance back at Dean who’s still sitting, but has a huge smile spread across his beautiful face.
“That was awesome, wasn’t it?” I sit again, placing my hand on his knee and shaking it with excitement. I can barely sit still. I feel like a little kid who just stopped the ice cream truck.
Dean grasps my hand. “Sure was.” He shakes his head back and forth slowly, his expression hasn’t changed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He plants a quick kiss on the back of my hand. “You’re just amazing. That was so much fun to watch right now. I don’t know how I fell in love with a Dodger fan but I did. And if I get to spend the rest of my life watching you go crazy when your team scores a run, I’d die a happy man.”
I lean into him so we’re face to face. My palm covers his prickly jawline and I sigh. “You’re the sweetest man ever. Sometimes, I still can’t believe how lucky I am to be with you.”
The fans come to life again, but this time I don’t jump to my feet and look. This time I gaze into Dean’s dreamy blue eyes and then press my lips to his with one soft gentle peck. I wrap my arms around Dean’s neck and hug him close, my face nuzzled into his neck and my fingers combed through his hair. “I love you too.”
On the way home, I’m nestled comfortably in Dean’s car wearing my new cozy sweatshirt, holding his hand and listening to the radio as we make our way slowly out of the parking lot and back on the freeway.
“Thank you for another amazing surprise, Dean.”
He glances over at me with a slight smile. “It’s too bad they couldn’t pull off the win for you. That sucked.”
“Yeah, I’m sure you’re crushed.” We both chuckle. “Sure, a win would’ve been nice, but I had a great time so I can’t complain.”
“Good. That was the idea.”
“Hey, how about that Kiss Cam?” I sit up straighter. “The one time I come to a game with someone I can smooch and there’s not a camera near us.” I shake my head, feigning disgust.
Dean comes to a stop in traffic and turns his head completely to look at me. “What? I thought you said you go to games as often as you can.”
I did say that, didn’t I? He really listens. “Yeah, but I come with my dad. Sometimes my mom comes too. But I’ve never been to one on a date or with my significant other.”
He still looks confused, his brows furrowed into a cute little pinch between his eyes. “How is that possible? You’ve been in two long relationships and you love the Dodgers. How could one of those guys not have taken you to a game?”
“They weren’t baseball fans so I guess it wasn’t important to them.” I shake off his question like it’s not a big deal. I’d never really thought about it until he asked.
“But the game is important to you. It doesn’t take a genius to know how much of a fan you are. Just look at your license plate frame on your car and your entire collection of Dodger Blue in your closet. Not to mention the picture of you and your dad at the stadium, both of you decked out in jerseys.”
I squeeze his hand tighter and, if the traffic hadn’t picked up, I’d take off my seatbelt again and jump into his lap and kiss the crap out of him. “I can’t believe you noticed all those things, let alone mentioned them. I was still so in awe at how thoughtful you were to take me to get a massage and then you went and brought me to my own personal Disneyland … it just seems like a fairytale. Like any minute, I’m going to wake up and this will all have been a dream. You’re just too damn good to be true, Dean Michaels.”
“As are you, Summer McGallian.”
Chapter 13
Shelly
“Well, my love. It’s confirmed,” I say, smiling at the screen on my cell.
“What’s that?” he says, tossing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close to him. He has one hand settled on my ass and one on the remote, flipping through sports channels.
I put my phone in my pocket and cuddle up to his chest. “Summer and Dean have sealed the deal. Taken the plunge.”
He mutes the TV. “They got married?”
I sit up and look at him. “Are you crazy? No. They boned.”
He turns the volume back on and I relax into him again. “Why do you know this?” He chuckles. “Never mind. I know exactly how. Mel called to see how things went last night after the barbecue and Summer got the shake down.”
“You’re good, honey. Real good.”
“They’re good together. Don’t you think?” he asks, settling on watching a baseball game. “He’s whipped already.”
“You got that right. But so is she. I don’t think she has a lot of experience with guys. And the two she’s had relationships with turned out to be total dickwads.”
“Summer McGallian? Inexperienced? Are you sure about that?” Matty moves a hand to my head and threads his fingers into my hair, massaging my scalp and sending tingles all over my body. It feels just like when my stylist shampoos my hair at the salon. I swear if I was a guy, I’d pop a boner every time she massaged my head. I always feel like a dog wagging my tail and shaking my hind leg with pleasure, it’s that good.
“Well, you know how we had it all wrong about Summer being the tramp slut who stole Chase away from me? You know how he told her that we were broken up and she actually waited months to get with him?”
He’s still rubbing the pads of his fingers into my head, and I’m surprised I can still talk. “Yeah, so?” he says.
“Well, that’s not the only story we got wrong.” I sit up and move around until I’m lying comfortably with my head in Matty’s lap and my feet stretched out along the sofa. Then, I reach back, take my husband’s hands and place them back on my head. “You massage and I’ll tell you a story.”
He gives me a smirk but his fingers start to move and I let out a slight whimper at his touch. I go on to tell him about the girl talk from yesterday. This whole time Mel and I, along with many other females at work, thought Summer was a total ho-bag. Rumors had spread like wildfire when she started working with us. I never had the chance to confirm the gossip, I didn’t care all that much until she started seeing Chase. I just assumed all the talk was true.
Summer was screwing one of the security guys. Not true. What really happened was she stayed late at school one day and locked her keys in her car. Instead of waiting for the auto club, the dude offered to take her home to get her spare key. Nothing happened. She never got in the guy’s car ever again and she certainly didn’t date him, but someone saw the two of them together and things were said and embellished.
Mel asked her about Mr. Campbell, a married math teacher, who she was rumored to be having an affair with for months. Not true. Not even close. His wife and Summer’s mom are best friends. When the younger crowd of teachers were less than welcoming—cough, cough—she spent a lot of time eating lunch with her lifelong second father.
“Had any of us taken the time to get to know her rather than being bitches for the hell of it, we could have squashed the false stories long ago. Maybe she wouldn’t have even ended up with Chase and could have met a decent guy sooner.” I glance up and Matty shrugs.
“Maybe.” He pauses and I can almost see the wheels spinning in his head. “But then you and Chase wouldn’t have broken up and I would’ve had to take matters into my own hands and plot to make you mine. That dick would’ve tried to start something. And then I would’ve had to lay him out. So I guess it’s better that you guys were catty women and didn’t give her a chance.”
I sit upright, clicking my tongue at my husband. “Catty? I didn’t make up the stories. Neither did Mel.”
“Yeah, but you believed them.”
He’s right. Damn him. We both apologized to Summer for being “catty” to her when she first started teaching at our school. We just get a little territorial. And she was hot. Still is. And it’s hard to like a woman who is so naturally beautiful that men actually turn to stuttering fools when she’s around. What’s funny is that she doesn’t even realize how gorgeous she is.
That actually makes her even more likable. Along with her new attire of shorts and tees. Her work wardrobe of tight clothing made my stomach hurt. Who can suck in their gut all day to wear clothes like that? And her heels? They made my toes ache just looking at them.
Well, all that is over now and it’s time to move on. Like the old saying goes, “Let bygones be bygones.” Or the modern version, “Why you gotta bring up old shit?” No one is holding a grudge and things are smoothed over between the three of us women, so I think we’re good.
There’s a whimper coming from the baby monitor.
“Did you hear that?” I ask Matty.
“Yup.” He puts his index finger to his lips. “Maybe he’ll stay down.”
“Nope. He’s up. I can tell. You change him and I’ll get his bottle ready. Turn out the lights though.” As long as we don’t wake him up entirely, Noah should go back to sleep just fine. But if he sees the lights on and the TV, he’ll be ready to rock and roll until morning. He’s been sleeping through the night for a few months now, but every once in a while he awakes for a late night snack.
As we stand up, Noah starts his full-blown cry. “I don’t know how you do that, babe. It’s crazy how you can tell what he needs by the little sounds he makes.”
“It’s called motherhood.”
“Well, you’re the best mom ever.” He bends down and presses a kiss to my forehead before he hurries off to get our son.
When I walk into Noah’s nursery, my breath catches at the sight. There is nothing better than seeing my son cradled in my husband’s arms. Matty gazes down at our boy, humming a tune I can’t quite make out, while he sways back and forth. As I get closer, I can see that Noah is in fact awake, just as I knew he would be. He stares back at his daddy like he’s studying his face. I want to kiss his chubby cheeks, but I won’t. I know that my need to cuddle my baby is outweighed by his need to stay on a schedule that won’t make me and Matty pull our hair out. We all need our rest and to ensure that, we have to keep a routine.
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