Fair Game: A Football Romance (29 page)

She gasps and lays her hand on her chest. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

I hand it to her and watch her weave her way through the racks to the changing rooms.

“How’d you do that, Vie? You have the worst sense of style of anyone I know,” Mom says.

“Shut up, Mother. I do not.”

“Yes you do. You have a personal shopper choose all your clothes.”

“Because I don’t have time to shop, not because I can’t choose my own clothes.” I don’t know why I’m arguing with her about this. She’s right. I can’t put together an outfit to save my life. I suck at fashion. Thankfully, the dress code at Facebook is pretty relaxed.

Mom rolls her eyes at me and disappears into a dressing room with three of four suits while I keep looking for myself. It’s not totally my fault that I’m clueless when it comes to fashion. I’m short, and I have breasts and curves—a lot of things just don’t fit.

“May I help you?” a saleswoman says from behind me.

“Oh, I’m still looking. Thanks, though.”

“I noticed you were looking at bikinis. I thought you might like a couple of my favorites,” she says, holding up two adorable suits.

“Did my mother put you up to this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at the young saleswoman. A frown wrinkles her forehead and she looks lost.

“Never mind. Yes, I’ll try those. Thanks,” I say, snatching the suits and heading for the changing rooms.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say when I’m shown to a stall next to hers.

“No problem,” she calls out.

.

I put on the first suit, and it’s a perfect silver bikini with thin slashes at the hips and a halter-top that makes my breasts look great. I’m looking at myself in the three-way mirror when Mom steps out in a white tankini that could almost pass as a bikini. She looks great.

“Where’s Kimber?” she asks, and I hitch my thumb toward her door.

“How ya doing, Kimber?” she asks.

“Fine,” she says with zero enthusiasm.

Mom and I look at each other.

“Let’s see how it looks,” Mom encourages.

The door opens slowly and Kimber steps out, all legs and long black hair spilling over her shoulders, looking like a pregnant
Sports Illustrated
model.

“You look gorgeous,” Mom gushes, and she really does look great. I can’t imagine ever looking that good in a swimsuit pregnant, but then I can’t imagine looking pregnant at all.

“You think it’s okay? Not too revealing?” she says, running her hands over the cutouts on the sides.

“No, it’s perfect, just the right amount of peek-a-boo skin exposure,” I say.

“I love both of yours too,” she says, and we all take one quick turn in front of the mirrors and change back into our stuffy bridal shower dresses.

In the car, we decide to stop at Target and grab some towels and sunscreen, and I can’t help but scan every aisle hoping for another run-in with Major. But sadly, there’s no sign of my collision partner today.

“You’re going to have to ask Taye to get his number for you. I doubt he hangs out at Target a lot,” Mom says under her breath in the checkout line.

“Hush. I wasn’t looking for him.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Looking for whom?” Kimber asks.

“Oh, nobody. Just this guy who bumped into me here yesterday,” I say like it was nothing.

“A hot Marine that she just happened to bump into again last night after dinner at the bar, and she went home with him and he’s coming to the wedding with her,” Mom adds, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.

“What? You went home with a Marine, and you’re bringing him to the wedding? Violet, you’ve been holding out. Tell me about this,” Kimber says.

“Mom pretty much covered it. We bumped into each other twice, he’s hot, he’s a Marine, and I uh . . . I went home with him last night.”

Kimber lays her purchases on the conveyer belt and looks at me with her mouth hanging open.

“Wow, some girls get all the luck,” she says.

“It was a one-night stand. No biggie, it’s what I do.”

“A one-night stand that’s coming to the wedding with you?” she asks.

“We didn’t even exchange numbers. He said he would go, but you know guys will do or say anything to get into your pants,” I say, praying my words aren’t really true.

“He’ll call, and if he doesn’t, we will find him,” Mom says confidently.

“Mom, I’m not hunting him down and holding him to his word. If he wants to go, he will find a way to contact me.”

“I bet he calls. Your brother’s a Marine, and those guys stick together,” Kimber says.

The conversation is cut off when the cashier starts chatting with us about the weather and two-for-one sunscreen prices.

When we get to the beach, we take turns holding up a towel in the back seat of the car to change into our suits. When our tops are all tied and our bottoms adjusted into place, we grab our towels and some snacks we picked up at Target and head out onto the warm sand.

I set up three lawn chairs near the water, and we all sit down and moan when the sun seeps into our skin and the water laps at our toes.

“This right here is heaven on earth,” I say, and they both murmur in agreement.

“I miss this,” Kimber says.

“The beach?” I ask.

“No. Well yes, but I meant I miss just hanging with friends. I’ve been so sick with the pregnancy until recently, and none of my friends know what to say about the divorce, so they just sort of don’t say anything at all.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be. It’s been an eye opener for sure. You learn who your real friends are when something like this happens.”

Mom reaches over and pats Kimber’s hand and we all sit for a while, soaking up the sun.

I’m dozing off when suddenly the sun isn’t glowing inside my eyelids anymore. Something is blocking the sun—something big. I open my eyes and find Captain Garcia standing in front of me with his hands on his hips, wearing only a pair of running shorts and Asics, breathing hard.

“I thought that was you,” he says out of breath from running on the beach.

I look up at him and shade my eyes. He is all glistening solid muscle and ten times hotter with no clothes on. I mean, I thought he was a sweet guy last night, flirting with me and trying to help me with my shirt, but wow, I had no idea all of this was hidden under that blue button-up shirt.

“Garcia, right?” I say, even though I’m sure who he is.

“Yes, it’s nice to see you again. I’d offer to shake your hand but I’ve been running and . . .” He holds up his sweaty hands to explain himself.

“Oh no, that’s okay. It’s nice to see you again too. I can’t seem to turn around without running into a Marine lately,” I say with a chuckle.

“Yeah, there’s a lot of us here.”

Mom perks up and not so subtly elbows Kimber, who has fallen asleep.

“Are you going to introduce us to your friend, Violet, or are you going to be selfish and keep all the Marines to yourself?” Mom asks. Sometimes I wish I had an old, grey haired mother who loved to bake cookies and do needlework on the couch watching
Wheel of Fortune
all day. But she’s not that kind of mom.

“Oh, of course. Mom, this is Captain Garcia. He’s a friend of Major Steele’s. Captain Garcia, this is my mother and my friend, Kimber.”

He nods politely at my mother, but his eyes light up when he looks at Kimber.

“Nice to meet you, ladies.”

“So you’re friends with the Major?” Mom asks, and I know exactly what she’s going to ask next, but I can’t think of a way to stop her fast enough.

“Yes, we met Violet last night at the Blue Water Bar and Grill.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have the Major’s phone number, would you? He somehow forgot to give it to Violet.”

Oh, God. I knew it. No tact. She just blurts out what she wants to know without a thought that she may be embarrassing me to death.

Garcia looks panicked. It’s obvious he doesn’t want to give out his buddy’s phone number. I’m sure they have some sort of bro code where they’re not allowed to disclose any information without permission.

“Mom, stop it. If Major wants to call me, he will find a way. Don’t bully his friend for the number. I’m really sorry. She has no manners. Don’t mind her,” I say to Garcia, and his worried expression eases into relief.

“Well at least give him
your
number, Violet. I can’t believe you two didn’t exchange numbers this morning,” Mom says.

“This morning?” Garcia says, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes, can you believe she spent the night at his house and neither of them remembered to exchange numbers? Ridiculous . . .” She rolls her eyes.

Garcia’s jaw drops. I think he’s going to say something, but the words don’t make it out of his mouth.

“You okay?” I ask, shielding my eyes when he moves out of the path of the sun.

He shakes his head, snapping from his mini reverie. “Yeah, sorry, it’s just . . . well, the Major doesn’t take women to his house . . . ever. And he never spends the night with anyone either. I’d better get your number and give it to him in case he doesn’t have it—but I’m sure he does. He’s very resourceful, but I don’t want him pissed at me if I don’t.”

Poor Captain Garcia is rambling and fumbling for his phone in his pocket. When he finds it, I give him my number, and when he’s done entering it, he bites his lip and looks back and forth between Kimber and me. I swear he looks at her left hand for a ring. When he doesn’t see one, I watch him gather up his nerve, and before I can interrupt, he goes balls out and asks for her number too.

“I know it’s really forward and all, but I wonder if you’d give me your number too, Kimber. Maybe we could go for lunch sometime.”

Now
my
jaw is in
my
lap as I turn to Kimber to see how she’s going to handle this.

She cocks her head sideways, narrowing her eyes.

“You see this, right?” she says, pointing both fingers at her protruding baby bump.

“Yes, ma’am, I do,” he says, not missing a beat, and I’m fucking impressed as hell.

“And you still want to take me to lunch?”

“Yes, if you’d like to.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “555-423-5519. I’m only here for a week.”

“Then we should make every minute count. Dinner tonight?”

Man, this guy is smooth. I think I may have fallen a little in love with him myself just now, and I’m pretty sure Kimber’s smitten judging by the blush creeping up her neck.

“We have a thing tonight. It’s for the wedding that we’re all here for. Would you like to come along as my date?” Kimber asks.

“Absolutely, I’d love to. What time should I pick you up and where?”

She looks at me. “Violet, do you remember what time we’re supposed to meet up?”

“Karaoke’s at nine at the same bar we were at last night.”

“Perfect, how about dinner first then?” he asks.

“Would it be okay if we made it a group thing tonight since I don’t know you? A girl can’t be too careful these days, especially when she’s pregnant.”

I’m pretty sure she added the pregnant comment to be extra sure he knows she’s not just sporting a gut. I cover my mouth and giggle.

“No problem. I’ll meet you all in the lobby at seven?” Garcia asks.

“Yes, see you then,” Kimber says, waving goodbye with the tips of her fingers. Garcia nods and takes off down the beach away from us.

“Holy shit, mama, you just scored yourself a Papi Chulo,” Mom says.

“Mom, where did you learn that?” I ask.

“Baby, I’m from Southern California, which may as well be Northern Mexico. A better question is why don’t you use expressions like that,” she says, swatting the air between us.

“Let’s get the hot preggo in the water. You look like you’re about to spontaneously combust, Kimber.”

Mom stands and reaches to help Kimber up. I follow them into the cool water and sink under for a moment of peaceful silence. This trip is nothing like I expected, and I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not.

When I surface, Mom and Kimber are talking about dinner tonight and I can’t help but hope Garcia brings Major. A part of me worries that he purposely didn’t give me his number this morning. And Garcia’s comment about Major never taking anyone to his house has me spooked. But on the opposite end of that spectrum is the thought that maybe I’m special and that’s why he took me where he never takes others.

“Can you believe that, baby? You and Kimber both have dates for tonight. Not twenty-four hours in Oceanside, and you’re both set up with dates for the week,” she says.

“You mean Kimber, Mom. I still don’t have the Major’s phone number.”

She waves a dismissive limp wrist in my direction. “He’ll have it before that Captain Garcia gets home from his run. Mark my words.”

“Thanks for going with me tonight, you guys. I know I didn’t ask ahead of time. I appreciate your not backing out. I never imagined I’d be asked out on a date like this,” she says, pointing to her tummy.