"Yes, ma'am. Will do, ma'am."
Ma turns to Ripley and me. "Let's get our seats, shall we?"
She leads the way up to the third row where Grant and Wendy and Kyle are seated, and I throw a last glance back at Lou. His eyes are narrowed on me like he hasn't forgotten a damn thing, and his chin lifts when he sees my look. Some people never lose the chip on their shoulder.
When we slide down the row to take our seats on the blanket Grant laid out, he gets up to run Kyle to the bathroom. Wendy says she has to pee too, and my parents offer to get drinks and popcorn for everyone.
"That guy was interesting," Ripley mutters once we're alone.
I press a kiss to her temple like it's the most natural thing in the world. "That's small-town life for you right there. He's been harboring a grudge since our junior year of high school."
"Sounded to me like he's jealous."
I shrug. "Maybe. A lot of these people still remember me as a punk kid who drove a loud truck too fast and took out a few of their mailboxes, or maybe believed a rumor that I got their daughter or sister or cousin in the backseat. That's where it ends for them. Then they see me on TV and can't figure out how that punk kid got so damn lucky to be living the good life. Doesn't seem fair, I expect."
Ripley's brows draw together. "Do they not realize that you paid your dues to climb to the top? Or how hard you bust your ass to stay where you are? Or what you sacrifice to be away from your family? Or what it's like to have the paparazzi threatening to capture any moment of your life you think might be private? If they don't see all that, they're only getting a fraction of the picture."
Hearing Ripley leap to my defense so quickly and with such ferocity tells me that I'm making progress. It also turns me way the fuck on. I shift to face her and lift her chin before stealing a kiss.
"It sounds like you might actually like me," I murmur against her lips.
"Shut up. You know I like you."
I pull back a fraction of an inch and meet those stormy gray eyes. "I'm wearing you down. Pretty soon, you're gonna fall in love with me."
26
Ripley
Boone's words crash into my chest, and instead of causing a heart attack, they kick off a cascade of warmth that envelops me. This time, I'm the one who leans in and presses our lips together.
"Get a room, Thrasher!"
The call comes from below us, and I jerk back and look around. "Shit. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking. Crap. There could be pictures-" I'm ready to curl up with embarrassment when Boone lays his hand on my thigh and squeezes.
"Let 'em watch. You're my girl, and I don't give a damn who knows it. Especially not this asshole."
A big man approximately the size of a grizzly bear shakes the bleachers as he stomps up the three steps toward us.
"Damn, brother. It's been a coon's age!"
Boone stands and does this backslapping man-hug thing with the guy, and I'm worried that the giant might knock him down. Boone's over six feet tall, and yet this guy looks like he's around six eight with shoulders that are massive.
"Jerry Lee, you're gonna break my damn back one of these days."
"Nah, you can take it, tough guy. You didn't tell me you were coming back to town. I just heard the gossip running through the crowd all the way up at the announcer booth." He finally glances over at me. "You're a sweet little thing, aren't you? Boone, how you always finding the most beautiful women to take around? Do I need to sell a million damn records before I finally find a winner?"
Boone laughs his ass off. "No, man. You just gotta quit hanging out at the lodge with all the old men."
I hold out my hand. "I'm Ripley."
"Damn, even your name is super cool. I swear, this joker gets all the luck. You another country star, sweetness? Those lips and eyes could sell me a record without even hearing your voice."
"Hey now, reel it in. I'm not letting you put the moves on my girl right in front of me."
From his tone, I can tell Boone is joking, but also that his buddy likes the idea that he could put the moves on me, and Boone does it to puff up his ego. I've seen plenty of male posturing and weird behavior in the bar, so this isn't exactly new territory for me.
"I'm a bartender," I say. "I don't know about a record, but I could sell the crap out of some Jack and Coke."
"Shit, I guess I need to start spending a lot more time in bars."
Boone sits down and slides his arm around me again. "You ain't gonna find another woman like her. Guaranteed. So, what's going on, Jer? You came all the way down from the announcer stand to try and steal my girl? Because I'm not letting you snake this one like you did Cindy Hooper."