Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,12
people gotta eat too, Braxton. Get a move on.”
Got to love juniors who think they own the town. “Oh, my bad.” I gesture to Laura. “Laura was just asking if we’re ready for the season. Are you? I know I am because I was on the field today, but I didn’t see you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Conditioning week isn’t required.”
“Real players don’t miss a chance to practice.” Turning back to the counter, I ask, “Actually, can y’all throw in an extra pint of barbecue? We have someone else working with us now and she might want some. Take all the time you need.”
Laura’s face falls slightly, but her smile returns as she shrugs a shoulder. “No prob.” She disappears into the kitchen and returns with the container, which she stuffs into the bag. “So I guess the rumors are true? About the pretty new girl at y’all’s shop?”
Well, that took less than a week to get around town. “You could say that,” I tell her, grabbing the bag. “How much do I owe you?”
She shakes her head. “No charge. Tell your momma I said hi.”
“Will do. Night, Laura.”
If looks could kill, I’d be dead and buried thanks to Matt. It’d be hilarious if he wasn’t such a prick. I slap his shoulder on my way to the door.
With my bag packed to the brim, I climb back into my truck and speed through town to the shop. I probably should’ve called to make sure that Marisa was still there before I got extra food, but it’s not like you can go wrong with extra food. I mean, it’s food.
Her Mazda and Momma’s car are the only ones left on our patch of Main Street. Bag in hand, I head for the shop. A blast of wind chills me straight to the bone as I tug on the door’s handle, but they’ve already locked up. I knock on the glass, praying that one of them opens soon because, God almighty, it’s freezing. A minute or two passes with no answer. My teeth chatter as I knock again. Marisa pops up from the counter, and I can hear her yelp all the way out here. She jogs across the display room and clicks the lock, the door jingling as she opens it for me.
“It’s about time. Freezing my rear off out here.” I step inside and jump up and down a couple times, trying to get my blood pumping. “You didn’t waste time locking the door tonight, huh?”
“Try dressing in something other than a T-shirt and baseball pants, Floral Prince. Then you won’t have to worry about that precious rear.”
My rear is pretty precious, if I say so myself.
She unties her apron on the way to the counter. “It was swamped tonight. I was counting down the minutes until closing.”
“A rush is good for ya. Makes time go by faster. And you can handle it. You’re a natural at the whole service-with-a-smile thing.”
“Well, it’s easy if you’ve had a good teacher.”
She stops just short of the counter, hangs her head, and sneaks a look at me over her shoulder. I don’t have a clue what to say to that. She reaches for her jacket and I head for the back room, flipping on the light switch. The tiny space is just big enough for a few boxes of extra stock, a table we use for making arrangements, and a couple folding chairs. I set up the chairs beside Dad’s old trunk, which doubles as our dinner table.
“Hey.”
I whirl around, finding Marisa leaning against the doorframe. My mouth drops open a little. Her face is flushed, and good Lord, I’ve never seen a girl look more gorgeous with messy hair and bright red cheeks.
“Your mom’s up in her office,” she says, jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “She might be a while. She has to finish up some order stuff because she couldn’t get to it earlier.”
I have no idea why, but my tongue feels like it’s glued to the roof of my mouth when I’m in the same room as this girl. And when I do open my mouth, something stupid usually tumbles out.
“Do you eat food?”
Like that.
She laughs so hard, she snorts. I’m pretty sure I’ve never made a girl snort before. She covers her mouth, her shoulders shaking as those eyes of hers crinkle, just like they do every time she smiles. And my stomach does its flip-flops, just like it does every time she smiles.
Nudging the brim of my