I forgot we were holding hands ...

We were ten feet or so from the doors when they suddenly opened. Lee’s Mom, Ariana Frick, stood there smiling at us, wearing the sort of power suit you see women politicians in.

“There she is!” she said, beaming at me. A furry little torpedo broke from somewhere inside, squeezed past Mrs. Frick and ran out to fall, squirming with excitement, directly amidst the three of us.

“Yoodle!” Lee and his mom both exclaimed.

The Benji-shaped dog wriggled some more. I laughed and bent down to offer the back of my fingers to the pooch, who left off being an animated dustmop long enough to lick my hand. “Yoodle, is it?” I said, still laughing.

The dog confirmed my guess with a short, sharp yip, then transferred its attention to Lee. “Down, Yoo,” Lee commanded. “Back in the house! You know you’re not allowed out front without a leash.”

With a shake and another yip, the little dog righted itself and dashed back through the open doors beside Mrs. Frick.

I had to laugh again. “Is it a boy or a girl?” I asked Lee.

“He’s a good boy, but for a while, we weren’t sure. I rescued him from a coyote when he wasn’t much more than a ball of curly fluff.”

I smiled at Lee. Of course, he rescued dogs. “Yoodle is a cute name,” I suggested.

“Well, his full name is Snicker Doodle — for his color.” Lee waited for me to stop laughing, then continued. “But the vet said he was probably a poodle/Yorkshire terrier cross. So—Yoodle.”

Mrs. Frick looked a bit annoyed and took a step through the door to get out of our way. “C’mon in, Pete,” she urged. “I’ve got some people who want to meet you.”

People? “I think I may be allergic to people, ma’am,” I offered.

She laughed. Lee’s hand touched mine, and I found myself holding onto three of his fingers again.

Nothing for it, so I followed her pant-suited butt through the doors, still holding Lee’s hand.

A wide living room held handsome Western-style furniture in a conversational arrangement around a big coffee table. Two men were just getting to their feet, and a woman younger than Mrs. Frick was already standing. They all smiled at me, and I smiled back, ignoring the itching.

One of the men I already knew — Coach Wilson from school. The older guy looked like another politician whose face I’d probably seen somewhere. I had no clue who the young woman might be. Yoodle checked out each visitor in turn then disappeared under the coffee table.

Lee spoke first. “Uh, Mom. Pete —that is— Gaylen prefers to use her first name when she’s not on the football field.”

I threw him a glance. Close enough to the truth, and I knew I certainly didn’t look like someone named Pete out of my uniform and pads.

Mrs. Frick took the ball and ran with it. “Mr. Grijalvo, this is Gaylen Petersen, known as Pete to her school friends. Gaylen, this is Mr. Grijalvo, the county superintendent of schools.”

“Pleased to meet you, Miss Petersen. I’ve read about you in the paper,” said the older man.

“Thank you,” I said, using what little air I had saved for such occasions. “I think I’ve read about you, too.” My right hand was still clasping Lee’s fingers, and I didn’t think I was supposed to shake anyway. But yeah, Mr. Grijalvo was locally known for his fights with the State about funding for Star County schools.

“Mrs. Frick,” Coach Wilson interrupted. “Pete, er, Gaylen and I already know each other.” He grinned at me, and I managed to smile back. I’d thought he was at his home hosting some of the team and a few dads to watch the Broncos.

“Hi, Coach,” I murmured. What the heck was going on with this ambush meeting?

Mrs. Frick wasn’t done, of course. “Margaret Lynch is a reporter for the Friendly News and writes about you in the paper, Gaylen,” she said, waving a hand toward the younger woman. “But I don’t know if you’ve ever actually met. Maggie?”

“No, I don’t think so,” the young woman admitted. “Coach Wilson keeps turning down my request for an interview.”

Huh? I already had a bad feeling about this.

“Well,” Coach stammered. “The guys wouldn’t want you in the locker room, I guess?”

Miss Lynch glared at him. “I wanted to interview Pete, not the guys. You told me she dresses out in your office.”

Coach looked confused and then really seemed to notice Lee standing next to me. I forgot we were holding hands long enough for him to notice that, too.

Things just naturally got worse.

“Hey?” Coach asked. “Are you two dating?”

Read ahead on Patreon