Page 53 of Last First Kiss
“Is that why I’m giving you rides left and right instead of the other way around? I always pictured a bodyguard would be doing the driving.”
She held out her palm. “Give me the keys and I’ll drive from now on.”
“Are you crazy? I’m not letting you drive this baby.”
“That’s what I thought. I feel the same way about Bob.”
“Bob?”
“My car. I named it Bob.” She shrugged.
“Bob? What a generic name.”
She shrugged as they parked in front of the club. “So what exactly happens here?”
“Depends. Today I promised we’d play a game of kickball. By the way, Paul should be here too.”
“Really? That’s cool.”
“Yeah. He loves being here too.”
“So kickball, huh? Oh, I can’t wait. I’m good at kickball.”
He snorted. “Relax yourself there, crazy. These are kids. I can picture you getting competitive.”
“I’ll be good. I promise.” She jumped out of the car and practically skipped to the entrance. He had on a hat and casual clothes, he felt safe here. No one knew he came to the club and it was in a bad part of town. The paps would never linger around. As soon as he walked in, twenty kids from five years old to fifteen, came barreling toward Rocco as Paul stood behind the mob watching.
She walked toward him and watched how excited the kids were to see him there.
“I’ve been making sock puppets for the last hour and no one even knows my name.” Paul laughed.
She snorted and gave him a smile. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Can’t complain. And you?”
Pretty good, thanks. So you guys come here every Sunday?”
“Pretty much. He only misses when he’s on location shooting. But I could stop coming and no one would notice. Rocco, on the other hand . . .”
“I doubt that’s true,” she said, and he shrugged. He was being humble; the kids surely loved him too. “And anyway, he does have a Ken doll made after him and you don’t. Makes him more noticeable.”
“Oh, he hates that, you should totally bring that up to him,” Paul teased as they stood on the sidelines watching Rocco greet all the kids. Her heart melted at how sweet he was with them. “He’s good with them.”
“He is. Always has been,” Paul said.
“How long have you guys been coming here?”
“Seven, eight years?”
“Wow. This would be great publicity for him.”
“Tell me about it. But he refuses. That’s not why he does it.”
One of the employees of the center stood on a chair and clapped her hands. “Okay, kids. Let Mr. Monroe go. Kids! Outside. The field’s ready.”
A chorus of happy cheers roared.
“Ready to get your kickball game on, crazy?”
