Page 69 of The Coppersmith Farmhouse (Jamison Valley 1)
of us, right?” she asked.
A smug grin spread across Jess’s face.
“Fine,” I muttered.
Once again, I had let Jess walk all over me and get his way.
“Baby,” Jess said.
I didn’t respond. My eyes stayed glued to the windshield.
I was mad at myself for letting him push me into this. I should have stood my ground and stayed home.
“Freckles,” Jess called again.
My silence continued.
When we were together, I never drove my car. He always went to the driver’s side and I let him. And since I was new to Prescott, if he drove, then he didn’t need to narrate directions. But I also knew it was part of his manly man ways. Jess drove. The end. When I didn’t answer, he pulled over to the side of the road.
Maybe I needed to rethink letting him always be the driver.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” I lied.
“You’re not.”
“I am.”
“You need to talk to me,” he said.
“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to sound sincere. “Let’s just get to the game. I’m hungry.”
“Georgia, tell me. Please.”
I turned to look at him, shifting my whole body in the seat.
“Jess, you’ve been working around the clock. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting to stay at home and spend some time together, you know. You didn’t even hear me out. We have to decide things together.”
“I should have listened. But tonight will be fun. You’ll like it.”
“It’s football,” I said, the word tasting sour.
“Give it a try?” he asked.
“Fine.”
He leaned across the console for a quick kiss before driving us to town.
We parked in a huge gravel lot, already packed full, and walked toward the stadium. Roe was in the middle, holding onto our hands as she skipped along in her suede boots.
The football stadium was much bigger than I would have imagined for a town the size of Prescott. After passing a long concession stand, we climbed a set of stairs leading to the bleachers above us. I took in the nearly full stands and then double-checked my watch.
The game wasn’t supposed to start until seven and it was only six-thirty. I figured we were early, but from the looks of the full crowd, I was wrong. The only empty seats left were located in the undesirable spots, up high and on the edges. Apparently, to be on time for a Prescott High football game, you had to arrive shortly after lunch.
Jess bent to pick up Rowen, who wrapped her legs around his waist with practiced ease. Then he grabbed my hand and pulled me behind him to the middle of the bleachers. About five rows up, he stopped by a row already quite full of people.
And of course it would be, the seats were perfect. Right in the middle. High up enough to see the whole field without the railing in your way.
