Lord Have Mercy (Southern Gentleman 2)

“You’re wrong,” he handed their kid over the chain-link fence, and she stood up to get him. “I would’ve fought over the baby and the dog. You can have the bed, though. You get more out of it than I do.”

I rolled my eyes.

The bed was a bone of contention with the two of them. While Raleigh had been pregnant, they’d gotten a new bed. The bed had turned into Raleigh’s favorite thing while being pregnant, and Ezra accused her and the bed of having a love affair and her loving the bed more than him.

Honestly, the bed was really nice.

I’d considered getting myself one exactly like it, that was how nice it was.

“Ezra, why does he smell like ass?” Raleigh wrinkled her nose.

“Because I had to use an old gym sock to wipe his ass after he shit himself. You’re lucky that I cleaned him up at all. It was a close thing.” He turned and walked away without another word.

“He’s right, you know,” I pointed out. “He could’ve just as easily left him dirty for you to clean him up yourself.”

“Meet me in the bathroom. I have to go get him wiped down. This is disgusting.” She wrinkled her nose even more.

“I told you that boys were gross,” I told her.

She flipped me off and pushed through the crowd, not stopping until she’d made her way into the bathroom.

Luckily with the game starting up, everybody had made their way to the seats instead of hanging out around the concession stand and the bathrooms.

Unluckily, despite the game starting, there was still a line.

“Just push up there and use the sink,” I told her. “He’s not dirty. You don’t need one of those stalls.”

“True,” she murmured, heading in the direction of an open space along the sink area.

I pushed through with her, leaning in to check my face out in the mirror.

I had sweat dripping down my spine, and I had a fine sheen of it coating my face.

It was hot as balls outside and coming up here after a workout wasn’t helping matters.

“Gross,” Raleigh muttered to herself.

I looked at her son in the mirror and grinned at the onesie she had on him.

“I like the onesie,” I said. “I especially love the ‘Duff’ at the top. Did you get it made?”

“Etsy,” she answered. “I bought it like eight months ago and it fits him perfectly. How cool is that?”

She turned the front around so I could see, and I smiled even wider. “My daddy is the coach?”

Raleigh grinned.

“Excuse me, but there are people that are actually here to use the facilities,” an annoyed voice said from behind me.

I nearly broke myself with how hard I rolled my eyes.

“Sorry, Nivea,” I apologized, backing away from the sink.

Nivea shoved through the hole I’d made and pushed me sideways. It took everything I had not to punch her in the head.

Instead, I tapped Raleigh’s shoulder. “I’m going to wait outside for you.”

Raleigh nodded, her eyes wide and angry.

Yet she didn’t say anything, just like I didn’t.

Unfortunately, we were in a public place, representing our school where we worked at that. There were at least six students in here who knew either me, Raleigh, or Nivea. A showdown in the bathroom would make its way through the entire student body in seconds.

Making my way past the women still waiting in line, I pushed through the door and moved into the shadows, snugging up against the chain-link fence that ran along the back of the bathrooms.

The chain-link fence separated the parking lot from the field so that you couldn’t sneak in without paying first. Not that it was all that expensive to get in. Three dollars for students and faculty, seven for adults, and one dollar for senior citizens. Really, the school made their killing off of the concession stand.

I mean, who would pay seven dollars for a plate of crappy bulk-sized tortilla chips and a large helping of crappy yellow cheese?

Well, the old me would have. I’d been a freakin’ sucker for the good stuff.

Now? The new me? I had a will of steel.

That was why I was forcing myself to ignore the craving.

Oh, and I’d also left my wallet in the car. I wouldn’t be tempted to be bad!

Though, having Flint there to watch my every move—or potentially watching my every move—was enough encouragement to contain my wants and desires.

“Why are you standing in the shadows?”

I jumped nearly a foot and whirled, heart pounding somewhere in the vicinity of my throat, and stared at the man I’d just been thinking about.

He was leaning against the fence almost casually, almost as if he’d been hiding himself.

“Nivea’s in the bathroom and I want to avoid her at all costs,” I admitted, leaning against the fence with one shoulder. “But I don’t want to leave completely because Raleigh’s in there washing her son off with wipes.”