Page 29 of Kobalt

“My husband loves you, and so do our boys. Do you think I can get a picture with you two together?” she asked.

“You sure can. How about you get in the picture with them?” Kaimera suggested, moving from underneath my arm and reaching for the woman’s camera.

Irritation rose within me, but I moved toward the couple. “Hey, why don’t you wrap your arm around your wife, and I’ll stand behind the two of you,” I suggested.

“No problem,” the man declared, smiling brightly.

I stood behind them and posed for several pictures before Kaimera handed the phone back to the woman.

“What was that all about?” she asked as we walked away.

“What?”

“You acted like you were irritated.”

“I’m on a date with you; I’m not trying to cater to fans right now.”

She canted her gaze up at me as we strode down the street toward Silver’s Pub. My arm was hooked around her shoulders. “What?” I asked when she kept staring.

“I’ve accepted who you are and what comes with that a long time ago.”

“Including my need to bend you over that bench and take you right now?”

She swatted my chest and replied, “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with you.”

“Love me.”

“I already do.”

We took our seats on the outdoor patio where we had reserved a table earlier, close to the fire pit in case she got cold.

“I didn’t realize they had a Silver’s Pub up here in North Georgia too. It’s one of my favorite places back home.”

“There are a few of them around Georgia. I think there are seven, but the owner, Revere Silver, spends most of his time at the one in Cherokee Springs,” I explained.

“How do you know that?”

“He’s Royal’s best friend.”

“Damn. What a small world.”

“Precisely.”

The waiter came and took our orders and brought us a pitcher of craft beer to consume while we waited for our food. We joined in a game of cornhole with another couple, and I learned my girl had some skills, especially since we were playing doubles.

“That’s it, baby. Show ’em whose got an arm like Chris Sale.” I hyped my woman up as I compared her to the starting pitcher for the Atlanta Braves.

She giggled and got even deeper into the game. The woman beside her was definitely trying to bring her A-game now, as her husband cheered her on. She got a little too excited, and having drunk too much, she pitched face forward onto the ground.

The man raced to check on her as Kaimera kneeled beside her. I slowly strode over, bypassing the other curious customers before I heard someone say, “That’s Kobe the Furor Harden.”

I ignored them and opted to check on the woman instead. Someone sent for the manager, who came out to check on her, render first aid, and to handle an incident report. By the time they decided that she needed to go to the hospital for the bruise on her forehead and chin, as well as her bloody nose, our food had been delivered.

We washed our hands and took our seats at our table again.

“Damn, baby. I didn’t know you were so competitive,” I teased.

“What do you mean?”