Any Given Christmas (27 page)

“You told me you were completely forgettable.”

She shrugged. “And?”

“You were so wrong, honey. From the moment we met I’ve thought about nothing
but
you.”

Moisture seeped into her eyes and brightened their depths. “Then why didn’t you call when the doctor gave you the news? I was worried about you.”

“I know. And I apologize. Believe me, I’ll never let that happen again. But, Em, that news hit me hard. I’m a thirty-four-year-old man. I’m in my prime. Football is all I’ve ever known. When someone tells you you’ve just lost your livelihood, it’s like they’re saying you’re no longer man enough. I didn’t know how to face you. I didn’t know what you’d think of me. And I wouldn’t have been able to stand it if all I saw was pity in your eyes.”

“I apologize too. Because even though I didn’t really understand, one thing was clear. I’ve always thought you were about more than football, Dean.”

Relief flooded his bloodstream and he smiled. “Someone else once told me that too.” He cupped his hands around her arms and lowered his forehead to hers. “Since I was seven years old I’ve strapped on a suit of armor to get done what needed to be done. I just didn’t know how to react without the armor.”

“What makes you think you’ll be able to do without it now?”

“Because
this
is who I am. Not the guy who’s been playing a part for the media all these years. I’m not Good Time Charlie. I’m just Dean Silverthorne, the man who loves you. I need you to believe that.”

“I want to, but—”

“Just give me a chance, honey. I promise I won’t let you down ever again. I want us to build a life together. Once we have the camp going, I want to build a school for developmentally disabled kids where you can help kids in our community and the surrounding areas.”

“You’re unemployed. How can you afford that?”

“I have a job. Here. But I’ve also been offered a color commentator position with ESPN. I won’t be gone as often as I would have been as a player, so you wouldn’t have the burden of responsibility all on your shoulders.” His palms slid down her arms and he took her hands in his. “Can I show you something?”

“What?”

“Just come upstairs with me.” He tugged.

“I’m fine right here.” She tugged back.

“I’m not taking you upstairs for
that
. I really want to show you something.”

She released a sigh. “Fine.”

He took the resignation envelope from her hand. “Can we leave this here?”

“I haven’t made up my mind about that yet.”

“I know.” He set the envelope on the kitchen counter. “It will be right here if you still want to give it to me.”

He took her soft hand in his again and led her up the stairs. When they reached his bedroom doors he told her, “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“So suspicious.” He chuckled. “Close your eyes, honey. Please.”

She shook her head but complied.

He opened the door and led her inside. “Keep them closed and stay right here.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“I hope to change that.” He went to the walk-in closet and retrieved his surprise. When he came toward her, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Okay, now open your eyes.”

Her long-lashed eyelids fluttered open and then widened at the tiny fluff of fur he held up in front of her.

“A kitten!” She took the little grey fur ball into her hands and he could feel the chill melt from her heart. “Oh, he’s adorable.”

“He’s yours.”

“Are you serious?”

Dean nodded and grinned at the way she held the tiny cat up and nuzzled his nose with her own. He knew how much she missed Oscar and he was so happy to see the joy on her face. “If you look at the ribbon around his neck, I believe he has a present for you.”

“For me?”

“Yeah, honey. Only for you.”

Her brows came together as she cradled the kitten against her chest—lucky cat—and untied the blue ribbon at the top of his neck.

A substantial—but not ridiculously large—Tiffany engagement ring fell into her palm.

She looked up at him, her mouth forming a perfect O that he wanted to kiss very much. Instead he took her hand in his and lowered himself to one knee.

“I love you, Emma Hart. The only other women I’ve ever said that to are my mother and my sisters.” He kissed her fingers. “You’re the most
unforgettable
woman I’ll ever know. I don’t deserve you. I know that. Honey, you were right about the whole marriage, babies, and happily-ever-after. I want to marry you and love you and have enough kids to start our own football team. I want it all. With you. Please say you still love me.”

Her fingers tightened around his hand and he laid them against his heart. “Please say you’ll marry me.”

“Oh, Dean.” She crumpled to her knees and took his face in her hands. Tears filled her blue eyes and spilled over her long, dark lashes. “Yes, I do love you. And yes, I will marry you.” And then she gave him that smile that always gave him a kick in the heart. “
If
you promise to include a few cheerleaders on that team.”

“I’ll give you anything you want as long as you promise to love me forever.”

She leaned her forehead against his. “I’ll love you forever and then some.”

Complete and utter joy rushed through his veins like it did when he ran out onto the field to the roar of the crowd. Only this was even better.

For the last and most important game in his life, Dean stepped back into the pocket, slid the ring on Emma’s finger, and the Hail Mary spiraled into the end zone.

He leaned back on his heels and laughed like a fool.

The love of his life laughed along. “What’s so funny?”

He pulled her to her feet, planted a big kiss on her soft mouth, and thrust a victorious punch into the air.

“Touchdown!”

A
t three a.m. Dean held the kitten against his chest and tip-toed down the stairs so as not to wake Emma. He’d kept her busy in bed for the rest of the afternoon and evening. This was the first time she’d actually been able to sleep.

His bare feet squeaked across the hardwood floors and into the kitchen. From the counter he picked up Emma’s resignation and ripped it in two, flipped the lid on the trash can, and dumped the envelope inside. Then he opened the door into the garage. Side by side sat the SUV he’d bought and his mother’s piece-of-crap Buick. He walked past the new vehicle, lifted the door handle of the rusted heap, and slipped inside. The kitten curled beneath his chin. The fur tickled and he laughed.

“Such a happy sound.”

Dean looked up. Instead of her usual place in the backseat, his mother had taken the shotgun position.

“You’re allergic to cats.” Her green eyes twinkled.

“Yeah. I know.” He stroked the kitten’s soft fur and the little body rumbled with a deep purr. “My eyes and nose are itching like crazy. Don’t care, either.”

“Wow. You must really be in love.”

“That would be an understatement, Mom.”

“Not a disaster?”

He laughed. “Did I actually say that?”

“Oh yeah. Among other absurd things.” She laid her hand on his arm. “Took you long enough to realize she was the one.”

“Hard-headed.”

“Yeah. Probably why your shoulder got busted up and not your brain. Although there were moments I wondered.” She shot him a grin. “You going to be okay with never playing football again?”

His shoulders lifted. “I’m not going to say I won’t miss it. But honestly, I’ve got so much dancing around inside me right now… it just feels too good to care about a game. Besides, if I’m ever lucky enough to have a son…”

“Oh, I like the way you think.”

“Me too. I may never throw another touchdown pass, but all I really want is to be able to hug my wife and pick up my kids. You know?”

She nodded. “Best feeling in the world. Have you and Emma set a date?”

“Ummmm.” He thought of Emma sprawled out in the big bed upstairs. “We’ve been… a little busy.”

“TMI, young man.”

He laughed again and it felt great. “As soon as we figure it out I’ll let you know.” He glanced up and found his mom studying him with a smile that lifted her almost-invisible dimples. “Hey, will I still be able to see you, now that your mission impossible is accomplished?”

“Oh, you know me.” She chuckled. “I’m like Tom Cruise. I’ll come back for another sequel. Two down. One to go.” She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. “I’m happy for you, Son. And so proud. Love you.”

“Love you, Mom.” He blinked and she was gone.

He snuck back inside the house, grabbed a drink of water, then he and the kitten headed back upstairs. After he tossed another log in the fireplace, he slipped between the sheets. The mischievous gray fur ball took this as a cue to play
attack the feet
whenever Dean made the slightest move.

Emma slid over and pressed her warm naked body against his. “Where’d you go?”

He leaned over and kissed her soft, sexy mouth. “Just had a little business to take care of.”

“Mmmm.” She gave a sleepy sigh, then snuggled deeper into his arms.

Without warning, the kitten pounced between them. Dean lifted the wiggling attacker to minimize the damage. “Hey, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I name the cat?”

She tucked her hand beneath her cheek on the pillow and looked up at him. “I don’t think
Mr. Perfect
fits him.”

“I’ve got a better name.” Dean laughed and kissed her nose. “One that fits exactly how I feel.”

She gave him his favorite smile. “What’s that?”

“Lucky.”

Candis Terry was born and raised near the sunny beaches of Southern California and now makes her home on an Idaho farm. She’s experienced life in such diverse ways as working in a Hollywood recording studio to scooping up road apples left by her daughter’s rodeo queening horse to working as a graphic designer. Only one thing has remained constant: Candis’ passion for writing stories about relationships, the push and pull in the search for love, and the security one finds in their own happily ever after. Though her stories are set in small towns, Candis’ wish is to give each of her characters a great big memorable love story rich with quirky characters, tons of fun, and a happy ending. For more, please visit www.candisterry.com.

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