Intercepting Daisy (9 page)

“Would you like me to fill a plate for you?” one of the servers asked Daisy.

“No, thanks. I can do it,” she said. Catherine was already sitting in the outside seating area with a strawberry-blonde-haired woman dressed in a Brandon McKenna jersey, jeans, huge diamond stud earrings, and a killer pair of Louboutin shoes. Catherine had evidently recognized her from a flight. “Thanks for asking.”

“Let me know if there's anything I can get for you,” the server said. She moved away to ask a group of women (who were dressed in head-to-toe Sharks wear) if they'd like some food. Daisy had thought a pair of jeans and a plain blue hoodie would be an acceptable thing to wear to a Sharks game. She was wrong.

A medium-height, attractive blonde woman in a Matt Stephens jersey, a high ponytail, jeans, and an enormous diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand dashed into the suite. Cries of “Amy!” rang out as about half the women in the room rushed at once to hug her.

Daisy turned to the heavily pregnant woman standing next to her. “Do you know her?”

“Oh, hell yeah. My husband works for her husband.” The woman smiled. “Amy's husband owns the team.”

Amy Stephens hugged her way through the crowd. She stopped in front of Daisy and reached out to hug her too. “You must be Daisy. Matt said you'd be here today. He's also told me all about you, especially the fact our son loves you. I'm so glad you're here.”

“Jonathan's adorable,” Daisy said. “We had so much fun the last time he was on the team flight.”

“I'm a little biased, but I'd have to agree. He's my lovebug,” Amy said.

“Matt talks about you and your kids all the time.”

“It's all lies,” Amy joked. “Do you like margaritas?” At Daisy's nod, she glanced over to catch the bartender's eye. “Two margaritas, please. No salt.” She leaned over to talk into Daisy's ear. “You'll need a drink before this starts. Trust me.”

“I'm not sure what to expect. I don't watch a lot of football.”

“I heard that too.”

Amy hugged the woman standing next to Daisy and said, “How are you doing, Delisa? It's good to see you.”

“The baby's kicking a lot, but I'll be fine.” She let out a sigh. “One more month to go. He's going to be a linebacker like his dad.”

Amy caught the bartender's eye once more and said, “Would you make a virgin margarita for Delisa, please?” The guy gave her a nod.

Amy grabbed their drinks, palmed some cash to the bartender for a tip, and reached out to take Delisa's arm. “Come on, ladies. Let's go sit with Emily. This could be quite an afternoon.”

“Damn right. DeAndre was pacing the floor at our house yesterday,” Delisa said. “He needs to run off some energy.”

Catherine glanced up when Amy, Daisy, and Delisa settled in the row of seats behind them. “Remember my telling you about the adorable twins on my flight a month or so ago? Emily's their mom and Amy's sister.”

“Hopefully, everyone's recovered,” Emily said as she extended her hand to shake Daisy's. “I had things for the kids to do, but by about hour five, they were a little bored. Our boys don't like to sit still for long. They're just like their father.”

“They were so cute. No problem at all,” Catherine said. “I have to tell you I fell a little bit in love with them.”

“You are really nice. I'm sure the passengers are still talking about the twins trying to help you all do your job by passing out the snacks. Corralling them again was quite a project.”

“It's hard to resist a couple of angelic-looking little blond boys telling you that if you don't eat your dinner, you won't get dessert,” Catherine said.

“They only look like angels,” Emily said. “Like I said, they're just like Brandon. And let me tell you what my husband was doing while our boys were terrorizing the other passengers—”

“He was taking a nap with baby Charlotte, wasn't he?” Amy said.

“Of course he was. She has him wrapped around her little finger. Wait until she's older and learns the words Nordstrom and Tiffany. She's going to put a dent in Daddy's bank accounts.” Emily's voice dropped. “She's just like me.”

“Matt does that too. Jonathan can be racing through the house at top speed making a ton of noise, and I'll find Matt and our daughter, Jessica, asleep on the couch, asleep in the chair, whatever,” Amy said. “Then he wakes up and calls out, ‘Hey, Jon. Knock it off,' and our son stops whatever he's doing to crawl into Daddy's lap too.”

“Daddy time,” Emily sighed. “It's like a miracle.”

D
AISY STILL FELT
a bit weak from her adventures with the flu, but she got to her feet when Grant and his teammates ran out onto the field. She thought Grant glanced up to the suite area, but she couldn't be sure. Just in case, she waved at him.

The game was a blur. As she'd told Grant, she didn't know a lot about football. Some of the women in the suite appeared to be watching intently. Others were milling around. It seemed most of them wanted to talk with Amy, and Amy introduced Daisy.

“Daisy is Grant Parker's date.”

A tall blonde with too much makeup on couldn't hide her surprise. “I didn't know he was dating anyone.”

A short brunette wearing the biggest set of diamond stud earrings Daisy had ever seen gave her a pasted-on smile. “How nice. Great to meet you.” She waited until she thought Daisy was talking with someone else, caught the blonde's eye, and rolled hers.

Either Grant was not a favorite, or there was some sort of problem. Daisy waited until the crowds drifted away to load up on more food and drink at halftime. Maybe she could ask Amy what was wrong. She sat down in the chair next to her again.

“Amy, may I ask you a question?”

“Of course you can. Want me to explain some of what Grant's been doing on the field?” She patted Daisy on the back. “Stick with me. I'll have you calling plays and reading defenses in no time flat.”

Daisy knew Amy was teasing her, but her expression was warm.

“I'd love to take you up on that,” Daisy said.

“I'll tell you a secret,” Amy said. She leaned closer. “You don't have to know everything to enjoy the game. But I don't think this has anything to do with what's on the field. Am I right?”

“I don't mean to sound like I'm still in elementary school, but what the hell is up with some of these women?” Daisy said in a low voice.

“Grant's dated a lot. He's probably had drinks or dinner with some of those women before. He didn't choose them. Now they're with someone else, and they're jealous.”

“Should I be worried?”

“No. You are the first woman he's given suite tickets to since he signed with Seattle. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Ever?”

“Ever,” Amy said. “Ignore them. And let's have fun.”

The idea that she might be special to him warred with the notion that Grant may have felt sorry for her because she'd gotten so sick after their first date. She'd drive herself nuts if she kept puzzling over it. Maybe she should sip her drink, eat some wings, and get over herself.

T
HE
S
HARKS
'
COACH
outdid himself with his post-game motivational speech. Grant was used to standing in a locker room with a bunch of sweaty, half-dressed guys while a coach ran through a litany of sports clichés, but today was one for the ages. Coach Clark talked about how the season had gone so far. It had been two steps forward, one step back. The team would celebrate a great win. One week later, they'd lose due to stupid (and preventable) errors.

“Do you want to go home after the last game this season and know you didn't give it your best? Do you want to wake up in the middle of the night on December twenty-ninth and realize you wasted your season because you weren't all in? Do you give a damn about anything besides your next contract and endorsement money?” The coach paused to take a deep breath. “If you're in, I'd like to see it. And it'll show on the scoreboard.” His eyes moved slowly around the circle of men surrounding him. “Are you in? I want to know. If you're not, if you're not willing to give the rest of the season everything you have and a little more, I don't want you here. If you don't give a shit, you can leave now.” He nodded at the locker room door.

A few seconds of silence followed his comments. Grant and Tom glanced at each other. Tom's lips curled into a smile. He gave Grant a barely there nod.
Step up, asshole
, Tom's eyes said.

Grant stepped toward his coach. “I'm in,” he said. He stretched out one hand to his teammates. His coach gave him the nod. He'd shown the rest of the team he was willing to lead them with one small gesture.

“I'm in too,” Zach Anderson said.

“I'm in, goddamn it,” Derrick Collins said as he grabbed onto his teammates' hands.

“I'm in,” Drew McCoy said.

Seth Taylor almost knocked Drew over as he stretched a hand out and tried to yank his underwear on at the same time. “I'm in. For life.”

Kyle Carlson strolled in from the showers in nothing but a towel. “I'm in too.”

Grant glanced around at his teammates pushing and shoving to get to the front of the circle, grabbing their teammates' hands and calling out that they were in. After a lifetime of feeling like he stood on the sidelines watching everyone else, he'd stepped into the game. Maybe it was corny, but he didn't feel quite so alone anymore. They had a common purpose. And he was one of them.

He felt guys behind him put one hand on his shoulder. They wanted to be included in what was happening too. Joining in was as easy as reaching out. Maybe he could try reaching out in other areas of his life, as well.

The fifty-three players for the Seattle Sharks surrounded their coach as he shouted, “You're in, huh? You'd better be. We're going to win it all. And the work starts now.”

The noise was deafening as fifty-four men clapped, shouted, stomped their feet, and whistled their approval.

G
RANT FINALLY MANAGED
to pry himself out of the Sharks' locker room almost an hour later. He'd sent Daisy a text telling her he was a bit delayed.
A bit
, hell. Every reporter who hadn't managed to get his or her questions answered on the field after the game had a burning need to talk with him. They all asked the same three or four questions.

His parents were waiting in the hallway outside of the locker room door. It was hard not to notice they stood alone while the families and friends of his teammates surrounded each player who emerged from the locker room with hugs, kisses, and praise. It reminded him of how often he'd stood apart from his teammates in the past. He didn't want to stand alone anymore, with the team or with his parents.

He hadn't seen his parents for almost six months. He'd had organized team activities and training camp and hadn't been able to drop it all and fly to Texas for a week. When he'd asked them if they'd like to visit during training camp and maybe meet some of his teammates' parents and families, they'd said they couldn't leave their congregation for that long.

His dad had all kinds of charisma when he was standing in his pulpit with a Bible in one hand, but he wasn't much for socializing or small talk with those outside of his congregation. His mom had never cared for organized sports. Again, he wished he knew the magic words that would bridge what seemed to be an ever-increasing gulf between him and his parents.

“Mom,” he said as he hurried toward her. She reached out to hug him. Over the past couple of years, he'd started noticing how small she felt when he hugged her. She looked the same as always, but she felt different somehow. “I'm so glad you came.”

“I'm glad we came too, honey,” she said. “You did such a good job today.”

“I did my best. Did you have fun?”

“It was very nice. Thank you for the tickets. Someone from the team walked us to our seats and asked if we'd like something to eat or drink. Your dad got some peanuts,” she said. “They came back at halftime and asked if we'd like to sit in the suite. We didn't want to bother the other people.”

“Mom, you could never be a bother,” he said. “Maybe next time you'd like to sit up there? It's nice, and there's free food.”

“I'll think about it,” his mother said. She kissed his cheek. “We're so proud of you.”

He kissed his mother on the cheek, shook hands with his dad, and said, “Thanks for being here today.”

His father clasped his shoulder. “Of course we'd be here. You had quite a game.”

“It went well,” he said. “The other guys really stepped up.” They wanted the win as much as he did. He wanted to make sure the coaches wouldn't regret their decision to start him. It was clichéd but true.

He pulled in a breath. “Would you like to go out for dinner before you have to go back? My date is upstairs in the suite, but I could get her and meet you here.”

His mother shook her head. His father jumped in.

“It's really nice of you to ask, son, but we're going back home with the guy from my congregation. He offered us a ride. We don't want to be late.” His dad patted him on the shoulder again. “Maybe after the season.”

“Yes, honey. You're done for the year right after Christmas; maybe you could come and see us for a few days.”

He wanted to spend time with Daisy, but he also wanted to talk with his parents some more. It was the biggest day of his life so far. He tried to arrange his face into a neutral expression as he scrambled to think of something else to say. He didn't think it would mean so much that his parents had come to his first game as an NFL starter, but it did. He'd hoped they'd accept his dinner invitation, and he was surprised how hurt he felt.

He'd tried to explain before that the playoffs started the week after the final regular season game was over and that he hoped to be in them. Most NFL players didn't make off-season plans until they knew their teams had been mathematically eliminated from any chance at the playoffs, and some did nothing until the Super Bowl was over but rest and recover. He couldn't leave his team in the lurch, and his parents didn't seem like they wanted to make the extra effort to see him again.

It was weird. He always thought most parents lived to see their kids, even the grown ones. He knew his mother had suffered multiple miscarriages before he was born. Maybe she tried to remain detached in case he didn't make it, either. He was here, though. He was healthy, in his late twenties, someone they could be proud of.

“Do you need me to take you to the airport or anything?” Grant said.

“Oh, no, son. We're meeting Wade outside in ten minutes. He's got a driver. We'll be there in plenty of time,” his father assured him. He stuck out his hand again. “You played a great game. We'll see you soon.”

Grant walked them down the long corridor to the locker room exit, kissed his mother good-bye again, and watched them drive away with their friend. Even worse than not wanting to have dinner with him was that they showed no curiosity about Daisy.

Out of all the women he'd dated before, Daisy was the only one he wanted to introduce them to. Maybe he'd fly them up when the Sharks played on Monday night later in the season, if Daisy wasn't out of town. Aside from the whole doesn't-go-to-church thing, at the very least, his mom would really like her. She was down-to-earth, smart, funny, and thoughtful. And his parents would be stunned he was with someone like her. He hoped they would think he'd made a good choice.

He reached out to grab the handle of the locker room door and hurried inside. He couldn't wait to see her again.

H
E SAW
D
AISY
right away when he walked into the suite ten minutes later, but he shook hands with several former Sharks players first who wanted to make small talk. She glanced at him, caught his eye, and smiled. Several of the players' wives had settled in for another drink while waiting for their guys to get to the team suite. The tall redhead he didn't recognize sitting at their table must have been Daisy's roommate, Catherine.

It looked like he might be taking two women out for dinner tonight instead of just one. Things could be worse, but he wanted to be alone with Daisy.

Grant moved away from the guys and approached Daisy's table. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long,” he said.

“Not at all,” she assured him. “I'm having a great time, and I've really enjoyed meeting everyone here.”

“We don't want her to leave,” Amy Stephens said. “How about a hot dog for dinner from the concession stand?”

“We could hang out here for a while, ladies. Brandon's plane is probably landing any minute now at Boeing Field,” Emily said. “Does anyone else want another drink?”

“Is Tom on his way?” Megan Reed asked him.

“He was right behind me,” Grant said.

Daisy reached back to touch his forearm while nodding at the tall redhead. “Grant, this is my roommate, Catherine.”

He shook hands with Catherine. “Great to meet you,” he said. “Would you like to join us for dinner? I have a reservation at Skillet Diner in half an hour. It's not formal, but the food's delicious.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I have a date tonight. Maybe another time?” Catherine asked. “I drove Daisy here. Will you make sure she gets home?”

“Of course,” Grant said. Daisy looked like she was stifling laughter.

Catherine grabbed her handbag and stood up from the table. “Ladies, I need to go change. Thank you for such a great afternoon. If I had known football was this fun, I would have started watching it a long time ago.”

“I'll make sure you get tickets the next time we play in Seattle,” Grant assured her.

A few minutes later, the suite was invaded by a group of men looking for their wives and girlfriends, and Daisy and Grant walked Catherine to her car. Catherine reached out to hug both of them before she slid behind the wheel of a metallic blue RAV4. They watched her taillights vanish around the corner.

Grant gestured toward a late-model silver Subaru Outback. “That's mine.”

Daisy approached his car, and he hurried ahead to open the door for her. She glanced up at him. He saw the slow smile move over her mouth. Her eyes met his, and his heart skipped a couple of beats.

“I haven't had a guy open the door for me since I was in college,” she said.

“Maybe you've been hanging around with the wrong guys.”

He offered her his hand as she slid into the passenger seat. Her fingers curled around his, and he felt the jolt of happiness from the top of his head to his toes. He settled into the driver's seat, put on his seat belt, and glanced at her. “Ready?”

“Yes, I am.”

The post-game traffic had thinned out a bit by the time they arrived in Ballard. The formerly quiet (and primarily Scandinavian) community had transformed into a hipster's haven in the past ten years. Thriving bars, restaurants, and live-music venues drew a younger and more active generation to the neighborhood. The opportunity to live in an area where you could walk to surrounding businesses and activities (and an easy commute to downtown Seattle via mass transit) kept them there. Grant preferred Ballard to the more urban Belltown neighborhood or Pioneer Square. He hoped Daisy would enjoy it too.

“Have you been to Skillet's food truck before?” Daisy said.

“I've been there a few times in the off-season,” he said hedgingly. The food truck parked in a lot about a block from his condo on Wednesday afternoons. He'd raced downstairs more than a few times to beat the line of software-company employees looking for Skillet's famous Bacon Jam on a burger. One of the benefits of exercising for a living was the fact he could eat like he had in college and still not gain weight. “Do you go there?”

“I've visited a couple of times,” she said. “I talked Catherine into going to Where Ya At Matt's food truck about a month ago. She didn't want to leave.” Where Ya At Matt was another Seattle phenomenon—a food truck that served the best of New Orleans Creole cuisine.

“Isn't she British? I thought they hated everything spicy.” He softened his comments with a grin.

“Oh, no. She loves Indian curry; she asks for more stars when we go out for Thai food. She decided she loves gumbo. I think the guy who owns the food truck might be kind of in love with her now too.”

“How long have you known Catherine?”

“A couple of years. We fly for the same airline. She normally works for international flights, but we were in the crew room at the airport one day at the same time and started talking. She needed a roommate, and I had an extra bedroom,” Daisy said. “When she's not flying, she's been seeing a guy who lives in Kirkland off and on for the past several months.” Daisy turned a little in the passenger seat to face him. “I think he's going to propose. She'll get married and move out, and nobody will be tormenting me with beans at every meal and blood sausage anymore. She's also into this stuff called Marmite.”

“What's Marmite?”

“Yeasty vegetable paste stuff.” He could see Daisy shudder despite the darkness, and he had to laugh. “She smears it on toast.”

“I guess you don't like it.”

“It's an acquired taste.”

“You'll miss her, though.”

“Like an appendage,” Daisy said. “She's the sister I never had. I know we'll still see each other, but it won't be the same.”

“My college roommate got married last year. I've known Cam since his freshman year. Now he has a wife and a baby.”

“Shocking, isn't it?” Daisy said. She watched the side of Grant's mouth turn up into a smile.

“I know. This adulting stuff is hard.” Daisy was so absorbed in staring at him that she hadn't realized they'd arrived in Ballard. Grant pulled into a small parking garage, headed for a marked stall, and turned in. “The restaurant is about half a block away,” he said. “Hopefully, we'll get there before the rain starts.”

She reached for the handle on the passenger-side door.

“I've got that,” he said and hurried around the back of his car to open the door for her. She didn't want him to treat her like she was going to break. She could open her own doors. She could pay for her own dinner, buy her own house, and be her own person. It was nice that he made such an extra effort, though.

He shoved some folding money in the
pay here
parking box and said, “I tried to figure out something more exciting for our date, but the zip line is closed tonight.”

“No drag racing?”

He reached out for her hand. It felt so natural to slide her hand inside of his bigger, warmer one. “I saw this thing I still can't believe at the local demolition derby a few years back: jet car barbecue.”

Raindrops bounced off of her nose. The few people still on the sidewalk were pulling up the hoods on their jackets or trying to walk beneath the awnings on the buildings. She could see the lit-up restaurant sign ahead.

“What's a jet car barbecue?” He'd gone to a demolition derby? She didn't know there was such a thing in Seattle.

“You know those tricked-out race cars that shoot fire out of the back?”

She was going to have to get out more. “Uh, no,” she said.

“They chain up some old, stripped car to the back and hit the gas until it's a smoking wreck.”

“What happens then?”

“Everyone watches more of the demolition derby.”

“I thought you were going to tell me that they bust out the marshmallows, chocolate bars, and graham crackers.”

“Oh, hell no. It's so hot you can feel it from half a mile away. There's plenty of beer, though.”

She couldn't tell if he was teasing her or he'd really gone to such a thing. Then again, it didn't matter. He pulled open the door to the restaurant and gestured for her to precede him inside.