Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (16 page)

He poured a bit into her cup, poured a little into his own cup, and abruptly poured the rest of the bottle out of the car window onto the pavement below them. In other words, he was driving, and the subject under discussion was sufficiently upsetting to him he’d drink the rest of the bottle if it was still available.

Amy appreciated the fact his opening up to her meant he trusted her. She got the impression it didn’t happen a lot. Listening to the story of someone else’s life cracking apart, though, wasn’t light or fun at all. She realized she wouldn’t be able to hide her own less-than-perfect life if she kept dating him, either.

“Laura didn’t know what to say, so she said a lot of ‘it’ll be fine’ crap. It wasn’t going to be fine. I tried to explain this. She’d cry or something, and I’d—I couldn’t do it.” He passed one hand over his face. “Samantha was a toddler. On top of everything else, we were learning to be parents. She did a much better job than I did. I . . .” He shook his head. “After my ignoring her or being an asshole for months, after she spent so much time alone with a baby, she just couldn’t take it anymore. The day after I officially retired, I was in Mexico, drunk off my ass. I didn’t come home for almost a month. I was drowning myself in tequila, and she had an affair.”

“What? Why?” Amy shifted in her seat. “Did she even know where you were?”

“Yeah. I called home to say where I was, but I realize there’s no excuse for my behavior at the time. It took me awhile to figure this one out, but women don’t like it when you ignore them. We were divorced soon after.” He let out a sardonic snort. “It didn’t help that she was involved with someone affiliated with the team, but she got my attention. We couldn’t talk without fighting. I’d yell, and she’d cry. We spent a lot of money arranging visitation and basic stuff through our attorneys, too.” He took a sip of champagne. “She’s the mother of my child, I will always care about her, but we’re two different people. Laura is the sweetest woman on the planet, but she could not stand up to me. I can’t be with anyone who doesn’t.” He shifted in his seat again. “So, I came home and cleaned myself up. I went back to school, got a master’s, and went to work. I got to know my daughter. I tried not to be such a shit.”

She wanted to be reassuring, but she wasn’t sure what to say to behavior that any woman would find objectionable. She’d read several instances of ex-NFL players having significant personal and financial problems when they retired, though. Maybe she should cut him a little slack. She had never disappeared to Mexico for a month and left a wife and daughter alone, but she wasn’t perfect, either.

Matt leaned back against the driver’s seat.

“I learned my lesson, though. I was an embarrassment to my mom, to my daughter, and to myself. It took me a long time, but I apologized to Laura. I’m so damn grateful Samantha was too young to understand what was going on.”

Amy reached out and squeezed his hand. To her surprise, Matt squeezed back.

“I told her about it last year. Plus, Laura will talk to her about what happened on her end when Sam’s old enough.”

“What made you and Laura finally try to get along with each other?”

“Samantha. She asked me why I hated her mommy.” He’d shown little emotion while unpacking what had to be some pretty embarrassing skeletons in his closet. To her shock, Amy saw tears in his eyes. He blew out a breath.

They sat silently for a few moments. Matt’s brows knit as he watched what looked like a bunny hopping through tall grass.

“She’s amazing, Matt. She’s funny and smart and mature.”

His voice was gruff. “She’s her mother.”

“No, she’s you, too. The stuff that comes out of her mouth—it’s you.”

“That’s what you think.”

“She adores you.”

“I can’t believe she’s still calling me ‘Matt,’” he muttered. “There are some days I’d give my left nut to hear ‘Daddy’ or ‘Papa.’” A pensive smile turned up the corners of his lips. “She knows it bugs me. Maybe she’s more like me than I originally thought.”

“So, what do you think you learned from all this?”

Matt let out a snort. “Is this an ABC Afterschool Special?” His expression grew thoughtful again. “I learned that there are other things I love besides a football field and Super Bowl rings. I wanted to be someone my family was proud of, and I worked till I got there. I realized I needed to find a woman who knew me better than I knew myself.”

“That’s interesting.” Amy sipped a little of her champagne. “Do you believe that any of us can know someone else better than we know ourselves?”

“You and your sister know each other that way.”

Amy wasn’t going to tell him her deep, dark secret. She was tired of living in Emily’s shadow. Amy loved her sister. She was her best friend. It was time for Amy to do something for herself and succeed on her own terms.

Her business didn’t depend on being Emily Hamilton McKenna’s younger sister or Brandon McKenna’s sister-in-law. It helped that Brandon sent Amy business, but it wasn’t the only reason her doors remained open.

She squirmed a little.

“We do. Mostly.” Amy finished off the drops of champagne at the bottom of her cup. “Do you regret not having a brother or a sister?”

“Yeah. I know my mom wanted another child. Plus, I’d have someone else to spend time with.” The smile reappeared. “Samantha wants a brother or a sister. She’s made it clear that I’m not producing fast enough.”

“She talked to me about it, too.”

“What did she say?”

“She wants you to get married again and have a baby. She thinks it’s time. She says her mom works all the time and will never meet anyone, so it’s your problem.”

He opened the car door and moved a short distance away to drop the empty champagne bottle into a nearby garbage can.

“She likes you,” he called out to Amy.

She got out of the car to stretch her legs and followed him. The stars looked like white diamonds tossed over a purplish-blue night sky. The moonlight lit silver streaks in Matt’s hair.

“I like her.”

He looped his arm around Amy’s shoulders and pulled her close. “So, how’s this week for you?” His voice dropped. “I think I can fit you in.”

“Hey. Knock it off, Stephens.”

“I know you want a baby,” he cajoled.

“Forget it.”

“Come on. Think how cute you’ll be with a baby bump.”

“You’re ill,” she said, but she was laughing.

Amy gave him a playful push and walked away from him. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind, too, but he exhausted her when they weren’t officially a couple. Even though she gave him a ration of crap over sperm donors, Amy wasn’t having a baby without being married. Call her old-fashioned, but she wanted her children to live with their father. He caught up to her in a couple of long strides.

“Hey, Fifi. Don’t you want to keep me off the streets? Have my baby.”

She whirled on him. “We’re not even officially a couple. You and me . . . Well, we’re socializing. That’s it.”

“Who made that decision?” His face was a mask of injured innocence. “Not me. I’ve been asking you out for a month now. You keep telling me no. Why is that, anyway? I shower. I dress reasonably well. I can be taken out in public. Plus, I’m fairly sure we’ll get along nicely in the bedroom, if that whole thing at your front door the other night was any indicator.”

“I can’t even believe you brought that up—”

“Even though you claim you’re not, you’re looking for a man. Why not me?”

“You don’t want me.”

“Yes, Amy, I do.” He slid his arm around her shoulders. “Give me a try. Let’s date each other some more and see what happens.”

“I won’t buckle under your pressure, Matt,” but she smiled as she said it.

“Of course you won’t,” he murmured into her ear. “Bring it on.”

“I want someone who respects me enough to realize that I mean what I say.” Amy stopped walking and poked her finger into the middle of his chest.

“Of course I respect you and what you have to say. That doesn’t mean that I don’t reserve the right to talk you out of it.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about!” she fumed.

He caught her around the waist again. He took her cheek in his palm. His voice was as calm and quiet as the night surrounding them.

“I was just teasing you. Someday, you’re going to know when I’m teasing, huh?”

“I don’t like it,” she informed him.

“Sometimes we all need to laugh at ourselves.” He rested his chin on the top of her head, sniffing her hair. He kissed her temple. “Come on, sweetheart.”

The old-fashioned endearment melted her heart. She wasn’t going to consider how many other women he’d probably called “sweetheart” before. Right now, it was just for her.

“Stop trying to distract me with kisses and . . . Just stop.”

“Do you really want me to?” His fingertips rubbed the back of Amy’s neck. “I could dream up a few other things you might enjoy.”

“You—you make me mad, then you kiss me, then I can’t remember why I was mad. Why? There must be another woman you can torment.”

“I want the one in my arms right now.”

“What if I don’t want
you
?”

“Oh, you do, Fifi.”

His mouth touched hers, and she forgot to pull away from him. Even more, she didn’t want to. She wrapped her arms around his neck. His tongue slid into her mouth. His hands skimmed down her back, landing on the twin globes of her butt. He pulled her into him.

“I know you want me,” he whispered.

She rested her forehead on his shoulder and listened to the night surrounding them. A breeze moved through the trees. Frogs greeted each other. They heard the indistinct hum of traffic in the distance. She breathed in cool air and the faint scent of Matt’s shaving cream.

Matt’s cell phone went off, playing ten seconds or so of Paul Simon’s
Father and Daughter.

“It’s my little princess, calling to say goodnight,” he said.

“Answer it,” she told him.

He pulled it out of his pocket and hit the speaker function. “Are you having fun, Sam?”

A tear-clogged voice responded. “Hi, Mr. Stephens, it’s Morgan. We need your help.”

Chapter Thirteen

M
ATT FELT AN
immediate and almost overpowering surge of fight-or-flight adrenaline as he listened to his daughter’s best friend attempt to control her tears.
If Samantha was hurt or sick, she would have called Laura first. They would have called from the hospital,
he told himself.
Stay calm.

“Morgan, what’s wrong?”

“Natalie’s parents went out to dinner while we were watching a movie. Her older brother’s here. He brought a bunch of his friends with him, too. They’re drinking and they’re doing dumb stuff.” He heard her sniffle. “We want to go home.”

Multiple underage girls alone in a house with high school boys, alcohol, and no adult supervision—He dragged breath into his lungs. If the adrenaline surge wasn’t enough, he was scared and disgusted with himself for not laying down the law; He didn’t want Samantha spending time with Natalie, let alone staying overnight at her house.

He stepped away from Amy.

“Where’s Samantha?”

“She’s in here, too.”

He heard his daughter’s voice in the background. “I—I was afraid you’d be mad at us. We didn’t know they were going to be here—”

He interrupted her. “Where are you now?”

“We’re in the parents’ bathroom.”

“Is Brittany with you, too?”

“Yes. She doesn’t feel good right now.”

Amy was listening with a concerned look on her face, but he could only concentrate on Samantha right now. “Lock the bathroom door. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He heard his daughter’s voice. “I’m sorry. I know you said you were going on a date tonight. Mom isn’t answering her phone right now, and we didn’t know what to do.”

“Don’t be sorry. You did the right thing to call me. Stay in the bathroom. Lock the door.”

He hung up his phone, let out a “God DAMN it,” and turned to face Amy again. To his surprise, she moved closer and took his hand.

“I’m guessing we’re going to go get Samantha.”

“And two of her friends.” He shoved his phone into his pocket, and passed his hand over his face. “I guess this is the end of our date. Do you want me to drop you off at your place first?”

“Hell, no. We need to go get the girls.” Amy tugged him toward his Mercedes.

M
ATT MANAGED TO
keep it together while he made phone calls to both Brittany and Morgan’s parents through the in-dash voice command cell phone in his car. He also managed to drive the speed limit as they took the exit to Medina, one of the wealthier and most exclusive communities on Seattle’s Eastside. Matt knew Medina’s police force frowned on underage drinking. Hell, they frowned on anything that would cause a disturbance or danger to homeowners who most likely boasted a high eight- or nine-figure balance in their checking account at all times.

Natalie’s parents didn’t have the right to endanger his daughter or her friends by their inattention. He’d be taking this up with them in person at another time. Right now he was holding onto his temper with fists of iron. He realized his anger was a byproduct of being frightened as hell. Men weren’t supposed to be scared. They were supposed to handle this kind of fear with an overpowering show of strength and fury.

Those guys probably didn’t have a fourteen-year-old daughter that they would do anything to protect.

Amy had been quiet through most of the ride. She turned in the seat to face him.

“Would you like me to go to the door with you?” she said.

He was flooded with completely different emotions in seconds: disbelief, surprise, gratitude. The previously skittish Fifi wanted to get involved. He’d be giving this additional thought shortly after he made sure his daughter was safe and sound, but he knew his initial impression of her was right.

She was worth whatever he had to do to keep seeing her.

He turned into Natalie’s parents’ driveway and hit the brakes. He couldn’t believe there weren’t cop cars here already; the music was turned up so loud he was sure the neighbors in the next block were singing along with Macklemore. Then again, cars clogged the driveway, double-parked all the way to the street. Maybe the cops couldn’t find a place to park.