Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (9 page)

Her newly re-engaged parents met her at the front door of the Hyatt Regency’s ballroom. It didn’t escape Amy’s notice that her dad stood a bit taller as Amy’s mom slipped her hand through his arm. He patted her hand in response. She beamed.
Just a couple of lovebirds
, Amy thought.

Amy exchanged hugs with her parents, and Amy’s dad gave her an extra squeeze.

“There’s my sweet girl. You look great, honey.”

“Thanks, Dad. You look nice, too.”

She laid her cheek on his scratchy one. She felt an urge to cuddle up to her dad like she used to do when she was little. She needed a few more hugs right now, and maybe a little reassurance, too. Maybe she just had PMS. She’d had another long, tough day. She loved owning a business; she loved what she did. She didn’t love being alone, however. Despite Matt’s pursuit, she wasn’t sure it was going to change any time soon.

“Where’s Brian, honey?” her mom asked. “Didn’t you ask him if he wanted to come with you?”

She took a deep breath before answering. “Brian moved back to New York two days before Brandon and Emily’s wedding.”

Amy handed her wrap to the coat check attendant. She turned back to see both her parents’ mouths hanging open.

“He just left?” her mother asked. “Why?”

“His dad wanted him to take over the law firm.” She swallowed hard. “It was a great opportunity.”

Her dad slid his arm around her shoulders. “And that was it?”

“That was it. Can we go inside? It’s frosty out here.” She tried to smile. She tried to act like she didn’t care. Her parents weren’t buying it.

“He didn’t ask you to come with him?” Meg Hamilton draped the shawl she carried over her shoulders. It really was cold tonight.

“Mom, I wouldn’t have, even if he did ask.”

Amy’s mom dug in her purse for a tissue and handed it over. Amy frowned at this. She wasn’t shedding one more tear over Brian. She regretted every tear she’d shed over him before tonight. She longed for a man who made her laugh more than he made her cry, and it was time to explore that option.

“But you were in love with him, sweetheart. I know you were.”

“No, I wasn’t . . . .”

Her parents weren’t listening.

Her dad looped his arm around her for one more side hug. “There will be someone else. He’s—he just didn’t appreciate what he had, did he?”

“Thanks, Dad.” Amy tried to take a deep breath. After all, what was done was done, and frankly, she was done with Brian the moment he’d told her he was leaving for New York. Hot tears rose in her eyes, and she fought them back. Her mom and dad towed her toward Brandon, Emily, and Brandon’s parents. An evening with the married people: This ought to be a blast.

“Amy!” A glowing Emily hurried over to throw her arms around Amy. Brandon hugged both of them.

“My two best girls,” he assured them.

“Hey! What about me?” Brandon’s mom joked. The next few minutes were full of even more family hugging, kissing, and
good to see yous
. Amy pasted another smile she didn’t feel onto her face.

Her sister detached herself from her new husband and made her way to Amy’s side. “Where’s Brian?” Emily asked.

“New York. When’s dinner?”

Meg Hamilton said something into Emily’s ear. Emily shook her head and glanced over at Amy. “He’s a jerk.”

Amy agreed with her, but she remained silent. Her family regarded her as if she’d just told them she was terminal. It would have been nice if Emily’s marriage had taken the heat off Amy’s finding a nice guy and settling down, but it seemed the few weeks of peace all single women hoped for after a family wedding would not happen.

The Hamiltons and McKennas moved into a ballroom dominated by a hundred-foot-tall atrium. It was ringed by a railed catwalk. Tables for ten were decorated by towering centerpieces and custom linens. The lighting was designed to flatter women of a certain age, and an orchestra played Cole Porter and George Gershwin. Servers circulated through the crowd with appetizers and flutes of champagne. Amy wondered if she should slip the conductor a twenty and ask him to play CeeLo Green’s “Forget You.”

She saw the swish of a seafoam-green chiffon evening gown out of the corner of her eye, and Suzanne McKenna sidled up next to her.

“I’m having a dinner party next week. Do you think you could fit making a centerpiece for me into your schedule?” Suzanne asked. Brandon’s parents were now spending part of the football offseason in Seattle.

“Of course I can. Just let me know what you’d like.”

“We’ll pick it up if you’re busy.”

“No, no, no. I’m fine. I’m happy to do this for you.”

“It’s almost spring. How about something simple in springtime flowers, like tulips?”

“I can do that,” Amy assured her. “Do you have a specific color or type you’d like?”

The rest of the family was distracted by seating themselves at the table. Suzanne slipped her hand through Amy’s arm and whispered into her ear, “Everything’s going to be fine, you know.”

Amy knew she wasn’t talking about the tulips. She wished everyone would stop saying stuff to her that made her want to cry. “Maybe.”

“It will. Somewhere in the hundreds of men both my sons and my husband know, there’s the perfect man for you.” She slid into the chair next to Amy. “You’ll see.”

Amy wasn’t ready to get into the entire sob story of how her relationship had blown up, especially with someone she didn’t know that well. At the same time, Suzanne McKenna was nothing like Amy had thought she’d be when they first met.

Suzanne never had a hair out of place. Her manicure was unchipped, her clothes were perfect, but she laughed at her sons’ raunchy jokes. Well, just as long as they had no bad language. Above all, she’d probably think paying off the conductor to play something inappropriate for the old money crowd was funny.

Suzanne’s husband got up from his chair and took Emily’s hand.

“I’ve already danced with my wife, and now it’s your turn, Mrs. McKenna.” He led her onto the dance floor as Brandon held out his hand to Amy.

“Listen, squirt, it’s time for us to cut a rug.”

“No, thank you. I don’t need to— Brandon! What are you doing?” He tugged her out of her chair, and swept her out onto the dance floor.

“You have to dance with me,” he said. “You’re the only other woman besides the moms that my wife won’t shoot me for dancing with.”

“You’re so full of it.” His arms around Amy were comforting, though.

Brandon was the only person in her family she didn’t feel like the Jolly Green Giant with. She had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. After all, he was six-four in his bare feet.

His blue-green eyes currently reflected concern. “You look a little glum. What’s up?”

Amy kept her voice light. “Where’d you learn to waltz, tough guy?”

“Nice try at changing the subject. My mama made me go to dancing school when I was a kid.” He regarded Amy with a teasing smile. “You’ll need a derogatory nickname for me, you know.” He moved a bit closer to speak into her ear. “So, I’m a guy, but even I can see something is wrong. Spill it.”

Amy bowed her head again. One minute she was giving him crap, a minute later she was choking back more emotion. She was not going to burst into tears in the middle of a crowded dance floor. She worked hard to have a successful business, but deep down—and no matter how hard she’d shoved Matt away—she wished for a man to share it with.

“Heyyy,” he murmured, “it’s not that bad. Tell me what I can do.” He tipped her chin up with his fingertips. “Let me help.”

She heaved a gusty sigh. “It’s really stupid. You’re going to laugh at me.”

“I promise I won’t laugh, squirt. Just tell me.” He took his hand off her waist long enough to give her ponytail a gentle tug, which made her smile.

“I can’t find someone to go out with. It doesn’t work. I meet guys. I don’t know what to do,” she said into his ear. “I must meet the wrong ones.” She tried to take a deep breath past the lump in her throat. “Don’t you know a lot of guys from the team?”

Brandon’s halo of golden-blond curls shimmered as he shook his head. “There’s nobody from the team I’d send you out with,” he insisted.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s see. There’s several guys who are single, but they are not for you, squirt. Zach? No. He stands women up. Damian? I love him, but you’d be miserable.”

“Why?”

“You would. Jon’s a player.”

“Dylan seems nice.”

Amy had met Brandon’s younger brother, Dylan, at their wedding. He was as dark and quiet as Brandon was sunny and extroverted. It was bizarre. If Amy hadn’t seen both of their parents, she would have never believed they were brothers. Dylan was an orthopedic surgeon who lived in Los Angeles, and traveled all over the world in his spare time for Doctors Without Borders.

“Married to his work, and you’re not going out with him. He’ll break your heart.”

“Who
can
I go out with?” she groaned.

“Well, Matt Stephens is a good start.”

“Matt Stephens of
NFL Today.
Your friend, Matt,” she said. Her stomach dropped. She hoped Brandon didn’t pick up on the trembling in her voice.

“Yeah. Tall, dark haired, TV guy.” Brandon spun her out from him, and reclaimed her with a flick of his wrist. She saw the smile spread over his lips. “Now that I think of it, you’re perfect for each other. He told me the other day there’s someone on his radar screen right now, but I don’t believe it. He needs a woman who’s smart, funny, caring, and will keep him on his toes. Someone like you, squirt.” He steered her away from two people who should have never been allowed access to a crowded dance floor. “Have you met him?”

Now she was babbling. “Yes. He ordered flowers from the shop.” She felt weird about telling her brother-in-law she’d spoken to Matt almost every day since Brandon and Emily’s wedding. She was still resisting Matt’s advances, but maybe that should stay between the two of them. She was definitely not informing him that she’d seen Matt naked in the shower.

“Is that so? He says he doesn’t know you.”

Amy tried for confused outrage. “Excuse me? That’s bizarre. Why would he say that?” She could feel a tell-tale flush spreading over her cheeks. When you couldn’t dazzle them with brilliance, baffle them with BS. If she didn’t at least try to remember what she was doing at the moment, she was going to step on Brandon’s toes. Maybe that was a good idea.

“We had lunch a few days ago at The Met; I showed him one of the wedding photos, and he acted like he’d never seen you before.” Brandon’s chuckle was warm in her ear. They danced in silence for a few more minutes. “If you two should run into each other somewhere, give him a chance. He’s a good guy. Plus, I know for a fact he’s left his player days behind, and I’m not talking about football.”

“How do you know? He might just be telling people that.”

“I get the impression there’s things you’re not telling me, so I’ll tell you how this is going to go. Here’s your choices, squirt. You can either work it out yourselves, or Emily and I will set you up. Which would you prefer?”

Brandon burst into laughter at the look of horror that must have crossed her face. He twirled her.

“Does Emily know you can do this?” she finally burst out.

“Of course she does.” He dipped her, smirked when she grabbed for his arms, and straightened up again. “You know, come to think of it, it wouldn’t be all bad if I made sure you stayed single. We’ll need a babysitter, Auntie Amy.”

Amy’s mouth dropped open, and her heart skipped a beat. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“Well, no. Not yet. It’s not for lack of trying.” Brandon spun Amy again as he spoke. “Practice makes perfect, you know.”

“Eww! Too much information,” Amy protested and batted at his shirt front. Her brother-in-law had a huge, booming laugh, and other people on the dance floor turned to look at them.

Brandon offered his arm as the song ended.

“Shall we? I have to find my wife. I’m sure she misses me.” He patted her hand with his much bigger, warmer one. “Let’s go see if we can get you married off before football season starts again.”

She let out a groan.

Chapter Eight

A
MY WAS DUSTING
the front counter at the shop the next day. Last night’s pity party faded in the cold light of morning, and shortly after she had taken five new phone orders the bells on the front door rang. A tall, slender, dark-haired teenage girl walked in, and approached the counter.

“Hi. Are you Amy?”

“Yes, I am. How can I help you?”

The young woman stuck out her hand, and Amy shook it.

“I’m Samantha Stephens,” she said. “Thank you for the flowers you took to my dad when he was sick. He said that you stayed to take care of him, too.” Her eyes were perfect replicas of her dad’s. She rolled her gold-flecked, navy blues in exasperation. “I can’t believe he didn’t call any of us. He could have
died
. We wouldn’t have even
known
.”

“He would have been okay,” Amy rushed to reassure her. “He’s just stubborn.”

“My mom says that all the time.” She brushed long bangs out of her eyes. Even if Samantha hadn’t introduced herself, she might as well have been wearing a sign. Besides the long legs, similar facial features, and Matt’s dark hair, Samantha, it seemed, was a bit of a rebel. She’d lined her eyes with smudged black pencil, which clashed with the demure school uniform she wore. She’d also applied a thick layer of pink lip gloss. There were cobalt-blue streaks in her long, black-as-ink curls, which matched the uniform. She carried a vintage Louis Vuitton satchel. She wore leather booties on her feet, which Amy was sure were non-regulation as well.

“My dad’s pretty . . . Well, he can be stubborn, too.”

Samantha put both hands on her hips, fixed Amy with a look, and raised one eyebrow. “So. We’re not here to talk about that. You’re dating Matt, aren’t you?”

Once Amy managed to recover from the shock of being called out by a child in a school uniform, she choked out a response. “You call your dad by his first name?”

“Obviously.” When this failed to get a rise, Samantha drummed her fingers on the counter a little. “You didn’t answer my question.”