Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (11 page)

It had been an awful day before Matt showed up. Even his daughter was pleading his case these days. He persisted long after any other guy would have given up and walked away, and he brought her something that must have been next to impossible to get.

Maybe she needed to give him a chance. Just once.

“It’s only lunchtime,” she said. She looked up into his face, and watched the smile slowly spread over his mouth.

“It’s eight o’clock in London,” he suggested helpfully.

“We’re not in London, are we?”

“We could be.”

“They—they won’t let me bring my flowers on the plane.”

“I would get you some more.” He took her face in both hands. “Tonight. I’ll be here to pick you up at six.”

“I have to change.”

“No. Just be here.” His thumb slowly stroked her cheek, his mouth moved toward hers, and she closed her eyes. He kissed the corner of Amy’s lips. His stubble tickled. She let out a laugh.

“What if I want a real kiss?” she whispered.

“Later,” he said.

T
HE REST OF
the day was so busy that Amy didn’t think much about her date with Matt. Actually, that wasn’t true. She caught herself staring off into space multiple times for no apparent reason, and she had her nose in the sweet pea bouquet when she wasn’t staring off into space. Nice flowers. Even better kiss, despite the fact his aim was bad.

Good thing she’d finished most of the orders for the day before Matt happened in.

At four o’clock, Emily called.

“Hey, Ame. Brandon and I are leaving the doctor’s office. Can we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

It was somewhat odd that Brandon was at a doctor’s appointment Emily told Amy was “routine,” but Amy would get it out of Emily later.

“Right now?”

“Well, yeah, pretty soon. How about Coastal Kitchen? I think we can find something that Brandon might like to eat there.” Amy could hear Brandon’s laughter over the phone. Brandon would eat almost anything that didn’t run away from him, so this was a bit of a joke.

“I wish I could. I can’t make it.”

“The shop’s busy?”

“Yeah, but that’s not it.” Amy cleared her throat. “I have a date tonight.”

“A date?” Emily cried out. “That’s wonderful.” She must have hit the speaker on her cell phone; Amy heard Brandon’s voice.

“Who’s the lucky guy, squirt?” he said.

“Oh, some guy.” If the date went well, she might mention it. If it didn’t, she’d prefer licking her wounds in private.

“She’s not going to tell us, is she?” Brandon asked his wife.

“Baby, we shouldn’t interfere,” Amy’s sister cautioned.

“Hey, your dad and I will show up over there to check the guy out. Don’t think we won’t do it,” Brandon warned.

“Hush,” Emily told him. “So, you’ll tell me about it later, right?” she said to Amy.

“Sure.”
Not on your life
.

“No kissing on the first date,” Brandon insisted, and the word “date” sounded a little muffled. Emily must have put her hand over his mouth.

“I don’t know what we’ll do if I have girls,” she fretted. “Our poor daughters will have no social life at all.”

“Everything will be fine.” Brandon’s voice was firm. “They’re not dating until they’re thirty-five.”

“I was barely thirty-six when
we
started dating, Buster,” Emily told him.

“That’s right, and you were much too young to date me, weren’t you? Listen, Amy, we’ll get together with you later this week.” Brandon said into the mouthpiece of the phone.

“Let’s do that. Give Em a hug from me.”

“I will. You be good.”

Amy hung up the phone, and walked into the coolers. It was time to make a list of what she needed at the wholesaler tomorrow morning. She might be able to concentrate that long.

A
MY SPENT THE
rest of the afternoon cleaning up in the workroom to burn off her nervousness, but it wasn’t working. This was the same guy she’d spent almost a month now arguing with. It made no sense that her heart was racing and her hands shook. It was dinner. She had to eat, didn’t she?

The bells on the shop door jingled as Matt walked in, five minutes before six o’clock. As she turned to face him she wiped her sweaty palms on the apron she still wore.

Matt wore a sport coat, jeans, and a medium blue button-down shirt. He looked like any other guy that dressed for a dinner out, but she hadn’t seen him quite like this before. He’d shaved. He’d had his hair trimmed sometime in the past six hours. His exterior announced “mild-mannered guy with money,” but the look in his eyes was predatory.

He walked over to Amy, took the broom out of her hand, and kissed her cheek. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Ready?”

“Are you sure?” she burst out. “This is a very bad idea. I’m not dressed—”

“It’s a great idea. Let’s go.” He leaned the broom in a corner. “Well, let’s take the apron off first.” He reached for the bow tied at Amy’s waist with his other hand and pulled it free.

She tugged the apron off over her head, smoothed her hair, and hoped the makeup and lip gloss she’d hurriedly applied wasn’t smeared. He took her hand.

“I’ll be back in a minute, okay?” She tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t let go.

“You’re going to the ladies’ room to check your makeup and comb your hair, aren’t you?”

“You’re all dressed up and I—”

“Amy.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “You look great.” She could have sworn she felt electricity arc between them. “Let’s get out of here.” He drew her toward the front door of the shop. “You put the cash in the safe, right?”

“Yes.”

Amy snagged her purse off the hook beneath the cash register, grabbed her keys off the front counter, and he held the door so she could pass through it. Two minutes later they were in his car, and he was pulling out into traffic. She dropped her keys into her purse and resisted the impulse to grab a mirror and check the makeup Matt didn’t seem to care about.

“So.” Matt glanced over at her. “How was your day?”

“Busy. There were lots of deliveries, but the driver was able to handle it, so things were fine.”

“How’s he working out?”

“He’s good. I don’t have to worry about whether or not he’s doing what I tell him to do. The customers seem to like him. Plus, it’s nice for the surrounding neighborhood to know there’s a guy in the store.”

Matt stopped at a light and turned to her. “Are you worried about being robbed?”

“No. I just . . . Oh, it’s fine.” She waved a hand toward him. His brows knit, but he stepped on the gas when the light turned green.

“Well, Fifi, I’m relieved to hear it.”

He pulled off onto a street Amy didn’t immediately recognize and stopped in front of what looked like a residential home. She expected someplace like the Dahlia Lounge or El Gaucho; somewhere Matt could show off. She’d guessed wrong.

Matt opened the car door for her and took her hand as they climbed a small staircase stepping inside.

“Hey, Matt! How are you doing?” The hostess picked up two menus. “Good to see you again.”

“I’m fine, thanks. This is Amy,” he told the hostess. She’d never had a guy introduce her to a restaurant’s hostess before. Maybe he considered it important she was known here. Amy reached out to shake the hostess’ hand; she looked a little surprised.

Matt and Amy were seated at a table for two in a secluded alcove. Amy glanced around. For a smallish restaurant, she couldn’t believe how peaceful it was. Even though it was late afternoon, lit crystal candleholders graced each white cloth-covered tabletop. The walls were painted a buttery yellow and covered in framed antique-looking family photos. The windows were draped in old-fashioned cotton floral prints. Grape vines wrapped around the curtain rods. For the moment, Matt and Amy appeared to be the only customers.

“I think you’ll like the food,” Matt said, picking up his menu.

“I’m sure it’s delicious. Do you come here often?”

“They know me,” he said. His voice was dry, and Amy let out a laugh. “You like Italian food, don’t you?”

“I thought everyone did.”

The server appeared, a bottle of pinot noir was ordered, and Amy leaned back in her chair.

“So, what do you think?” Matt asked.

“It’s nice here.” He reached across the table, and laced his fingers through Amy’s. “It’s like having dinner at home.”

His eyes lit up. “I hoped you’d like it.”

Amy wasn’t accustomed to quiet dinner dates. When she dated Brian, he wasn’t interested in conversation. He liked showing off. Their first “date” was running a 5K. She couldn’t find him at the finish line, and didn’t hear from him until he sent her a text later that night: GREAT RACE. LET’S GET TOGETHER AGAIN.

Amy had stood at the finish line of more half-marathons than she cared to count in the past year. When Brian wasn’t running, he was lifting, riding his bike, or swimming. She couldn’t keep up with him. She wasn’t opposed to physical fitness, but she wished for some time with a man who found what she might have to say as worthwhile as how much he could bench press.

Matt still held her hand, and an easy silence fell between them. He was as calm and relaxed as if he and Amy sat in his living room. He leaned toward her, but she squirmed away. The nerves began to churn in her stomach as a result.

She’d been on many first dates in her life. The biggest difference between this first date and every other she’d had, though, was the fact Matt wanted to spend an evening getting to know her at a place they’d both be comfortable. The restaurant they were sitting in was nice, but it wasn’t somewhere to see or be seen. He was out with the woman he’d chosen, but he made it clear he focused on her.

Despite the scores of reasons she kept reminding herself of why dating Matt wasn’t a great idea, she was beginning to wonder why she’d resisted him for so long.

The contrast between Matt and Brian could not have been more jarring. Matt was drawing Amy into conversation by spending the evening in a cozy and intimate restaurant. Brian made it clear over and over that he wasn’t interested in her as a person. She was just someone to show off to, or someone that looked good on his arm at the professional functions lawyers in a big firm were required to attend.

Normally, Amy would push back on Matt’s control. She wasn’t good at expectations. She was even worse at feelings, especially the kind that could leave her crying again. She knew how it would end. He was going to make her fall in love with him, and then he’d decide he wanted someone else. It was inevitable.

He broke into her fearful thoughts with a soft, “Hey, Fifi.”

“I can’t believe you’re still calling me that.”

His smile started with the dimples on either side of his mouth, and made its way to his eyes. “Of course I am. Isn’t Fifi your alter-ego?” he teased. “Plus, if I called you ‘honey’ or ‘darling,’ you’d either barf into my entrée or ask me if I was feeling all right. What’s a guy to do?” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to come up with a ridiculous nickname for you as well,” she said.

“I look forward to that.” He squeezed her hand. She couldn’t stop the grin that spread over her face. They had a private joke, and she was elated.

The server arrived with the bottle of wine Matt ordered, fumbled with the wine opener, and almost knocked a wine glass onto the floor when the bottle slipped on the tablecloth.

Matt gave the server an encouraging nod. “They get away from me sometimes, too. Let me try.”

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said. “Usually I’m really good at this.”

“Of course you are,” Matt said without a trace of irony or sarcasm in his voice. Amy looked on in amazement. The server handed him the corkscrew and the bottle. A few deft motions later, he opened the bottle and handed it back to her. “Here you go.”

“It’s my first night here. I’m pretty nervous.” The server poured a few drops into Amy’s glass. Amy almost told her that Matt was supposed to taste the wine, but she lifted the glass to her nose instead. It smelled fine. The first taste wasn’t bad, either.

“What do you think, Amy?” he asked.

“It’s very nice.”

The server poured them both a glass. “I’ll be back in a few moments to take your order,” and hurried away.

“That was interesting, wasn’t it?” She saw him smile again, and she had to smile, too. If Matt wanted everyone in the restaurant to know what a star he was, he’d just passed on a pretty big opportunity. She was sure most other people wouldn’t have been so calm and patient with the server and her mistakes. She started a mental list:
Great Things about Matt
.

“What are you going to eat, Matt?”

The look in his eyes told Amy food was the last thing on his mind. He seemed more interested in holding her hand. He laid the menu down by his plate.

“I like the
ragu bolognese
. What sounds good to you?”

“I think I’d like the gnocchi.”

“We’ll get some salad, too.” He took another sip from his wineglass. “Are you blushing?”

“Probably,” she muttered. The image of Matt in the shower remained burned onto her brain pan. He was gorgeous all over. Of course she couldn’t stop thinking about that, either.

“It’s just me.”

“I know.” She took a sip of ice water, resisting the impulse to dunk her napkin in it and apply it to her burning cheeks.

“We could argue about something. Would that make you feel more at ease?” Matt teased.

She couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled out of her. He looked pleased.

“There she is. I was wondering where you were hiding,” he said.

Matt gave their order to the server, who had just reappeared, and they looked out the window at the pinks, dark blues, and violets of dusk smudged over the sky. There were other diners in the restaurant now, but the world had shrunk to their little table for two. She leaned forward in her chair, seemingly pulled by an invisible string. She ran her fingers over the calluses on his hands. They must be from the gym, she told herself. He wasn’t splitting wood or building something behind the desk at Pro Sports Network. Amy realized Matt had spoken. “Are you enjoying this?”