Touchdown for Love Read online

  Lindsay glanced at Stacy, who chose not to wear a tank top under her shirt. She was six feet tall and with a model’s body, perfectly shaped and proportioned. Her brown hair hung nearly to her waist in waves Lindsay was jealous of, and her face belonged on the cover of a magazine. Lindsay watched as Stacy added makeup to her already flawless face and sighed as she looked at herself in the mirror.

  At barely 5’4”, Lindsay looked like a munchkin next to Stacy. She was much curvier than Stacy, and when she had time, she worked out so those curves didn’t turn into chubbiness; they easily could, she knew. Her blonde hair, which she’d braided, had the potential to be lovely, but Lindsay often got frustrated with it and pulled it back, just like she had that morning. Luckily, when she pulled the braid loose, her hair actually had what looked like stylish waves rather than frizzy curls.

  Stacy glanced at her hair and gasped. “Oh honey, I wish my hair would do that when I’ve had it up all day.”

  Lindsay laughed. “I’m as surprised as you are, Stacy.” She began adding to her makeup; all the girls were expected to wear makeup when they worked games at the club. “I wish I could put on makeup the way you do. Yours is always flawless.”

  “My mom taught me,” Stacy told her, flicking a blush brush across her cheeks. “If I want to find my rich hubby like she did, I better know what I’m doing, right?”

  Lindsay frowned as she paused to look at Stacy in the mirror. “A rich husband?”

  “Sure. I can’t be a waitress my whole life.” Stacy smirked when she looked at Lindsay’s reflection. “Why do you think I work here?”

  “To find a husband?” Lindsay asked, astonished.

  “Of course,” Stacy replied with a shrug. “I’m just biding my time.”

  “I thought it was against the rules to date the patrons,” Lindsay said. The waitresses and bartenders were required to call the men they served patrons rather than customers, which Lindsay thought was silly. It was habit now, though.

  Stacy waved her hand dismissively. “Lots of things are against the rules, but if you want something you should go after it.” She smiled slyly at Lindsay and winked. “See you out there, hot stuff.”

  Lindsay smiled back, a small, unsure smile. Stacy always used nicknames when she addressed the other waitresses; Lindsay assumed, and was probably right, that she did that because she didn’t know their names and couldn’t be bothered to learn them. But she liked Stacy; she was honest, straightforward, and had welcomed Lindsay into the fold. Even if she didn’t know her name.

  Dating patrons was against the rules, Lindsay knew that. The boss had repeated it several times throughout her first week. She wasn’t sure how strict he was about that rule; Stacy had gone out with one or two patrons, and so had a couple of the other girls. It was an if-I-don’t-see-it-it-didn’t-happen kind of thing, as far as Lindsay had noticed. But she was a rule follower by nature and would not date a patron, regardless of who he was.

  A few famous people visited the club on game days. She’d met a famous actor, and two state senators were members of the club, although neither had actually visited while she was there. No matter who they were, every man who was a member was a millionaire, minimum. Lindsay could understand Stacy’s desire, and the desires of a handful of the other waitresses, to bag a husband here.

  She left the locker room, her mind preoccupied with the rules, and nearly ran over her boss. “Oh, Mr. Charles, I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s quite alright, dear,” he replied, patting her jovially on the shoulder. His British accent, so out of place in Florida, always brought a smile to her face. He sounded so formal while he went about his business. “Ready for a busy evening? Opening day, you know.”

  Lindsay’s smile grew larger as she answered. “Yes, sir. I’m ready for those tips.” They shared a laugh.

  “Alright, dear, get to it. The doors open in five,” Mr. Charles responded as he continued down the hall to check on the food, which usually arrived from the catering service after the first inning.

  Lindsay continued to the bar, where she picked up her notepad and pencil as well as her apron. The apron, a small swatch of cloth, barely covered her shorts and so was actually useless for spills and such, but it did have two small pockets where she stored her notepad, pencil, and tips. She was grateful this place wasn’t one of those where all tips were placed in a large jar and divided evenly among the staff. That had never seemed fair to her because, in reality, some waitresses were just better than others and deserved better tips.

  Her thoughts returned to Stacy’s desire for a husband and her plan to find one here. As she tied on her apron, her mind ran through the list of regulars she had met during last season and at some of the functions and charity events held at the club. Most of the patrons were old enough to be her father. Some were so perverted she wondered how on earth they’d managed to convince a woman to marry them. Those with wedding rings were the most likely to grope your butt as you walked by, which bothered Lindsay, but not enough to make her quit. She avoided those tables as best as she could.

  Most of the patrons were polite, for the most part, and some were just plain fun to look at. Several of the younger patrons were good looking, and according to Stacy, loaded. Stacy would bustle over to those tables, even if they were in Lindsay’s section, just to chat with the men and make sure they didn’t need anything. She flirted outrageously, and on most nights, she had a larger stack of bills than Lindsay did. Lindsay, however, was friendly and professional, a good waitress, and she was appreciated for her efforts. She’d learned long ago to distinguish which patrons preferred her style to Stacy’s, and the two of them worked that out between them regardless of section assignments.

  An hour before game time, the doors to the club opened. Another twenty minutes passed before patrons began strolling in. Most were dressed casually in jeans. Some wore t-shirts while others wore button-downs. Lindsay figured their clothes and shoes cost more than a week’s salary, but if they could afford it, more power to them.

  She raised an eyebrow at Stacy and indicated the trio that had just walked in. Stacy looked and waved her hand dismissively: not rich enough. Lindsay laughed and walked over to the group for their drink orders. They were flirty bordering on inappropriate. Nonetheless, not one of them crossed the line into vulgarity, so Lindsay was happy to play along, hoping for the generous tip at the end of the game.

  Just before the first pitch, Lindsay heard a familiar voice call her name while she was waiting at the bar for the bartender to finish making the drinks. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Samwell, a good-looking, kind man who flirted with her and had even asked her out a time or two. She’d always turned him down, but he always asked again. She found him charming.

  “Hey, Samwell! How’s the world treating you?” Lindsay called

  “Better now that I’m here, gorgeous. How are you?” Samwell had a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his face as he spoke to her.

  She smiled up at him. “Always a good day when the Kingfish are playing.” Lindsay couldn’t care less about baseball before she’d started working here, but she had discovered a love of the game, even if she thought professional sports players were ridiculously overpaid. “Who’s your friend?”

  Samwell glanced back as if he’d forgotten he’d brought someone in with him. “Oh, this is Brian.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Brian said as he shook her hand.

  “I’m Lindsay.” The bartender put the drinks on her tray; she picked it up and turned slowly. “Well, guys, I’ll be over as soon as I drop these off. Regular table, Samwell?”

  “We’ll be there,” Samwell answered and meandered through the crowd to his usual table, Brian following close behind him.

  As Lindsay delivered the drinks with a smile on her face and a friendly exchange with the patrons, she wondered why Samwell’s table was never taken, even when he was late. She had no idea what he did for a living; she always assumed he was in finance like the majority of the men in t
he room. He certainly wasn’t the owner of the team or the owner’s son or anything like that.

  Just lucky, I guess, she thought with a shrug. But that didn’t really satisfy her curiosity as much as she’d have liked.

  ***

  Samwell walked through the group of tables, raising a hand to greet those he knew but not stopping to chat with any of them. Once he and Brian were seated, he turned his gaze on Lindsay, the beautiful waitress who had caught his eye her first day working here and who frolicked through his mind on a regular basis. Even when he hadn’t seen her in weeks, she would just appear there like magic.

  He watched as she made her way to their table and greeted her with a smile. “Place is busy,” he commented.

  “Opening day. What can you expect?” she returned, her smile beaming off her face like sunshine. “So what can I get for you guys today?”

  Samwell gestured for Brian to order, then he ordered for himself. “It’s good to see you again. I wondered if you were still working here.”

  “For these tips? Heck yeah!” she exclaimed with a chuckle.

  “How was your winter? Better than Colorado?” Samwell asked, aware after many flirtatious conversations where she was from.

  “Oh gosh, yes! No snow for the first winter in my life. I didn’t know what to do with myself,” Lindsay laughed. “I’ll go get this drink order in. Don’t forget about the food in the back.”

  “Keep them coming, beautiful. We’ll be here for the entire game.”

  “Will do, Samwell,” she replied, pointing a finger at him as she walked away.

  Samwell watched her walk away until he could no longer see her, mesmerized by the grace of her movement. She looked like she was born to model, moving in a way that drew men’s eyes to her, and not just to ogle her body, although he knew most of the men in this room were doing just that.

  After she was out of sight, he turned to look at Brian, who was staring at him with a grin on his face. “What?” Samwell asked.

  “You. You’re staring at that girl like you’re about to kidnap her,” Brian said.

  Samwell scoffed, “Nothing like that. She’s just attractive.”

  “Your flirting tells me it’s more than just her looks. You like her,” Brian laughed, preparing to launch a full-on man teasing. “What’s the problem? Ask her out.”

  “They aren’t allowed to date customers,” Samwell grouched.

  Brian threw his head back, laughing loudly. “So you have asked her out, and she turned you down! I can’t believe a woman would turn down Samwell Graffton, quarterback stud.”

  “She doesn’t know who I am,” Samwell informed him.

  Brian’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You’re joking! Your face is everywhere! Even if she isn’t a football fan, she should have seen your commercials.”

  Samwell shrugged. “I honestly don’t think she’s pays attention to that stuff.” He leaned closer and smiled knowingly. “That’s half her appeal—that she has no idea who I am. I know she’s not after me because I’m a pro baller.”

  Brian shook his head. “And is she the reason you’ve been ignoring your buzzing phone all afternoon?”

  Samwell glanced down at the phone he’d taken out of his pocket when he’d sat down. He had three messages, all from the same person. Brian snatched his phone. “Tiffany Lee? Don’t I know her?”

  “You should! She’s at all the parties for the players. She so badly wants a player for a boyfriend, and she doesn’t hide it well,” Samwell reminded him. “She’s a nice enough chick, but I don’t want someone like that. Besides, I heard from the last guy she dated she is very clingy.”

  “That’s never good, no matter how hot the chick is,” Brian mused. “So, as your coach, I demand you ask that woman out again. Charm her. We both know you can.”

  Samwell laughed. “Of course I can!” He was about to say something else when Lindsay returned with their drinks. She put napkins on the table and placed their drinks in front of them. Samwell looked up at her and smiled. “Thanks, beautiful.”

  Lindsay rolled her eyes at him. “Would you stop with that?”

  “Can’t help myself.” He took her hand and kissed it, causing a blush to rush up her neck and her face. “You’re even gorgeous when you blush.”

  Lindsay pulled her hand away. “I wouldn’t blush if you wouldn’t embarrass me.”

  “So how was school today?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “Exhausting. My sweet little babies keep me on my toes, that’s for sure,” Lindsay answered.

  “Oh you’re a teacher?” Brian interjected. “Where do you teach?”

  “Willingham Elementary,” Lindsay answered automatically, although she had never revealed that information before. She frowned at herself, and Samwell noticed.

  Ah, an in, he thought gleefully.

  “Do you need anything else, fellas?” Lindsay asked quickly.

  “I’d love a date, cutie,” Samwell said, smiling hugely, and he hoped, charmingly.

  Lindsay laughed. “You never quit. I think you just want to go out with me because I keep telling you no.”

  “Go out with me and find out,” he winked.

  “You know the answer, Samwell. It’s against the rules, and I kind of like this job,” Lindsay answered, tilting her head to the side and smiling. “Yell at me if you need anything.”

  Samwell watched her walk away, a plan forming in his mind. He’d be going on a journey tomorrow to Willingham Elementary School.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Late Friday afternoon, Lindsay sighed as she set aside her graded papers and picked up the last stack. Her brain was fried, but she had plowed through everything she needed to get done today: lesson plans, behavioral plans, and grading. She had an hour left before she could leave, which was more than enough time get the last of the grading done, even with the fact that she and a handful of other teachers had treated themselves to the rare lunch out at a restaurant. She was lucky, she knew; many school districts didn’t offer a teacher workday without students present. Her school allowed for one per grading period, and she was eternally grateful for it because she very rarely had to take home work.

  As she went through each of her students’ handwriting papers, her thoughts floated away. Handwriting didn’t require perfect attention to grade, so her mind wandered to the water bill. It was her turn to pay it. Payday was still two weeks away for the teachers, who were only paid once a month, and she didn’t have enough in her bank account to cover the water bill and have food and gas for the next two weeks. Gratefully, the Kingfish had a game tomorrow and another on Sunday. She hoped her tips would be enough to keep her afloat. Unfortunately, the club only paid actual paychecks every two weeks, and that would happen after the water bill was due.

  Again she sighed, but for a very different reason. She had skills that would earn her money; she had minored in writing while in college and had published a handful of articles over various subjects in the college newspaper. Maybe she should start searching for a writing job rather than waitressing. But that meant no tips. Maybe she could work three jobs? she wondered, but she discarded the idea almost immediately. She needed some sleep and would enjoy a social life, even if her social life meant dinner with Abbie at their favorite Chinese food place, Kon Chau, once a month.

  As Lindsay stared at a student’s paper, scrunching her eyebrows while trying to decipher exactly what word the child was trying to write, her mind skipped over to Samwell. Her frown deepened. Why in the world am I thinking about him? she wondered. But a smile skipped across her face as she figured out the word and why the handsome man was on her mind.

  Samwell was at least 6’6” with flawless dark skin, a face that reminded her of a young Denzel, and a body that, had she been looking, would make her drool. Broad shoulders, a trim waist, and legs and arms sculpted like the statue of David. As she recorded her students’ grades in the online gradebook, she had to admit to herself that she had drooled, just a little. The man was an Af
rican god!

  She snapped herself back to reality when she realized she had transposed several numbers in the grading column. She grumbled under breath and forced her attention to remain on her work. She didn’t want to redo this later.

  But Samwell drifted into her mind’s eye several times, regardless of how many times she told herself to put him away.

  ***

  Because Samwell had been raised in a poor neighborhood in New York, he understood the financial needs of smaller schools. As part of his promise to himself and to God, he and a handful of his teammates had created a charity that helped poorer school districts with school supplies as well as any technology needs they might have. He loved working with the kids and often handled the business end of his charity whenever he could. Most of the money was his, money he’d invested in various stocks and put right into the account for supplies. He lived off of his football paychecks, which were substantial. All other income went to his charity or other charities he felt strongly about. His accountant had fits.

  Today, he was visiting Willingham Elementary, Lindsay’s school. He had done his research and had been thrilled when he saw on the calendar that today was a teacher workday. Although the school was in a decent neighborhood, the district was a poorer one in this section of Miami, with more than half of their students on the free- and reduced-lunch program. Samwell had two reasons to be here: he wanted to help the students of Willingham, and he wanted to charm Lindsay into a date.

  His meeting with the principal had gone well, and he was now taking him around for a tour of the school. Samwell had already decided the school needed new technology. Educationally, technology was indispensable, in his opinion. In today’s world, a kid had to know how to use all sorts of technology in order to survive.