Touchdown for Love Page 5

  Just as she had decided to slip back into slumber, a knock that sounded like a wrecking ball hitting her door jarred her up. Abbie didn’t wait for Lindsay to answer; she barged in, her laptop in her hands. Lindsay laid back down and covered her head with the comforter, mumbling to herself about early risers.

  “I’ve got a bone to pick with you, missy!” Abbie flopped down on the bed next to her and pulled her comforter off her head. “Why didn’t you tell me who Samwell was?”

  Lindsay stared up at her, mind muddled by sleep. “What do you mean? I told you who he was. Samwell Graffton.”

  “Samwell Graffton! Lindsay, don’t you know who that is?”

  “The guy I went on a date with last night,” Lindsay mumbled. “What is wrong with you?”

  Abbie rolled her eyes. “I swear, if I didn’t live with you I would think you lived under a rock.” She turned to her laptop, Facebook opened, and gestured to a story. “You’re famous.”

  Lindsay focused on the picture someone had shared on their page, which was a link to a gossip website she’d heard of but had never read. Her eyes widened. The picture was of her and Samwell at the restaurant, leaning in to speak to each other, looking very cozy. Frowning, she clicked on the picture, which led to a story about the “mystery woman” who had stolen Samwell Graffton’s heart.

  “Mystery woman?” Lindsay repeated. “What the hell?” She looked at Abbie. “I am so confused right now.”

  “Lindsay, Samwell Graffton is the first-string quarterback for the Miami Sharks. He helped lead the team into the Super Bowl last year. How do you not know who he is?” Abbie was exasperated by her.

  “I don’t watch football,” Lindsay murmured as she scanned the story. Another picture was attached, one of the two of them kissing on the boardwalk. Her face lit on fire, she was so embarrassed.

  “You don’t have to watch football to know who he is. His face is everywhere! He does ads for Nike, and I think he used to do Calvin Klein underwear shoots.”

  Abbie took the laptop and searched Samwell’s name as Lindsay watched. She clicked on images and pictures popped up of him in nothing but boxer briefs and a smile. Several pics of him in his football uniform came up, as well as YouTube videos of games and Nike commercials.

  Lindsay was astounded, her mouth hanging open as they continued to scroll through pics of Samwell in various football poses. “Not one person at the club told me who he was,” she mused quietly, as she stared at what seemed like hundreds of pictures of this man she felt like she was falling for.

  “They probably thought you knew, Lindsay. I mean, everybody knows him,” Abbie said, shaking her head. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “No,” Lindsay said, shaking her head. Her phone pinged its email notification. She reached for it and opened the email. She frowned when she didn’t recognize the name of the sender and clicked on it. She read through it quickly and gasped.

  “What is it?” Abbie asked, peering over her shoulder.

  Ms. Rice,

  I’m a reporter for Exclusive Magazine. I would love to talk to you about your relationship with Samwell Graffton. The magazine is willing to pay top dollar if you’re interested.

  Look forward to hearing from you,

  Sally Stein

  “Holy crap,” Abbie murmured, looking at Lindsay, who hadn’t spoken or even moved since she’d read the message. As they sat in silence, two more emails popped up from people she didn’t know.

  “Reporters are emailing me because I’m dating a football player.” Lindsay spoke slowly, her anger rising like the blush spreading across her face. “This is insane! How could he not tell me!”

  “You should look at some of these stories,” Abbie murmured, a deep frown marring her face. “He’s been quite the player in the past.”

  Lindsay glanced at the local gossip website Abbie had pulled up. She’d searched Samwell’s name, and several articles and pictures had popped up, all about women he’d been with. The most recent, written early that morning, was about the fact that no one had seen Samwell in the clubs or with any women for the last few months. Lindsay calculated the time period since she’d first served Samwell.

  “Oh my god.” Realization had left her speechless.

  “What?” Abbie asked, looking at her.

  “This article says that Samwell hasn’t been to any clubs or seen with any women since February. That’s when I met him at the Kingfish Club. He was there for a special event of some kind, and it was my first time to waitress there. I was hired permanently after that gig.”

  “That’s crazy,” Abbie said. “Do you think he’s in love with you?”

  Lindsay scoffed, “No way! Since February!” She gestured to the screen. “And did you see those women he’s used to dating? Models and actresses with perfect bodies and lots of money. Why in the world would he like someone like me?”

  “Maybe that’s exactly why he likes you. Because you are different from all those women,” Abbie told her. “And besides all that, you’re beautiful. Men stare at you, and you don’t even notice. Which is what makes you so sexy.”

  Lindsay shook her head. “Men do not stare at me.”

  Abbie rolled her eyes. “Deny it all you want, sweetie. But I’ve seen it.”

  “Maybe they were looking at you.” Lindsay’s frown deepened as she thought about the men at the club. Yes, they paid attention to her, but Stacy and the other girls got way more attention.

  “Lindsay, that’s what I’m talking about. You don’t realize how beautiful you are, and men find that attractive. I’d bet a year’s salary that Samwell likes you because you are a teacher. And because you had no idea who he was. You didn’t go out with him because he’s a famous quarterback or because he has millions. You went out with him simply because you liked him.”

  Lindsay thought about Abbie’s reasoning and decided it made sense. On their date, he had avoided discussing his work with her, and she realized she never actually asked him what he did for a living. She blanched when she remembered what she’d said about professional football players and put her face in her hands.

  Abbie had been watching her, wondering what was going through her mind. “What?”

  Lindsay laughed at herself. “I told Samwell I thought professional athletes were players and too dumb to handle their money.”

  Abbie’s laughter exploded out of her. “That’s hilarious and awful at the same time! Why would you say that?”

  Lindsay started giggling too. “Have you read some of those articles about football players? They’re famous for earning millions and losing the millions just as quickly.”

  “That’s so true, but you don’t say it to a player!” Abbie had doubled over with laughter, and Lindsay joined her.

  “I didn’t know who he was!” Lindsay defended, laughing so hard she put her hand over her stomach and flopped back down on the bed. As their laughter ended, she voiced her concern. “What kind of life will I have if I’m dating a famous quarterback? I don’t want to be on the gossip sites or followed around by paparazzi.” She looked at her friend. “What should I do?”

  “You told me you liked him last night, right?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “You either like him or you don’t, Lindsay.”

  Lindsay sighed. “I do like him.”

  “Then you have your answer. Keep dating him. See if it’s as bad as you think. He’s hot news today because you were seen and photographed, but tomorrow some other celebrity will do something much more interesting, and you’ll be forgotten.”

  “My students’ parents will see this. My principal and the other teachers.” She gasped. “Oh God, what if Mr. Charles see it?”

  “Who is Mr. Charles?”

  “My boss at the club. He’ll fire me,” Lindsay said.

  “Maybe, maybe not.”

  “Yeah. I mean, Samwell has stopped going to the club. Or said he will, so that’ll have to do.”

  “On a serious note, if you really like him and you
want to date him, you should.”

  Lindsay nodded, lost in her thoughts again. She did like him, a lot, and she wasn’t going to stop seeing him. Unless she couldn’t deal with the press. She’d have to talk to Samwell about all this, but she wasn’t going to stop seeing him.

  “Time to get ready for the game, I guess. Maybe no one saw the news,” Lindsay said, throwing the covers off.

  “Even if they did, remind them it’s none of their business.”

  “I certainly will.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lindsay dressed in her uniform at home rather than change once she was there. She was a little excited about the Sunday afternoon game; more patrons visited the club, which meant her tips were higher. As she drove the twenty minutes to the stadium, she hummed to herself, a smile permanently etched on her face. Or that’s what it felt like. She couldn’t wait to see Samwell tomorrow night and wished she’d been able to go with him to brunch this morning.

  She would have to deal with the whole paparazzi thing, but she wasn’t too concerned about it. After all, they had only been on one date, and even though she thought they would go on many more, she couldn’t know his feelings for sure. She had an inkling that his feelings were similar to hers, but she reminded herself she couldn’t predict his actions.

  In the parking lot of the stadium, she pulled into her usual spot and checked her hair before climbing out of the car. A screech caused her to jerk back against the door, slamming it with more force than she’d meant to. Her hand was on her chest, her heart pounding without control.

  “What is wrong with you?” Lindsay said to Stacy, trying to catch her breath.

  “You went on a date with Samwell Graffton? I thought you weren’t going to date anybody from the club, you little liar!” Stacy grabbed her hands and jumped up and down, her excitement causing her to squeeze Lindsay’s hands more tightly than she normally would have.

  Lindsay looked around to make sure they were alone in the parking lot. She shushed Stacy. “You have to be quiet!” But she giggled as she admonished. “But yes, I went out with him! How did you know?”

  “I am a gossip website addict. Gotta keep up with what the players are doing if I’m going to catch one for myself. So what happened? You’ve been telling him no for months!” Stacy held her hand, swinging it as they walked to the door.

  “Well, he apparently runs a charity that buys school supplies for schools in poorer neighborhoods. He visited my school, and we got to talking. He said he would stop coming to the club if I’d go out with him,” Lindsay said with a shrug.

  “That’s so fantastic! I’m so happy for you, sweetie!” Stacy exclaimed, squeezing her hand, then releasing it to open the door.

  Lindsay grabbed her before she stepped in. “Please don’t say anything. I’m scared I’ll get in trouble even if he has agreed to stop coming here.”

  Stacy’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Of course! My mouth is closed. But you should know pretty much every girl in here keeps up with the gossip.”

  “Hopefully they’ll keep it to themselves.” Lindsay followed Stacy in the direction of the locker room. As they passed the kitchen, Mr. Charles looked up. Lindsay waved and said, “Hello, Mr. Charles.”

  The look on his face was not a favorable one. “Ms. Rice, I need to speak with you.” Stacy had slowed and looked back at Lindsay, her eyebrows raised at the tone in his voice. Mr. Charles stepped out and looked at Stacy. “Privately please.”

  Stacy hurried into the locker room, and Lindsay looked at Mr. Charles, an expectant, innocent look on her face. She didn’t speak, preferring to let him address the problem rather than confessing to something.

  “Ms. Rice, as you know, it is a direct violation of the rules for the waitresses here to fraternize with the patrons outside of the work place.” Lindsay nodded but still did not speak. Mr. Charles sighed and lost the hoity-toity tone of voice. “Ms. Rice, I saw the pictures of you and Mr. Graffton at dinner and on the boardwalk. What’s worse, the owner saw it as well.”

  Lindsay sighed. “May I offer an explanation?”

  “You may, but I can tell you it won’t do you any good. The owner called me very early this morning and told me to fire you if you came in today.” Mr. Charles’s face showed a disappointment that caused a pang in Lindsay’s chest.

  “Fire me? But Mr. Charles, Samwell will not be a patron at this club any longer. He doesn’t want to create that conflict for me. Please, could I speak with the owner?”

  “I’m sorry. He prefers to deal only with me. And because Mr. Graffton was here earlier this week and because he has paid his yearly fee for this season, he is considered a patron whether he chooses to visit the club or not.” Mr. Charles watched Lindsay’s face fall. “Ms. Rice, I really am sorry. I’ve liked you since you began working here. You’re an exceptional waitress. But there is nothing I can do.”

  Lindsay nodded, her head down so he didn’t see the tears she fought to control. “I understand, Mr. Charles. Thank you for the compliments. I’ll, um, go clean out my locker.”

  He held an envelope out to her before she could walk away. She glanced at it, then up at him questioningly. “I convinced the owner you deserved a severance check for your service to this point. It’s not much, but I felt you deserved something more than, well, more than being fired.”

  Lindsay smiled at Mr. Charles and stepped closer to hug him. “Thank you, Mr. Charles. I am grateful that you let me work here as long as you did.” She waved the envelope at him. “And I’m thankful you think enough of me to help me out.”

  “Of course, dear.” Mr. Charles awkwardly pat her shoulder, then abruptly turned and walked away from her without saying goodbye.

  ***

  Lindsay had thrown her things in a bag she’d grabbed from behind the bar. Her locker had been mostly empty, only containing some deodorant, makeup, and an extra t-shirt. She rushed out of the club without speaking to anyone, thinking she’d text Stacy later. She knows what happened, Lindsay thought grudgingly, humiliation burning in her throat.

  She threw herself into her car and slammed the door. With her head on the steering wheel, she set her tears free and howled as the unfairness hit her hard in the gut. She’d never been fired in her life, from any job. Now she was concerned about her teaching job. Was there some kind of morality clause in her contract? What if she got fired from the school too? Panic crawled up her throat, and she forced it down, swallowing it with all her strength.

  You’re being ridiculous, she told herself. She’d done nothing wrong. She had gone on a date with a man who just happened to be famous, and her picture had ended up on the internet, with her kissing him. Those kinds of pictures could spurn spurious rumors, causing the school board to think twice about her contract. They might not fire me in the middle of the school year, but they don’t have to renew my contract if they think I’m some slutty football player groupie.

  “Stop it!” she cried out loud. She had completely lost control of her mind, and she needed to regain it before she did something irrational. She glanced down at her phone, which she had turned off to go into work. A text message from Samwell was waiting for her.

  SAMWELL: Hello, beautiful. I hope you slept well. Call when you can. I’d love to hear your voice. I’ll be at the stadium until three for a meeting then workouts, so please call me after that.

  The time on the message said the message had been sent nearly an hour ago, which confused her. But she couldn’t really remember when she’d turned off her phone. Debating over whether she should call right now while she was upset, she sat in the parking lot for another few minutes until she’d calmed down. She searched her contacts and pressed his name. The phone rang five times and went to voicemail. She listened to his voice, and rather than calming her, her fury began to rise again. She ended the call.

  If he’d told her who he was, she might have reconsidered going out with him. He’d kept that information from her, which, in her opinion, was tantamount to lying. He had lie
d to get her to go out with him. That bastard.

  The clock on her dashboard said 12:30. Decision made, Lindsay turned on her car, jerked out of the parking spot, and roared out of the parking lot.

  ***

  Unfamiliar with the football stadium, Lindsay drove around the parking lot until she saw Samwell’s familiar car. Now that she was here, her decision to come here didn’t seem nearly as intelligent as it had when she’d peeled out of the parking lot like a teenage boy. She sat in her parked car, wondering if maybe she should just leave. Frustrated and feeling lost, she put her head against the steering wheel again, letting some of the tension ease out of her shoulders.

  A knock on her window, for the second time that day, nearly gave her a heart attack. She stared into the lovely face of a young woman, probably close to her age, but she was wearing so much makeup, Lindsay couldn’t be sure. She rolled down her window a little. “May I help you?”

  “Hi. Aren’t you Samwell’s new girlfriend?”

  Lindsay frowned. “Um, I’m the woman he took on a date last night. Doesn’t really make him my boyfriend.”

  The woman smiled and held her hand through the window to shake hers. “I’m Rose. Tim Franklin is my boyfriend. He and Samwell are pals.”

  Lindsay shook her hand hesitantly. “I’m Lindsay.”

  “You seem a little upset, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Rose said gently. “Is it because of the pictures from your date?”

  Lindsay felt tears welling in her eyes, and she blinked them back to no avail. “I lost my job because of them.” Rose nodded her head in understanding. Lindsay wiped her eyes. “If you’ll step back I’ll get out. I feel so rude making you stand and lean while I’m sitting comfortably.”

  Rose stepped back and watched Lindsay climb out. “May I make a suggestion?”

  Lindsay closed the door of her vehicle after retrieving her purse. She looked at Rose suspiciously. “Um, I guess.”