Chapter 8
He could’ve danced all night. But like all good things, the evening ended, and he drove home in a schoolboy-crush daze.
Now, slumped in his favorite chair, the Saturday morning scene beyond his downtown Nashville loft held scattered clouds and blue sky. Sam could still feel Chloe against his chest and smell the scent of her skin.
However, he’d done his knee no favors. With a moaning wince, he leaned forward to adjust the ice pack resting on his knee. He’d hardly noticed his wounded joint while dancing with Chloe last night. Today, however, his knee was in agony.
The more he thought about it, the more he realized he didn’t care. He’d held Chloe in his arms. He’d kissed her. Kissed Chloe Beason LaRue. Something he’d wanted to do for a long, long time.
She was tender and passionate, soft and supple, kissing him back with her heart as well as her body.
He thought his heart might explode for the wanting of her.
The band had changed up the music. The cacophony brought them both back into the present and suddenly she pulled away and grabbed his hand.
The next thing he knew, they were on the dance floor in a twist contest. She put some flip and flair into her hips as they twisted the night away.
It was right about then he’d caught Dr. Morgan’s eye and thought, Uh-oh.
He knew that she would bust him at his next appointment, but nothing mattered except Chloe and having fun.
What Super Bowl ring? In truth, it felt good to let go of that dream for an hour or two.
Sometimes the dream ended up owning the man.
Dad, rather, Frank, won the twist contest. He and Janice cut a mean rug, so he deserved to win, and not just because he was the birthday boy.
As much as he hated to admit it, Sam had seen a different side of his father last night.
The one from his youth, the one before his hypocrisy and cheating tore their family apart.
Sinking further into the chair, he closed his eyes and willed his knee to settle down.
Could he run down to see Chloe today? Or would that be rushing things?
He wanted to give her time. She’d seemed hesitant about moving beyond friendship.
But if it was only a matter of him being her boss, he’d quit HARDRICK and let Rick manage the bakery.
He’d dropped her off at her mom’s house and walked her to the door. Their goodnight kiss was more sweet than passionate, but he was okay with the various movements of their relationship. They were still figuring it out. He’d give her time.
They’d decided he would work a shift on Monday afternoon after he finished physical therapy. See if they could gain some momentum against Donut Heaven. But with the town council meeting in a few weeks, they didn’t have a lot of time to build support.
His phone buzzed with a text from Frank. Thanks for coming to the party, son. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to discuss something with you.
Sam started to reply then tossed his phone aside. He’d call him later. For now, more ice and painkillers.
He’d just dozed off when his phone rang. Ah, Bruno Endicott, agent extraordinaire.
“Bruno, tell me something good.”
“You’re still my favorite client.” Bruno laughed at the joke. It was one he and Sam started years ago. “How’s the knee?”
“Good. Healing.” No need to mention last night’s dancing. “What’s up? You don’t normally call on a Saturday.”
“Sam, um, I just—” Bruno paused. Too long.
“What’s up, Bruno? Tell me.” Sam’s knee throbbed.
“The Titans’ front office called. They’re going for a new franchise QB in the first round.”
Sam shoved the ice off his knee and tried to stand. But the thought of putting weight on his knee kept him poised on the front of the chair. “I’m out? Is this their way of giving me the boot? Ryder never hinted he was thinking of a change.”
“We’re in contract negotiations and you’re not cheap.”
“Hey, they offered the money. I just accepted.”
“No one doubts your worth. It’s your knee that’s the question mark—”
“But it’s not, Bruno.”
“They think it is, Sam. You’re an amazing quarterback. But sometimes the clock runs out with a certain team, and body parts just don’t heal like they used to.”
Sam slouched back into his chair. “So that’s it? I give nine years of my life to this team and after one injury they’re giving up on me?” He should’ve taken the sack instead of trying to scramble. But he’d just seen Bennett break open as the defensive end bore down on him.
“I just got off the phone with the Raiders’ front office. They are very interested. Very. Do you trust me?”
“Of course I do, Bruno. You’re the best in the business. But the Raiders?” Sam did not want to live in Vegas. Too many memories of too many wild nights in that town. Regretful memories. And if he were honest, too much temptation for his weak flesh.
“Rumor is Schnetzler’s retiring next year. You could lead the team the next ten years.”
“Bruno.” Sam’s voice broke with surprised emotion. “I love Nashville, I love the Titans, and maybe, I’m not sure, I might have met the girl I want to marry. So tell the front office I’ll be ready for summer camp. No ifs, ands, or buts.”
“Marry?” Bruno’s laugh quickly faded. “I’ve never heard you use that word before.”
“Yeah, me neither.” The confession surprised Sam as much as Bruno. Yet Chloe made him think about commitment and forever.
“Tell you what. I’ll call the Titans Monday and keep pressing until I have an answer.”
“Thank you. I mean it.”
“You really want that ring with the Titans, don’t you?”
“More than anything.” They were his family, his brothers.
After disconnecting, Sam pushed up from his chair, harder this time, until he could hobble to the fridge for a fresh ice pack from the freezer. He slapped it on his knee with invigorated resolve. He’d be ready for summer camp, no question about it, no doubts, no maybes.
His career officially came first.
Haven’s has delicious cakes for all your special occasions! Come by and taste test.
– @HavensBakeryHBTN on Twitter
Chloe tossed her beret and keys on the entry table and listened. Everything was quiet. Too quiet? Mom could be lying down, recovering from the excitement of Frank’s party last night.
“Mom?” Chloe made her way into the kitchen. She’d stopped at Cooper’s deli on the way home from the bakery and ordered two thick ham and cheese sandwiches. “I brought lunch.”
Robin was actually on time for her shift, shock and awe, so Chloe was able to leave a little after one to get some rest. And some space to remember last night. The way Sam had kissed her. The way he’d looked at her…
She shivered as she reached in the cupboard for two plates. She had thought Jean-Marc was the only man who would ever look at her like she was beautiful. Then Sam had given her a slow up and down, his smile in his eyes when he’d looked at her face.
She loved dancing with him, leaning against his firm chest, hearing his heartbeat. Then his kiss. Another involuntary shiver ran through her. She felt treasured with that kiss, not just wanted. And Sam behaved himself all night, not one inappropriate touch, not one word out of line.
“Mom? Lunch from Cooper’s. The ham on this sandwich is two inches thick. Do you want milk, water, or soda?” She went to the kitchen door. “Bonjour, Maman. Es-tu réveillé?”
She’d been exhausted after Frank’s party. She’d insisted on staying all night even when Chloe had noticed her wilting in a chair, head back, eyes closed.
“You don’t have to prove anything by staying until the end, Mom. Frank knows you’re going through treatment. I’ll drive you home.”
“No, you’re having so much fun and you need some fun in your life.” Mom had touched Chloe’s cheek and smiled. “It’s doing my mama’s heart good.”
Honey appeared and curled around Chloe’s ankle.
“Where is our maman, chatte?” She peeked into Mom’s room. The covers were thrown back, but the bed was empty.
“Mom?”
A soft moan came from the attached bathroom.
“Mom!” Chloe pushed into the room.
Mom sat by the toilet in a stained nightgown, a distinct green pallor on her face, and no wig or turban to cover her thinning hair.
“What happened?” Chloe crouched down.
Mom gave a wan smile. “I seem to have picked up a stomach bug.”
“We’re going to the ER.” Chloe helped Mom to her feet. She ignored her mom’s protests, and helped her clean herself up, get dressed, and get out the door.
Time dragged at the hospital. No one seemed to be in a hurry. Hello, sick woman undergoing cancer treatment here. After what seemed like an eternity, they were led into an exam room where an efficient doctor diagnosed Mom with a stomach virus.
“Chemo can affect the immune system. You should be over it in a day or two. Get rest and plenty of liquids.” He wrote out a script for a stronger anti-nausea medication and off they went to have it filled at the pharmacy.
Chloe carefully tended to her mom. Once they got home, Chloe set Mom up on the sofa.
She propped her up with pillows and a blanket, then made sure that Mom had everything within easy reach: TV remote, medications, tissues, water, and some herbal tea.
Throughout all of this, her phone pinged and buzzed—all of which Chloe ignored. Nothing mattered more than Mom.
She’d let work distract her from Jean-Marc and her marriage—she’d not let the bakery or Sam or anyone distract her from Mom’s care.
“Are you good? Need anything? A book?”
Mom’s smile was sweet. It was so like her to always try to smile, even amid the pain of Daddy’s death. “You’re taking good care of me. I’m fine.” Honey jumped up with a purr and curled on Mom’s lap. “Pardon me, now I’m fine.”
“I think I’ll run to the market, get a roasted chicken, and make some soup.
I can get a loaf of bread from the bakery.
” Winter still held on to the March day and the forecast predicted a solid temperature drop tonight.
“We can curl up, watch an old movie, and dip our bread slathered in butter into a rich, brothy soup.”