Chapter 11
Sam stared out the window of his downtown loft, listening to Bruno try to sell him the high points of a possible move to the Raiders.
Friday morning, spring sunshine glinted off the Cumberland River and draped a golden ribbon over the south end zone of the Titans’ stadium.
An end zone he’d be throwing to this fall if God cared at all for him.
Emotions warred inside him as Bruno kept talking, extolling the pluses of Las Vegas and the Raiders.
Yeah, he got how great it was to be wanted.
But Bruno didn’t seem to be listening to him.
Sam wanted to stay in Nashville. Although Bruno had one good point.
Why would Sam campaign to stay where he wasn’t wanted?
If the Titans were serious about the Ohio State kid, fine.
But he’d have to earn his spot. And Sam was a great competitor.
If he went to Las Vegas, would Chloe go with him?
Even as he had the thought, he knew the chance of that was slim.
She’d come to Hearts Bend because her mom was sick.
She wouldn’t leave, at least not until Mrs. B had a clean bill of health.
While he’d expressed his growing love, Chloe was still coming around.
She was still falling in love. Sam was pretty sure he’d hit rock bottom.
He paused his call with Bruno to take the incoming call from the oven repair company.
He’d taken over the job from Chloe since she had enough on her plate managing the roof and ceiling repair.
She’d made a deal with Valentino’s to use their ovens until their chefs came in at ten a.m. She and Laura Kate started baking down the street when Valentino’s closed at midnight and then worked a full day at Haven’s as well.
On Sundays, thank goodness, they sold day-old bread, donuts, cakes, and cookies. But even those were delicious.
“Look, I need a repairman today. Yes, this is really Sam Hardy, the quarterback. Now do I have my technician or not?” One more day and he’d pull the plug and buy a new oven.
He’d pay for it himself if Rick couldn’t find funds in the budget.
Right now, he’d do anything for Chloe. He sighed and ran a hand over his head.
Man, he was in deep, wasn’t he? The company promised to have someone there by lunchtime, and Sam clicked back over.
“Bruno, sorry, I’m back. Bakery business.”
“What about football business? Sam, don’t let your injury cause you to lose focus. We have a real chance here to resurrect your career.”
“But Vegas, Bruno?” No, he wanted Tennessee. Hearts Bend. Chloe. “What’s going on with your new guy?” He’d just change the subject, get Bruno on to something else. “Ellis out of Georgia Tech? Fastest forty at the Combine.” He gave a low whistle. “That’ll get him some attention.”
“I know what you’re doing, Hardy. I’m focused on you too.
But, yeah, Ellis is a hot prospect. We’re expecting he’ll be first round in the draft.
Now, back to you. Ryder’s concerned you’re going to push your recovery and not heal, then blow the knee again mid-season.
Besides, they want Fields. They’ve been drooling over him since his first game at Ohio State. ”
“Okay, then what’s the plan?” He hated this, the uncertainty, the feeling of betrayal. But it was the NFL. That’s how the game was really played.
“The Raiders.”
Sam closed his eyes, fighting to keep his tone calm. “I told you. I don’t want to move to Vegas.”
“They’re keen on you. I also talked to Phoenix and Seattle.”
“I’d rather be on the East Coast.”
“I’ll make some more calls. But the Falcons just named their new franchise quarterback and Jacksonville is happy with…
” Bruno’s voice faded into yada, yada. The man was trying.
He was on Sam’s team, but just like that, Sam was looking at a career he was no longer sure he even wanted.
He’d gone most of his football life without a serious injury.
When the odds had finally caught up with him, they’d dealt a death blow.
Vegas. Was God testing him? Was He trying to see how Sam would handle temptation now?
“You’re the next Peyton Manning. Released after an injury, you’ll take a season to recover, then come back better than ever, with a winning season and a Super Bowl ring.” Bruno knew the right song to sing, Sam had to give him that.
“Yeah, okay, I’ll think about it. I have to go. The Nashville Foundation event is tonight. You can keep me posted.”
“I need your word if I make this deal with the Raiders, you’ll give it your best.”
“I never do anything less.” How ironic. Nashville honoring him just as he might be leaving.
The city he’d poured his heart and soul into, as well as hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Apparently, football, business, and charity work were all different animals and about as compatible as kittens, hyenas, and badgers.
He reached for the phone again. He needed to let Chloe know the repairman would be there soon and to confirm the limo bringing her to his loft for the banquet tonight.
Later that afternoon, Chloe texted him from the limo that the repairman still hadn’t arrived by the time the driver picked her up. Ruby had sent her away with a promise to wait until the tech showed.
Sam pulled the dry-cleaning plastic off his tux. As he hung it in the closet, the doorbell chimed, and he hurried downstairs. Even in jeans and sneakers, Chloe took his breath away. The moment she stepped into his place, it felt warmer, homier, even classier.
He rolled the loft’s barn-style door closed behind her and took her bag. “I’ll show you around and put this in the guest room where you can get ready.” He led her down the short hallway into the open living-dining-kitchen area. The aroma of his lemon poppyseed bread baking filled the room.
“Wow.”
He looked around, seeing the place through her eyes.
An expanse of windows looked over The District and the Cumberland River, with the Titans’ stadium visible across the river.
Exposed brick walls, dark beams, a spacious kitchen with a subway tile backsplash, a long bar counter with high stools, and a wooden dining table between the counter and the living area.
A big-screen television over the electric fireplace with a couple of leather recliners.
He thought of it as masculine without being all about football or looking like a British lord’s library, which every decorator he’d consulted seemed intent on pushing.
“Do you want something to drink? I have soda and water in the fridge. Beer and wine too,” he said, moving to the kitchen. The lemon poppyseed loaf should be done. “Coffee? Are you exhausted? You’ve been up all night baking at Valentino’s, then working all day at Haven’s.”
“I grabbed a nap in the back of the limo. I’m fine.
I just want to stand here and look at your amazing view.
” She moved to the French doors, opened one and stepped out onto the balcony, as he pulled the bread from the oven and set it to cool on a rack.
“You’re a real live superstar, aren’t you?
This amazing loft, a banquet honoring you…
and I’ve got you serving coffee and crullers three afternoons a week. ”
But those afternoons were the best. He didn’t worry about the younger players wanting to knock him—literally—off the field. He didn’t think about his knee. He didn’t wonder how Chloe or Laura Kate would let him down.
“I like serving coffee,” was all he said, though.
“I should let you start getting ready.” Alone in his room, he sank on the bed.
Chloe was digging her way deeper and deeper into his heart.
He didn’t want to be without her. He changed into his tux as quickly as possible and then paced in the living room.
A soft click signaled her emergence from the room, then footsteps and a swishing sound. If she took his breath away the night of Frank’s party, the sight of Chloe Beason LaRue in his condo wearing a light pink dress that showed all her curves nearly dropped him to his knees.
“Wow.”
“Like it?” She gave a twirl and the skirt flared out. “I bought it at my favorite resale shop in the Batignolles, an area in Paris with cute and quirky shops.”
“It’s amazing.” He reached for her hand and pulled her close and pressed his lips to hers.
After a quick second, her arms wrapped around his neck and she fit against him, against his heart, like she’d been molded to him, like they were made to be together.
Heat bloomed in his chest, then spread until he feared he’d combust. He ended the kiss, placed his forehead against hers.
“I’m a goner, Chloe. I’ve never felt this for any other woman. This is love.”
She inhaled sharply and he caught her scent, fresh and sweet.
“I…I—I’m falling for you too.”
What irony! Titans say buhbye to @SamHardyQB15 hours before annual Nashville Foundation banquet honors him.
– @First&TenPodcast on Twitter
Rumblings in the Titans’ camp. Franchise QB out for the season, possible trade to Las Vegas. More on Sports Center.
– @ESPNNews on Twitter
The limo pulled into the Hotel TN’s porte cochere and Chloe squeezed Sam’s hand. She was going to a swanky event in downtown Nashville with her famous boyfriend who was being honored for his charity work.
“Pinch me,” she murmured.
“How about I kiss you instead?” He pulled her close, pressed his lips to hers.
Before she could respond, could welcome him, accept him, the chauffeur opened the door, letting in a blast of cool air.
Talk about putting a damper on things. She shivered and gathered her wrap close as she and Sam climbed out of the limo.
After that kiss and the one they’d shared earlier at his condo, she’d kind of lost interest in eating. Or going out.
As if he’d read her mind, Sam followed close and put an arm around her. “Let’s ditch this and go back to my place.”
Tempting—and she pretended to consider it before she scoffed. “You promised me a party with Buck Mathews and I’m holding you to it.”
They walked into the brightly lit lobby then followed the signs and crowd to the ballroom.
“Mr. Hardy!” someone called, and Sam guided her to a table where several young women in black skirts, white blouses, and flat shoes consulted tablets and told other uniformed staff which tables to show guests to.
“Evening, Delia.” He gave a woman with a pierced nose and a pink streak in her dark hair a quick hug. “This is Chloe. Delia’s my assistant.”
Delia flashed them a bright smile. “Follow me.” She wended her way through tables, waitstaff, and other guests to deposit them at a round table in front of the platform with the podium and microphone.
The ballroom held dozens of tables. White tablecloths, gold-rimmed plates on gold chargers, black napkins.
The centerpieces were square glass vases.
They were decorated with variously sized floating black and white balls and a candle on top.
Black, white, and gold balloons lined the walls.
Seeing Sam in his element, schmoozing Nashville movers and shakers and Titans bigwigs was a revelation.
The cocktail hour passed in a blur of names and faces.
Chloe recognized a few of each. Some of the local celebrities: a combination of politicians, music royalty, and other sports superstars.
Thank goodness Buck and JoJo Mathews were there.
At least she knew people at the party other than just Sam.
Sam did his best to keep her close by, but every so often someone would insert themselves between her and Sam and she’d find herself feeling alone and chilly.
Then JoJo would turn up, pull her to their table, and hand her a glass of wine. “You’ll get used to it.”
Chloe shook her head. “Strangers thinking they know your boyfriend? I doubt it.”
“Imagine it’s your husband singing love songs and women believing he’s singing to them.”
Chloe stared at JoJo. “You’re kidding.” Because that wasn’t weird. At all.
“It used to freak me out. Buck had to keep reminding me that he chose me.” JoJo smiled, her gaze softening. “Like Sam chose you.”
Did he choose her? Guess he did. She was chosen. His kisses left no doubt in her mind about that. The man was all in. But was she?
“Sorry about that.” Sam appeared at her side and put a hand on the small of her back. Tingles darted to her neck. “It won’t happen again.”
They sat and an odd feeling came over her, raising goosebumps on her arms. She glanced around. Was there a draft? Then she saw a blonde woman at a table across from them. If she could shoot daggers with her eyes, Chloe would be impaled to her chair.
She leaned close to Sam. “Who’s the blonde?” She tipped her head toward the other table.
Sam looked where she indicated.
The woman in a tight red dress glared at them.
“I don’t—wait…”
Chloe looked from the angry blonde back to Sam. “Your number one fan?”
“Not exactly.” He turned in his chair, so his side was to the blonde and he faced Chloe. “Curvy Carla.” He tipped Chloe’s chin up, brushed his lips across hers. “Remember, your classy presence is supposed to discourage her. Permanently.”
“Mm hmm. I like the sound of that.”
Dinner was served and they sat next to the mayor of Nashville and her husband on one side and on the other was a duo who’d recently been inducted into the Grand Ole Opry.
Together, they wore enough sequins to cover an entire wedding party.
They’re ordinary people, Chloe told herself.
They have friends who’ve known them since they were fifteen, who they did crazy stunts with, who knew all of their secrets.
Everyone was the same underneath—full of insecurities.
Except for Sam, apparently. She watched with awe during the ceremony as he swaggered with his limp across the stage to accept his award.
He spoke eloquently and with passion about his foundation.
About giving kids in underserved neighborhoods more opportunities for jobs, scholarships, and access to sports equipment.
He talked about how he’d had a lot of advantages growing up: a family who could afford camps and coaching and cleats.
How he’d worked hard, but he’d been given a head start that a lot of other gifted athletes didn’t get.
After the speeches and awards, emceed by a popular game show host from Los Angeles, a band tuned up and launched into “Just in Time.” Sam pulled her chair out. “May I have the pleasure?” He led her to the dance floor, slipped his arm around her, and took her hand in his.
She sighed with contentment. “Does this evening have to end?”
“No,” he said. “And neither do we.”