SAM: A Best Friend's Sister Sweet Romantic Comedy (Waco Wranglers Reid Brothers Book 3)

by Heather Horrocks

  Even his cousin, Noah Reid Kapuni Sullivan — former running back for the Waco Wranglers and current action movie star — was in town and had come over with his wife, Emma Archer, who’d grown up here in Waco next door to Noah. Her brother had created a production company with Noah. He’d heard rumors that Emma’s Chihuahua, Xena, still harried Noah’s boxer, Chief. Noah’s Hawaiian father had added extra muscles to the Reid gene pool, making Noah bigger than even his cousins, and that was saying something.

  Bobby, the youngest and playing football for the university in town, was there without a girl. At twenty-two, he was a senior, looking forward to being drafted to the Wranglers.

  His brother, Frank, a Wrangler player known as Frankenstein on the field, and his sister, Katie, had other plans for the evening, though.

  Knox stood. “We have some news for you.”

  “Good, I hope,” their father called out.

  “Very good,” Knox said, and held out his hand to Amy, who stood beside him, smiling up at him. “We’re expecting a baby.”

  “Oh, my gosh!” their mother cried out, and put her fingers to her lips, overcome with emotion. “When did you find out?”

  Knox put an arm around his wife. “Amy told me while we were in Italy.”

  “Boy or girl?” Noah asked, taking the hand of his wife, Emma.

  Sam’s oldest brother, Daniel, had children, but those announcements had come at a time when Sam wasn’t wishing so fervently for a family of his own.

  Daniel, who was doing so much better since his therapy, would never play on a football field again. Maybe it shouldn’t bother Sam that he now had the quarterback slot only because his brother got a concussion, but it did. It had been over a year, and he wondered if that guilt would ever go away.

  But he couldn’t dwell there, because Knox’s announcement had slammed into him like a pile-driver, especially since Sam wasn’t even dating anyone. At most, he was pretending to romance his realtor. How pathetic was that?

  Thinking about Savannah made his heart ache. Did he want her, specifically? Or a wife and family in general? Was he projecting onto her his dreams of family? Or could she really be someone he might want to spend his life with? It was probably too early to tell, but he knew he was smitten with her. She was about all he thought of at the moment.

  “Sam?” his mother said.

  He shook off his thoughts. “Yes, ma’am?”

  “We’ve asked you three times what you think of the news.”

  He forced a grin. “I think it’s great! Congratulations, you two!”

  And it was great. The strength of his reaction had just surprised him.

  Dinner with Savannah’s parents was always tumultuous. They were passionate people and loved to debate issues. They especially loved to run the lives of their two children. They were also two of the people she loved best in the world. Three counting Zeke.

  “Zeke, please pass the rolls,” their mother said.

  She was sort of a health nut and all that healthy eating paid off for her.

  The vegan lifestyle was too restrictive for Savannah, but she had to admit her mother could make a vegan meal feel like a cornucopia-of-vegetables feast. Savannah would be bringing a turkey to their Thanksgiving meal this year, though, or maybe she could talk Zeke into bringing one. He was a definite carnivore.

  When Zeke passed the rolls, their mother took one and passed the basket to Savannah., who said, “I love your rolls, Mom.”

  Conversation lagged for a few minutes as they ate.

  “So how did the showing go today?” her father asked.

  “I thought he was going to buy the Benson property on the spot. It seemed perfect and I thought it was my lucky day.” She paused. It had been her lucky day. After all, she’d had a lot of fun spending time with Sam.

  “But...?” prompted her father.

  “But then he decided he wanted a pool, too.”

  Her father grinned. “There’s a new listing that might be perfect for him, then. It’s not even going live until tomorrow morning so you can be the first broker on the job.”

  Savannah studied him. “Well...?”

  Zeke poked her arm. “He’s going to make you wait. You know how he is.”

  She did, indeed. Her father loved to tease them. “Which property is it, Dad?” she asked patiently.

  “The property belongs to Virginia Wainwright,” he said. “Horse property, pool. It’s got everything.”

  Zeke whistled. Virginia Wainwright was the widow of Henry Wainwright, the owner of a prominent business who’d passed away the year before. It had been in all the news. “That’s a sweet place. He had some of us players out there for a party a few years ago.”

  Savannah tipped her head. “It’s perfect, huh?”

  Zeke nodded. “It is. Maybe I’ll sell my place and—”

  She punched him lightly on the arm. “No, you won’t. This will be my first sale.”

  “I’d pay for it,” he protested.

  “You bet you would,” she said.

  “Children,” their father said. They turned to him. He shook his head and sighed. “Behave.”

  Her mother looked thoughtful. “Virginia’s difficult to work with, so it might be a challenge.”

  “What do you mean by difficult?” Savannah asked.

  Her father said, “She’s been known to give random psychic readings.”

  “Weird,” Savannah said.

  “She has lots of rules,” her mother added, “and, if you don’t follow them, she won’t sell to you. She did it with the sale of her husband’s business last year.”

  Their father shrugged. “Good thing Savannah can sweet-talk anyone.”

  “And if I can’t, Sam certainly can,” Savannah said.

  Zeke turned slowly to face her, his narrowed eyes not a good sign. “Are you dating Sam?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m selling him a home, I hope.”

  “Has he asked you out?” her brother pushed.

  “He seems kind of interested but, no, he hasn’t asked me out. At this point in time, we’re just friends.”

  “He seems interested? I told him to stay away from you.”

  “Why would you do that?” she demanded. “I’m an adult and can make these decisions for myself.”

  “Because you’re my little sister and I’m taking care of you.”

  “We’re just friends,” she insisted.

  “No, Sam and I are friends.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I think Sam’s sister, Katie, is cute, but I’m not going to ask her out. And I don’t spend time with her alone, either.”

  “Did you miss the part about he hasn’t asked me out? I’m just trying to sell him a house.” She glared at her brother. “Back off, Zeke. If I’d known living with you was going to make you think you had the right to run my life, I’d have stayed with Mom and Dad to start with.”

  Her mother beamed. “You are always welcome home, sweetie.”

  Zeke smiled, knowing the same thing Savannah did — her parents would run her life even more than he did.

  There was no winning in this family. She supposed she’d just have to make a success at the real estate business so she could afford to get out on her own as quickly as possible.

  And selling Sam the Wainwright property would earn her a fat commission that could allow her to do exactly that.

  6

  What’s Not to Like?

  “It looks nice,” Sam said, admiringly, as he stared at the Wainwright house from her red Camry.

  Savannah agreed. Her parents had been right in recommending this property. “It does.”

  They climbed out of the car and pulled on light jackets for the February mid-sixty’s temperature. They stood, studying the front of the house. Sam waved a hand. “I like how the front porch wraps all the way around.”

  “It is a nice cozy touch, isn’t it?” Savannah liked it, too. “Let’s go take a look inside.”

  “All right.” Sa
m glanced at her and grinned.

  That grin ought to come with a warning label. Her face flushed warm and she stepped out in front of him so he wouldn’t see it. She could hear the crunching of gravel under his boots.

  A woman opened the front door and held it, stepped onto the shaded porch, and waved. In her seventies, her long white hair was pulled back in a braid down her back, and she was dressed in a plaid shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. “Have you come to look at the house?”

  “We have,” Savannah said. “My parents made the arrangements. Don and Candace Jackson.”

  “Oh, yes. They called. Come on up.”

  They took the four steps. The porch was really nice, with several arrangements of chairs making for inviting places to sit a spell.

  “Mrs. Wainwright, I’m Savannah Jackson and this is my friend, Sam Reid.”

  The older woman narrowed her eyes and studied him. “Don’t you play for the Wranglers?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I do.”

  “Well, make sure our team wins this year.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll do my best to make that happen, ma’am.”

  Virginia nodded and turned her attention to the property. Motioning at the grounds, she said, “My husband liked horses, so there’s a barn and pastures. I like to swim, so we have a pool. And there is plenty of space for children.” She tipped her head. “You do intend to have children, don’t you?” she asked Sam.

  He raised an eyebrow and said, “Yes, ma’am. I do.”

  “Good. I want the new owners of this house to be as happy here as my Henry and I always were.”

  She paused again. “I need to make it clear that I will be staying in the house for another month or two, until my new home being built is complete. That will need to be in the contract, and I’ll pay you rent for that time.”

  He shrugged. “Okay.”

  She opened the door. “Come on in.”

  Sam exchanged a glance with Savannah. She smiled at him. He motioned for her to go through first and he held the door open for her. He took off his cowboy hat as he stepped inside.

  In this living space, the woodwork was amazing. Joanna Gaines would have loved the shiplap on the walls. The ceilings soared majestically high. Woodwork outlined the large windows and doors. The gleaming wood made the spaces look cozy while being spacious. Comfortable.

  Virginia said, “Now, this space is right homey, wouldn’t you say?”

  Sam nodded. “It is that.”

  Savannah enjoyed the sight of him in his cowboy duds — nearly a matching outfit to what the older woman wore, only a much more manly version. He looked good in jeans and his arms totally filled out that flannel shirt.

  Concentrate, she told herself. She was here to sell a house and earn a hefty commission, not fawn over the good-looking man.

  Even when the good-looking guy was staring at her as if she were an ice cream cone on a hot day.

  “Come this way. I’ll give you a tour.” Virginia led them to another room. “You know, I get feelings about people. I used to charge for psychic readings, but now I just do them for fun. I could read your future, young man.”

  “I appreciate that, ma’am,” Sam said, looking a little uncomfortable. “But I’m a little afraid to look into anyone’s future, especially my own.”

  The old woman shrugged. “It could tell you how happy you’ll be with your girlfriend here.”

  Savannah’s eyes widened, but Sam said, “I’m sure we’ll be very happy. Who wouldn’t be happy with someone as beautiful as Savannah?”

  Virginia sighed. “It’s good to hear you’re dating.”

  She looked at Savannah, as if for confirmation.

  Thoughts raced through Savannah’s mind in a mere second: What should she do? She wasn’t really dating Sam; in fact, her brother had told her not to date him. But she was definitely attracted and she thought he was, too. What could she say that would be true, but still let Virginia think there might be a possibility of a relationship? Savannah forced a smile. “Well, we did go to lunch yesterday.”

  “I knew it,” Victoria said. “And it’s good. Because I only want to sell my house to someone who’s going to be as happy as Henry and me,” she repeated.

  “Where are you going to be moving, ma’am?” Sam asked.

  Virginia said, “I’m moving in with my son and his wife. Well, not in with them, but on their property. They’ve cleaned out a spot where my tiny home is being built. I’ll still have my horse in their pasture and my independence, but I’ll be close enough by they can take care of me when I need it.”

  “That sounds right nice,” Sam said.

  Virginia grinned. “And Bonnie will be doing most of the cooking so I won’t have to do that anymore.”

  Sam chuckled. “Good plan.”

  “And you play football,” she said to Sam.

  “Yes, ma’am, I do.”

  “I’m not sure I want to sell to a football player.” The old woman was a canny negotiator. Savannah had to suppress a laugh when Virginia continued. “In fact, I have two other couples looking at my house.”

  Which Savannah knew wasn’t true, because her parents had barely opened up the listing this morning just before she’d brought Sam out here. She smiled innocently. “It is a lovely property. I’m sure you’ll have lots of interest.”

  Sam looked at her. “I thought you were on my side.”

  This time, Savannah did laugh. “I am.”

  “I’ll make a better offer than I originally planned,” Sam said.

  Virginia paused and considered his words. “Come back next week, next Wednesday, at lunch time. I’ll fix you and your lady friend here some lunch. We’ll talk more about the property then.”

  “All right,” Savannah said. Her parents had been right. Virginia Wainwright was difficult to work with, but she liked the older woman.

  An hour later, Sam was convinced that this property really was perfect for him. But how could he possibly tell Savannah that? If he did, it would end his house search and they wouldn’t be spending time together. Zeke was already giving them grief about house hunting.

  But how could he pass up this house?

  It had everything the previous property had — plus a pool. A barn and pastures. A roomy back yard complete with tire swing. The wraparound porch.

  Not only that, but Savannah really liked it. That shouldn’t matter to him, but it did. He’d seen her admiring looks, especially in the totally upgraded kitchen and the front porch. He could picture her in this house — and, apparently, so could she.

  The two women had gone back onto the front porch, while he’d asked if he could continue looking inside.

  He wandered back into the home theater. This would be a lot of fun. Zeke had one, and they loved playing video games there, as well as watching movies. Also watching game reels to improve their playing.

  He walked through the house, heading for the front porch where the women were.

  This place checked off all of the wants on his list, plus maybe a few he hadn’t thought of yet. Mr. Wainwright had kept everything up and had upgraded the house and property.

  He reached the front door and took one last look around. He liked this place.

  As he opened the door and stepped onto the porch, the two women turned their heads toward him. They were seated in two of the cushioned wicker chairs, their jackets tight about them.

  He caught Savannah’s gaze. Apparently, she’d caught his admiration of the home because she smiled and mouthed, This one?

  Mrs. Wainwright said, “You like it, right?”

  “What’s not to like?” Sam said with a grin. “Though I still need to see the barn and outbuildings.”

  Savannah barely shook her head at him. Oops. He’d been too enthusiastic, perhaps, for the perfect negotiation. But he meant it. What wasn’t to like?

  7

  Only the Normal Fear

  Two days later, Savannah sat at her desk working on closing documents on a deal her fath
er had passed off to her.

  When the door opened, she startled. “Oh, it’s just you.”

  “Thanks a lot, sis,” Zeke said, flopping into the chair on the other side of the desk. She shook her head. Football players and their huge bodies. He filled the chair, and the room, much as Sam did when he was here.

  “Come on in, Bro,” Savannah said, a touch of sarcasm in her tone. “Make yourself right at home.”

  “Why, thanks, I think I will.”

  “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you had some sort of football charity thing.”

  “It’s tonight.” Zeke grinned. “I came to take you to lunch.”

  She glanced at the clock. “It’s an hour past lunch time.”

  “I know, and I also know you well enough to know that you haven’t eaten anything yet except one of your little homemade energy bars.”

  “Guilty as charged.” She chuckled. “Where are you going to take me? It had better be a really nice place.”

  “Is Moroso’s nice enough?”

  She rose and grabbed her purse. “Does that answer your question?”

  Moroso Wood Fired Pizzeria’s menu included a variety of pizzas and other Italian dishes and you couldn’t have a better Italian meal in Waco.

  They were open from eleven to two and then again from five to nine. Thank goodness he’d come in when he had. They would just make it.

  He stood. “Yup. Let’s go.”

  Fifteen minutes later, he pulled his snazzy red Corvette into the parking lot.

  As she got out, she studied his sports car. Teasing, she said, “Dude, this is such a cliché. You’re a decade away from middle-aged, bro.”

  He looked affronted. “I’m not even thirty.”

  “See? You’re early to the crisis.”