The Game of Love: (BWWM Romance)

by K. Alex Walker

  “I knew it,” he replied. “Now tell that to Ma and Arielle. How is she by the way? Your mother?”

  The smile slowly faded from Sommer’s face. “Not too good. Her cancer came back so Uncle Reese and I have been taking turns driving her to chemo. The doctor said that it’s more aggressive this time, so right now we’re at the wait and see stage.”

  Austin started to touch her hand, but then realized that they hadn’t seen each other in ten years, and he had no idea if she still held the same ill feelings towards him that she had back then.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he offered instead. “It must be really hard on you right now to go through something like that.”

  She half-smiled. “I’m managing. But enough about me. Tell me about your exciting career as one of the top quarterbacks in the league.”

  He was surprised to find that he was actually embarrassed. “It’s really not all that. I mean, I’m doing what I love and that’s the best part of it.”

  “No championship this year, though?”

  He slowly shook his head. “Close, but no cigar. But we’ve made the postseason for the past three years, so I feel like we have a sure shot at the championship this year. I can taste it.”

  Sommer’s brows mischievously came together. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted Championship before. What does it taste like?”

  He smacked his lips a few times. “A little like blueberries…with a hint of vanilla.”

  “But no pineapples?”

  His eyes briefly went to the floor. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

  “Never. It’s actually my fondest memory of you. Tears streaming down your face and that shocked and slightly embarrassed look in your eyes. I mean, at that age, all I could remember was that you ruined my shirt. But, as I got older, the main thing I began to remember was the sadness in those freakish golden eyes of yours. You, your mother, and your sister still have the only true amber eyes I’ve ever seen.”

  Again, Austin surprised himself by blushing. It had been years since he last had a reason to be embarrassed and in a couple of minutes, Sommer had managed to turn his olive skin to red in the face twice.

  “You know, I never did apologize for that,” he told her. “So, I just want to say that I’m sorry that I blew chunks on you.”

  She giggled and lowered her eyes. “Austin, even if your stay is just a short one, I’m glad you took some time out to come back home.”

  He paused before responding, waiting until she looked up at him.

  “You’re the first person to officially welcome me, Sommer, and I’m glad that it was you. We haven’t seen each other in ages, and I’m glad that we can finally have a conversation without getting into fisticuffs.”

  She lowered her eyes again, and they both stood in a few moments of silence. Then, her head popped up, and a breeze gently played with her black, thick, naturally curly hair before her eyes landed on him once more. “I hope to see you around, Austin. It was nice running into you. Tell Ms. Emma that I said hello.”

  With that, she spun around and walked off in the opposite direction, her stride just as lively and bouncy as her personality. Austin’s eyes then traveled down over her curvy hips and lingered on the way her legs filled out the black leggings that she wore.

  “Sommer’s looking good these days,” his mother mumbled, surprising him. She handed him the basket now filled to capacity with an assortment of fresh fruits and vegetables. “You know, ever since Caroline’s cancer returned, she’s been on her own a lot and more sad than usual. Think maybe an old friend could help to cheer her up?”

  He looked down at his mother, and she winked at him before hooking her elbow through his and pulling him the direction of a sign that read “Home Grown Tomatoes.”

  Chapter Two

  “Mom, sit down,” Sommer pleaded as her mother flitted around the kitchen with a bright pink cotton bandana wrapped around her head.

  “Sommer,” Caroline Hayes groaned, searching around for her missing frosting bag. Spotting its metal tip sticking out from behind a breadbasket, she grabbed it and returned to finishing the coconut cake Dawn Robins had requested to celebrate Eleanor Talbot’s retirement from the town’s Parks and Recreation Department.

  “You’re doing too much,” Sommer continued, following her mother around the bakery’s kitchen and backroom. She reached for the frosting bag. “I can do that.”

  Caroline moved the bag out of Sommer’s reach. “Sommer, please let me do my job.”

  “I am, Mom, but you’re doing your job and then some. I finished the chocolate chip cookies for the kindergarten recital over at Oak Park, even the gluten free ones, and I just put the focaccia bread in the oven. The lunch rush won’t be here for another couple of hours. I can handle more than you can right now.”

  Caroline paused, closed her eyes, and said a small prayer under her breath. Sommer was driving her crazy. And it wasn’t only Sommer, but also her brother Reese and his fiancée Marcie, who both worked with them in the bakery. If they weren’t trying to take things out of her hands, they were offering to take over every single task that she attempted to complete. What they didn’t seem to understand, however, was that the café was her life. It was going to take more than her cancer coming out of remission to knock her on her ass, lazing away the days until she either beat it again or died.

  The café had been there to see her through her marriage to Sommer’s father at the age of seventeen, the deaths of both sets of their parents, her initial cancer diagnosis, and her subsequent divorce a few years after that. Forty years of her life had gone to the café. Working helped her feel normal. Other than her daughter, that sense of normalcy was the only thing that kept her going each day.

  “I’m upsetting you, aren’t I?” Sommer asked, noticing her mother’s change in demeanor.

  “Yes, you are,” Caroline honestly answered. “I don’t ask you for much, Sommer, but please let me do this. You, Reese, and Marcie tripping over yourselves to make things easier on me is appreciated, but I love working. And doing what I love is helpful.”

  Her gaze met her daughter’s concerned brown eyes.

  “Is that okay?”

  Sommer let her shoulders drop. “Okay, Mom, but promise me that if you need anything, you’ll ask.”

  Caroline reached for Sommer’s hand and hooked their pinkies. “You have my word.”

  Defeated, Sommer walked to the front of the shop where Marcie was handing a small, white pastry box to Trudy McMillan. Without opening the box, Sommer could guess that the woman had ordered a banana nut muffin for herself, and a crème-filled vanilla cupcake for her granddaughter, Elise. It was the same thing she always ordered the first weekend of the month when Elise came to visit from Durham.

  “Chin up, Sommer,” Marcie teased. “Your mother’s a headstrong woman, you know that.”

  Sommer waved and smiled as Trudy exited. “Oh, I know. I can be the same way. I just can’t help feeling like I could do more for her. It’s driving me crazy sitting here watching her…,” she lowered her voice, “…waste away. She’s lost close to twenty pounds, yet acts as though nothing has changed.”

  Marcie wrapped her arm around Sommer’s waist and gave her a quick hug. “You’re a good daughter, Sommer, but maybe you should let your mother do things her own way. If it’s one thing I know about Caroline, it’s that she always asks for help when she needs it. One time, in 2003, she asked me to run out and get some parchment paper. She’d really needed it.”

  Sommer chuckled and gave her a playful shove. “She’ll ask for help when she thinks she needs it, which isn’t always when she actually does.”

  Marcie gave her another hug and Sommer moved to clean-up the trash the guests left behind on their tables. As the bells on the front door chimed, she expected to see Timothy Dugan, the elementary school’s secretary, dropping in to pick up the cookie order. Instead, she looked directly into Austin’s glittering orbs. He was dressed in a casual brown
button-down and jeans, looking more like a Mediterranean male model with his dark hair, light eyes, and olive skin, than a professional football player. He was holding a gift bag in his left hand.

  “Oh, my word. Is that Austin Riley?” Marcie cried, making her way from behind the counter to wrap her arms around him. He bent for her to reach his neck, and she planted a loud smack on his cheek before holding him at arm’s length. “Sweetheart, we haven’t seen you in…,” she turned to Sommer, “How long has it been since you all left high school, Sommer?”

  “Ten years,” Sommer answered, tossing out a paper carton and wiping down the table.

  “A whole decade? You have grown into quite the handsome man, Austin.” She glanced down at his bare left ring finger. “I can bet the ladies are always knocking down your door, aren’t they?”

  Sommer let out a sound that was a mix between a snort and a laugh.

  “They come knocking, but I only let the special ones in,” Austin replied, sending a look Sommer’s way.

  Marcie unabashedly began to poke her hand inside the gift bag. “Did you bring me something?”

  “I promise I’ll bring you something next time, Marcie,” he said, tucking the bag behind his back. “This is actually for Sommer.”

  Sommer’s head popped up. “For me?”

  “Yes, for you.” He thrust the bag toward her. She left the wet cloth on the tabletop and slowly walked over. When she was close enough to grab it, he pulled it back.

  “On one condition. Come outside with me.”

  Sommer’s gaze went to Marcie, and then to the café’s backroom. “I don’t know, Austin. The lunch rush is going to start soon, and I have to help my Mom and Uncle Reese in the kitchen.”

  Marcie, still bubbling with excitement, shook her head. “We’re hours away from the lunch rush, Austin. Actually, we just finished the breakfast crowd not too long ago.” She gently shoved Sommer in the lower back. “Go on, girl.”

  Reluctantly, Sommer followed him outside, and they took a seat in one of the fancy metal bistro tables that had been installed for outdoor dining. Austin pulled out Sommer’s chair before taking the seat across from her, and then placed the bag on the table.

  “Open it.”

  She suspiciously eyed the bag. “What’s in it?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  She reached for the bag, and he eagerly watched as she pushed the tissue paper aside.

  From underneath, Sommer pulled out a stunning silk, royal blue dress. Digging through more paper, she found a pair of gorgeous nude pumps.

  Gorgeous and expensive.

  “I don’t get it?” she half-stated, half-asked. “You bought these for me?”

  He nodded. “I bought them, but Ma picked them out after asking Marcie your size.”

  “But…why?” She fingered the soft fabric of the dress.

  “Just because,” he answered, shrugging. “It was nice seeing you the other day, and I felt like doing something nice for you.”

  Understanding, Sommer placed the shoes and dress back into the bag. Austin had probably felt bad that she was going through a “difficult time” in her life and thought that a pretty dress and new shoes would make her feel better. If he really thought that was going to work, then he’d been dating supermodels for way too long.

  “I get it, Austin. Because my Mom’s sick. You don’t have to buy me anything to cheer me up.”

  “Sommer, it’s not like that.”

  All of a sudden embarrassed, she stood to leave the table, but he rose and grabbed her hand. “Sommer, it’s not like that,” he repeated, wrapping his hand around her fingers and pulling her back towards the table.

  “Then why buy a gift for someone you haven’t seen in ten years? Not to mention it’s the same someone with which you had quite a longstanding rivalry.”

  When he smiled, she felt her stomach uncontrollably flutter at the way the corners of his eyes lightly wrinkled and the gold flecks in his eyes shimmered.

  “You didn’t let me finish,” he gently accused.

  She pulled her hand from his and folded her arms across her chest. Then, realizing that her stance was too defensive, stuffed her hands into her back pockets.

  “All the time we spent being enemies, Sommer, we could have been building a pretty tight friendship,” he explained. “That’s what I’m trying to do now, but I don’t have another twenty-eight years to try to get it right. I have seven weeks before I have to fly back to Texas, so I figured that if I want to get on your good side, I have to start now. Hence the dress, the shoes, and an invitation.”

  Her ears twitched. “An invitation? To where?”

  “Dinner and a wine tasting. Tonight, if you’re free. Tomorrow night, if you’re not.”

  Sommer bit her bottom lip and eyed the bag.

  “You can’t say no to good food, good wine, and good company,” Austin pressed. “And I know you like food. Remember in elementary school when everybody used to call you Sommer, spring, fall and winter?”

  A smile peeked from the corner of her mouth. “They did not. I wasn’t that chubby in elementary school.”

  Austin chuckled and defensively put his hands up in front of him. “I know, I know. I’m just kidding. You were beautiful.”

  Her face warmed at the compliment.

  “You think you’re charming, don’t you?”

  “A little,” he answered with a shrug.

  She grabbed the bag and held it against her side. “I’m free tomorrow.”

  “It’s a date then,” he confirmed. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Ma told me that you moved back in with your Mom?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, to help her out. Do you remember where it is?”

  “1313 Cherry Avenue.”

  “Right.”

  Austin waited until she was inside the café before he moved back towards the car—the 5-series BMW he’d bought as a present for his mother that she still didn’t feel comfortable driving around town. As he pulled on the door handle, he noticed that Sommer was running after him.

  “Everything okay?” he asked.

  “Everything’s fine. I just forgot to say thank you. For the gifts. They’re beautiful. I really appreciate them.”

  He smiled, feeling triumphant. “You’re welcome, Sommer.”

  Then she walked back to the shop, turning around to wave when she reached the door. When she finally disappeared from sight, Austin pulled out of the parking lot and sped down the street.

  *****

  Austin wasn’t quite sure what he was getting himself into. He’d been honest when he told Sommer that he was interested in taking her out to work on their friendship, but in the back of his mind, he knew that there’d been something more.

  As she sat across from him underneath the diffused chandelier lighting of the old winery, the royal blue of the dress radiating perfectly against her dulcet brown skin, he realized that the feelings that he’d had for her were still just as strong. And they were making it difficult to get through the night without wanting to reach out and touch her in some way.

  “Up next, we have our signature blackberry wine,” a slender man with salt and pepper hair announced at front of the room. “As you will see, it is a favorite among many.”

  Austin reached across the table to touch the back of Sommer’s hand, but she turned to face him before his fingers had a chance to graze her skin.

  “Are you having a good time?” he asked, scanning her face to read her expression.

  “I am,” she replied with a slight smile. “Thanks, again. It’s been a while since I’ve had a night out like this.”

  They both leaned back as the dark liquid was poured into their glasses.

  “What are you usually doing on a Saturday night?”

  As far as his mother had told him, Sommer wasn’t dating anyone around town. Of course, his mother volunteered this information without him asking.

  “Taking care of Mom,” she answered, taking a whiff of the cont
ents of her glass.

  “You don’t go out with girlfriends? Maybe a boyfriend?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “Real smooth, Riley. Who’s asking if I’m dating someone, Ms. Emma? Because both our mothers went through a phase where all they did was try to play matchmaker.”

  Austin laughed. “She does that to you too? I think she believes that she has a special gift because she set up Arielle and Justin.”

  Sommer laughed along with him. “How are they by the way? Your sister and her husband? I heard that they were on kid number three?”

  Sommer thought that Justin and Arielle had the most beautiful children. With their mocha skin and thick, curly manes, they were a beautiful mixture of Arielle’s Italian and Justin’s African American heritage.

  “Four. They’re having twins. A boy and a girl. I told them to name the boy after me, but then Arielle said that only made her afraid that he’d grow up to be like me.”

  “That was smart on her part,” Sommer said with a nod. “The last thing that this world needs is another Austin Riley running around wreaking havoc.”

  Austin’s mind briefly wandered to a time when he’d seriously considered having children with Jessica. Surprisingly, she’d wanted children also, but finding out about her cocaine habit had put those dreams on the back burner.

  “I wasn’t that bad,” he argued.

  “Austin…,” Sommer began with an incredulous hint to her voice, “…did you or did you not put a dress, hat, and lipstick on Tara Hannaway’s Arabian when we were twelve? And was this not the same dress that she’d been planning to wear to the homecoming dance?”