by Sarah Smith
Rose smiled at her. “I know you don’t know me, but I know exactly what you’re going through. It’s hard to be a WAG.”
“WAG? What does that mean?”
“Oh, it’s just a term some moron made up for the wife or girlfriend of a professional ball player. Doesn’t matter what sport.” Rose waved her hand as if it was completely unimportant. “It took some time for me to get used to it too.”
“Used to what?”
Rose looked around. “Why don’t we go sit on that bench and talk?”
Lindsay frowned and allowed herself to be led to the bench. She sat down slowly, looking at Rose as if she expected the woman to sprout horns. On closer inspection, Lindsay saw that she actually was quite beautiful. Her eyes were baby blue. Her skin was tanned to perfection, and her perfectly coiffed blonde hair was long and luxurious. A pang of jealousy pushed into her heart, but she pushed it down. This woman was being incredibly nice to her, trying to help her. She griped at herself for being so judgmental.
“First of all, the pictures the paparazzi took of you are fabulous. They almost look posed!” Rose exclaimed. “You’re lucky in that respect.”
“Lucky?” Lindsay asked, amazed. “I lost my job because of those pictures!”
“Honey, did you think a man as famous as Samwell can elude the press when he’s on a date?” Rose asked, amused by her reaction.
“I didn’t know who he was when I agreed to go out with him.” Rose’s face registered shock, then she laughed so hard Lindsay wondered how she was breathing. “Why is that so funny?”
“You really didn’t know who he was?”
“I don’t watch football. Or much TV.” Lindsay defended herself, but she sounded lame and she knew it. “Regardless, he should have told me who he was.”
Rose nodded. “Yes, I agree. But are you glad you went out with him?”
“Um,” Lindsay murmured. She looked away, and Rose pounced.
“You are. And you like him, too. I can tell,” Rose said, pointing a finger at her and winking.
Lindsay laughed, almost a sigh. “You’re very perceptive, Rose.”
Rose shrugged. “It’s a gift.” She shifted closer to Lindsay and put a manicured hand on her thigh. “Listen, Tim told me Samwell mentioned you while they were working out yesterday. That’s a big deal.”
“He mentioned me? To his friends?”
“Yes,” Rose said with a smile. “He likes you. And when he finds out about this job, he’ll probably feel like dirt.”
Lindsay smiled. “Thanks for talking to me. I needed it.” She looked down and asked, “So being a WAG isn’t too bad?”
“Well, it has its drawbacks, like anything. But overall, if you care for him and he cares for you, everything else seems inconsequential.”
“Lindsay!” Samwell’s voice lifted above the traffic noise. He jogged over to her and Rose, smiling. Tim followed close behind. Lindsay rose when he reached her, and he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “What are you doing here?”
“I needed to talk to you. I met Rose when I was on the way in,” Lindsay said, gesturing to Rose.
Rose smiled as Samwell leaned in a kissed her cheek as well. “Hello, Samwell.”
Tim reached them at that moment. “Samwell, back off my chick.” He kissed Rose on the lips. “Hey, babe.”
“Hi, Tim, you big old dork,” Rose said, patting his cheek affectionately. She looked at Lindsay. “Lindsay, this is my boyfriend, Tim. Tim, Lindsay.”
“Ah, Lindsay. I’ve heard about you.” Tim shook her hand and winked at Samwell. “She is pretty, Graffton. Better grab on and hold tight.”
“Oh, I intend to,” Samwell said, moving in to wrap an arm around Lindsay.
Rose grabbed Tim’s hand and began dragging him away. “Come on, babe. I’m starved. And those two need to chat.” The couple waved good bye.
Samwell gestured to the bench, and they sat down together. “So, what’s up, beautiful?”
“I lost my job at the Kingfish Club.”
His eyes widened. He put his arm around her again and held her close. “I’m so sorry. Did you tell them I wouldn’t be returning now that we are dating?”
“I did, but it didn’t matter.” Lindsay sighed and waved her hand. “You know, it’s not a big deal. I’ll just find another job.”
“But you have a job,” Samwell said. “You’re a teacher.”
She smiled at him and patted his cheek. “I am, and get paid nothing to be one. The second job was a necessity, not a choice.”
Samwell frowned. He hadn’t known that. He’d thought she was a baseball fan and enjoyed working at the club as a fun part-time job. “I feel so guilty. I should have told you who I was.”
Lindsay nodded. “Yes, that would have been nice. But I might not have gone out with you if you had, and I’m so glad I did.”
He smiled down at her. “I’m glad you did, too. Because I have to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I really like you. I know we’ve been on one date, but we’ve known each other for several months. I want to know you better. And I want to do it by dating you and only you.”
“Wow. Um, I don’t really know what to say. I mean, yeah, we have known each other for months, but we don’t know each other well.”
“Listen, why don’t we go to dinner tonight? You’re free now,” he said teasingly, eliciting a tentative smile from her. “We can talk more about this then.”
“That sounds good.” Lindsay smiled up at him. “You know, though, I’m perfectly content to sit here for a bit, if you don’t have anything to do.”
Samwell hugged her close, resting his head on the top of hers. “I’m down for that, but no serious talk. Let’s just enjoy each other.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, enjoying a cool breeze and birds chirping in the tree shading them from the afternoon sun. A car sped by, jarring them with the horn’s obnoxious beeping.
“Hey Samwell! Who’s the hottie?” A young man had his head hanging out the window and was making obscene gestures at the couple, laughing his head off as the driver sped away.
Lindsay lifted an eyebrow and looked at Samwell. “Friends of yours?”
“Teammates.” Samwell shook his head. “They’re such idiots.”
“How about we go? I need to get ready for tonight anyway.” He laughed and helped her to her feet. Hand in hand, they walked to her car.
CHAPTER EIGHT
“I made reservations at Casa Tua. I hope you like Italian?” Samwell smiled at her and reached for her hand. His other was on the steering wheel as he drove towards downtown. “Since we’ll be downtown, we can wonder around and check out some of the shops.”
“That sounds fun,” Lindsay said. “And I love Italian! I’ve never been to Casa Tua.”
Samwell had told her where they were going, so she’d done a little research. The prices weren’t listed on the menu, telling Lindsay the restaurant/hotel would be expensive. The photos of the restaurant were enchanting, though, and Lindsay couldn’t wait to see the inside. She’d dressed in her best, most expensive dress, a lovely navy number she’d had to buy for a wedding she’d been in. The dress, truly the only bridesmaid’s dress she’d worn that she could reuse, was short, had a low, square neckline, and fit tightly, revealing curves she normally hid a little better. Her hair was in an up-do with tendrils hanging daintily around her face, and the smoky eyes perfected by Abbie’s hand drew others’ eyes to her face immediately.
When she’d opened the door to let Samwell in, his eyes had popped out of his head. He had whistled lowly, his eyes raking her frame from her matching heels to her perfectly coiffed hair.
Never one to arrive empty handed, Samwell had passed her a small box wrapped with a pretty red bow. “I already got you flowers, so I got you something a little nicer this time.”
Lindsay had tilted her head to the side. “You don’t have to bring me a gift.”
“I don’t have to
, but I like to.” He shrugged. “And besides it’s my fault you lost your job, so I need to suck up a little.”
Lindsay had laughed. “I knew the rules and I made my choice. Not your fault at all.” She lifted the gift and shook it. “But I won’t say no to something pretty.” She opened the box. Inside was a charm bracelet from James Avery. Samwell had selected three charms as well: an apple, a football, and a heart. She looked up at him, a crooked smile on her face. “I love it.”
“Did you see the charms?” He lifted the charm bracelet out of the little box and held it up for her inspection. “The apple represents you because you’re a teacher. Obviously,” he said to her smirk. “The football—”
“Let me guess. Represents you?” Lindsay asked, teasing him.
“Don’t get smart,” he chided playfully as he gestured for her to lift her arm so he could close the clasp and secure the bracelet to her wrist. “And the heart also represents me.”
Lindsay frowned questioningly at him. “I don’t know what you mean . . .”
“I’m giving you my heart,” he smiled, looking into her eyes. They remained locked in each other’s eyes for several seconds, then he shook his head and winked at her. “But that’s a discussion we’ll have at dinner.”
Lindsay played with the bracelet now as they pulled into the drive of the restaurant. A valet stepped forward immediately and opened her door, greeting her with a smooth voice. She smiled as she took his extended hand and stepped out of the car. She turned to look at Samwell, who handed the attendant a tip before walking to her. Lindsay took his arm, and they walked inside.
The restaurant was so beautiful. In the center was a fully grown tree, carefully manicured and decorated with plain twinkle lights and small framed pictures that Lindsay couldn’t see until they moved closer. The frames didn’t contain photos but rather decorative fabrics in all sorts of patterns and colors, a creative way to add texture to the tree. As a focal point, it was perfectly elegant.
The eating area was homey and attractively decorated, and the music being piped through the speakers was jazzy and low, lovely and slow. The lights were lowered to a soft golden glow, but not so low a person had to pull out his phone to read the menu. The servers were dressed in black slacks with white button-up shirts and black ties and small black aprons. They spoke in low voices, only half a decibel louder than the music so as not to disrupt the ambience of the room.
Samwell and Lindsay were led to a small table set back against the wall so the occupants could have a view of the entire dining room. The table held a small candle, the light from the flame flickering across the white tablecloth, and the place settings were immaculate.
As soon as they were seated, a server appeared. “Good evening, Mr. Graffton.” He turned to Lindsay. “Ms. Rice.”
Lindsay raised an eyebrow at Samwell, who nodded and winked. “Good evening, Toby. I’m so glad you were working this evening.”
“As am I, sir. Would you like to begin with the wine list?” Toby, a man of about thirty, was the picture of old-school service in his white shirt and black tie. His voice was deep and gracious, and Lindsay wondered if they were trained to sound like that.
“Actually, we’d like a bottle of Mosseto Tuscana, please. The lady prefers red,” Samwell told him.
Toby bowed slightly, and Lindsay had the impression of an English butler. “Of course. Any appetizers this evening?”
Samwell looked at Lindsay, who gestured for him to order the appetizers. He leaned close to her and asked, “Do you like seafood?” She nodded, and he returned his attention to Toby. “How about the tuna tartare and beausoleil oysters to begin?”
Toby smiled at Lindsay. “A very good choice. You’ll love the tuna. It’s my favorite.”
“Thank you, Toby.” Lindsay watched as the man moved away, gliding through the tables as like a dancer, then she looked at Samwell, eyes narrowed. “How did he know my name?”
“I told them,” Samwell confessed. “They prefer to offer top-notch service here. Knowing your name is important to the servers.”
She leaned close. “It’s a little weird for someone who is used to Olive Garden.”
Samwell threw his head back and laughed. Several customers turned to look, and a few raised their eyebrows and spoke in whispers to their tables. They had recognized the famous quarterback. He took her hand and kissed it, not caring that they had a small audience around them.
“You are the most charming woman I’ve ever known. And you don’t even try,” Samwell told her, his eyes dancing with his laughter.
The candlelight reflected off the dark brown eyes set into the equally dark face, and Lindsay was mesmerized, unable to take her eyes off him. She leaned toward him, pulling on his hand so he matched her movements. Their lips touched, and Lindsay’s heart tripped, fell, and would not recover from the fall. She was in love with him.
Samwell broke the kiss, his smile intact, and Lindsay was sure he could see the love in her eyes. She hoped, with everything inside her, that his feelings matched hers or were at least similar.
Toby cleared his throat, breaking the moment. The couple looked up at him. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Graffton, Ms. Rice.” He lifted the bottle in his hand.
Samwell sat back. “Of course. I’ve tasted it before, so we don’t need to do that.”
Toby nodded and poured wine into the two glasses waiting on the table. Just as he finished, their appetizers arrived. “Perfect timing. I’ll leave you to the appetizers and come back in a moment for your entrees?”
“Thank you, Toby.” Samwell and Lindsay tucked in to the appetizers. Lindsay made yummy noises every time she put a bite in her mouth. “I guess you like the oysters?”
“Oh my gosh, Samwell! I’ve never tasted anything so delicious! And the tuna is to die for!” Lindsay laughed a little as she put another bite into her mouth.
Samwell smiled. “I knew you’d like it. Do you like the wine?”
“Oh, I do. It’s awfully strong, though,” Lindsay observed. “Are you trying to get me schnockered?”
Samwell’s laughter pitched above the quiet conversations around them once again. “Scnockered? Did you make that word up?”
“No. That’s what my uncles called it when they drank,” Lindsay replied, giggling. “I always liked that word better than drunk.”
“Rest assured, my lady. I am not trying to get you schnockered,” Samwell said with a smile and another kiss of her knuckles. He cleared his throat. “So, I wanted to talk to you about our relationship.”
Lindsay looked up from her plate. She set her fork down and smiled at him. “All right. I’d like that, too. You go first.”
“Well, we’ve already agreed to be exclusive, yes?”
“Yes.”
“I know you’re worried about the press.” Lindsay nodded at him. Samwell pressed his lips together briefly, then continued. “It is something we’ll have to address. Because I’ve never really been serious with anyone, you’ll be big news for a day or two, and then no one will care unless there’s a scandal.”
“A scandal?” Lindsay asked, her eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”
“You know. If I get caught cheating or you get caught cheating or blah blah.” Samwell shook his head. “All those stories I’m sure you’ve seen about me, with all the women. My mother nearly beat my butt, and I’m twice her size and a millionaire! She hates it, but she deals. When they interview her, which they do sometimes, she handles it like a pro. I think you can, too.”
Lindsay nodded. “I can, Samwell. And I’m willing to deal with that nonsense for you.” She kissed his knuckles. “Now that you know I can handle it, let’s order dinner. I’m so excited about this food!”
Samwell smiled. “Charming.” He lifted his hand and signaled for Toby, who hurried over to take their order.
***
As the valet brought the car around, Lindsay cuddled into Samwell’s side, and he wrapped his arm around her. Across the street, Lindsay saw a man w
ith a camera aimed at them and she was tempted to flip him off. She didn’t, but she thought really hard about it. But that wasn’t “dealing with the press” in a polite, respectful way. So she smiled, lifted herself up on her toes, and kissed Samwell’s cheek, startling him.
“What are you doing?” he asked, looking down at her.
She nodded her head in the direction of the man with camera. “Giving that guy a little show.”
Samwell looked, frowning. “You want to really give him a show?”
“What do you me—” Lindsay words turned into a squeal when Samwell bent her back over his arm so that her leg lifted and planted a kiss on her lips. When he lifted her up, he waved to the guy and opened Lindsay’s door so she could climb in. Her laughter was music to his ears.
When they reached her apartment, he drove the block a couple of times. She frowned when she realized what he was doing. “Why have we driven around the block three times?”
“Assuring myself that we haven’t been followed.”
Lindsay’s eyes widened. “What? They follow you home?”
“Sometimes. Like I said, you’re a big story right now. We may have to consider an interview soon,” Samwell mused.
“An interview?” Lindsay shook her head. “I don’t want to do that.”
“Then you don’t have to,” Samwell said with a smile. “We’re here.”
“With no unwanted guests?” Samwell chuckled and shook his head. “Ok, then, would you like to come up to my apartment?”
Samwell’s eyebrows raised. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent sure. I want you,” Lindsay said simply. “I’ve had two lovers in my life, both of whom I was in a relationship with. This is going to sound crazy and corny and may scare you to death, but I’m kind of hoping you’ll be my last lover.”
“Lindsay, I think I’m falling in love with you.” The smile on her face meant more to him than all the millions he possessed.
“Same here, Samwell. Let’s go upstairs.”