by Sarah Smith
The door was cracked open, a sliver only. Lindsay put her eye to the crack but couldn’t see anything, so she pushed the door open more. She pushed too hard, she realized too late, and it swung open and banged against the wall. A woman, clad in only lingerie, jerked around and stared at her.
“Hi,” the woman said, making no attempt to cover herself. “I’m Tiffany. Are you the cleaning woman?”
Lindsay lifted an eyebrow. “Cleaning woman?” Her voice was that of a robot’s, emotionless and monotonous.
Tiffany’s high pitched voice answered her, misinterpreting Lindsay’s voice and words. “I’m just waiting for Samwell. I’ll stay out of your way.” She smiled prettily, obviously used to charming people with her smile.
“Waiting for Samwell?” Lindsay asked. She couldn’t seem to comprehend what was happening as her eyes raked Tiffany’s nearly nude body.
Tiffany frowned at her. “I’m sorry. Do you not speak English?”
Lindsay’s eyes widened in fury. Without replying, she turned and walked down the stairs swiftly, ignoring the cries of the cat and Tiffany’s voice calling to her to wait. Straight through the kitchen, out the backdoor, and through the gate she marched without pausing. She climbed into her car, turned the ignition, and prepared to leave.
Is this what I’m going to have to deal with? Lindsay thought as she threw her purse into her car and climbed in. Women breaking into his home and into his bedroom, lounging about naked as if they belonged there? Maybe Ava had been wrong; maybe Samwell didn’t like her as much as she liked him. Was she just a groupie? Her heart pounded in pain, and tears welled in her eyes. She blinked them away, refusing to let a tear fall while she sat in his driveway.
Samwell’s car was pulling in the driveway as she was reversing to leave. He honked his horn and waved, a big grin on his face. Lindsay stared at him, her face expressionless. She refused to let him see how her heart was breaking. The temptation to flip him off raced through her mind, but she didn’t do that kind of thing. She looked away from him and peeled out of the driveway, tires squealing.
Samwell frowned as he watched her leave, confused. He grabbed his phone and texted her. While he waited for a response, he pulled into his driveway next to the car already parked there. Tiffany. Anger filled his entire being. He had told the woman again and again he was not interested, and she showed up at his house and said or did something to his girlfriend to send her out of there like a bat out of hell.
Samwell jerked out of his car, leaving the door open as he rushed upstairs to find Tiffany. He brushed his hand over Linus’ fur as he searched for Tiffany downstairs. He paused when he heard the music and took the stairs two at a time, slamming open the door of his bedroom. Tiffany turned, holding two glasses of wine, and smiled at him. The fact that she wore nothing but black, skimpy lingerie infuriated him, but he reined in his temper so he didn’t say something he shouldn’t.
Tiffany, ever clueless, smiled. “Hi, Samwell. I hope you like my surprise. I’ve been waiting for you for a while. Where have you been?”
Samwell stared at her, and some of his anger ebbed. She really had no idea what she’d done, and he knew her. She wasn’t cruel, and she wouldn’t have done this intentionally. “Tiffany, what are you doing here?”
“Waiting for you. I felt like you needed a little push, and no man can resist a woman in nothing but her lingerie,” Tiffany purred, gliding toward him and holding out one glass of wine as she sipped from the other.
“Did you see Lindsay?” he asked, his eyes on hers, his hands not moving to take the glass from her.
“The cleaning woman? Yes, she popped in. Kind of rude,” Tiffany replied, frowning when he didn’t take the wine from her.
“She’s not the cleaning woman, Tiffany. She’s my girlfriend. You’ve seen the gossip sites, I’m sure. You had to know who she was. And you’ve just caused me a big problem,” Samwell said through clenched teeth, his temper on a short leash.
“Your what?” Tiffany asked, shocked. “I thought she was just another groupie you’d been caught out with. I had no idea you were getting serious with her!” She looked down. “I didn’t recognize the woman who was here as the woman in the pictures.”
“I am serious about her. Maybe even marriage serious about her.” Samwell shocked himself with those words, not because he’d said them, but because they were true. He hung his head, putting his face in his hands. “But you may have just ruined it,” Samwell said harshly.
Tiffany sat the glasses down on his dresser and reached for her clothes. She looked at him as she dressed. “Samwell, I really had no idea. I would never, ever have done this had I known you were becoming serious about her. I don’t scam on men who are taken. You know that about me.”
Samwell glanced at her. He had known her for a few years, and even though he heard some stories about her, never once had those stories included a married man. Or even a man who had a permanent girlfriend. Tiffany had pulled her dress over her head and adjusted it as she spoke. She was sincere, he could tell by the look on her face. “I know you don’t, Tiffany.”
“I’m really sorry. I’ll do what I can to help.” She moved to him and put her hand on his shoulder to comfort him. He was tempted to shrug it off, as if her touching him would make this worse even if Lindsay couldn’t see it. “Let me go talk to her. Explain that this was all my fault.”
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea. She was so angry,” Samwell said, shaking his head. He stood. “I’ll go over there and talk to her, convince her. She cares for me, I know she does. Maybe she’ll listen to reason.”
Tiffany laughed and pushed him back down on the bed, shocking him. “Are you kidding me? You know nothing about women.” She shook her head, her girlish giggle digging at his nerves. “All she saw was a mostly naked woman in your bed. You can tell her anything you want, but there will always be a doubt, even if she decides to forgive you. Even if she loves you. That’s how women are.”
“No, you don’t know Lindsay. She’s not like that,” Samwell insisted, though he wondered. Her expression had been so blank, worse than if she had glared at him or flipped him off or something. Anger he could deal with, but hurt was a harder emotion to overcome. “I don’t know if seeing you will help or hurt this situation.”
“Give me her address. I’ll go over, talk to her, and fix this misunderstanding. I promise. Then I’ll text you when I leave, and you can swoop in with flowers and something pretty,” Tiffany said. “Oh, it’ll be so romantic!”
Samwell stared at her. “Romantic isn’t the word I would use.”
She tweaked his nose. “Yeah, but you’re not a girl.”
Samwell tilted his head at her, his frown slowly transforming into a small smile. “I’ll think about it.” He paced, his thoughts racing.
Tiffany watched him for a moment. “Text me her address. I need to get over there right away.” She bounded out of the bedroom, and a moment later he heard the backdoor close. She’d intentionally left the decision in his hands. He could send her the address or not.
Would Lindsay believe him? Maybe, maybe not. It was certainly an ugly situation. He picked up his phone and sent Tiffany the address. I’ll take her food, not something pretty, Samwell thought, well aware that pretty things were for some girls, but Chinese food from her favorite restaurant was the way to win Lindsay’s heart.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Tiffany hurried to Lindsay’s apartment, her guilt a burden she wanted off her shoulders as quickly as possible. Although she wanted a rich husband and was unashamed to admit that freely, she’d never tried to steal another woman’s husband, nor would she ever stoop so low. She knew women who slept with the players, married or not, and it never turned out well for the player or the girl.
She checked her GPS again and turned left onto the street that housed Lindsay’s apartment. She had been rehearsing what she would say to her and wished she knew her a little better. Tiffany snickered at the ridiculous situation she’d found her
self in: she’d been caught by a player’s girlfriend in nothing but her underwear. Her face burned in humiliation. She must think I’m awful, Tiffany thought as she pulled into the apartment parking lot.
Tiffany put aside her humiliation and her pride and climbed out of her car. She had some explaining to do, and some apologizing. She had promised Samwell she would fix this, but more importantly, she had sworn to herself she would. She checked her phone one last time to make sure she had the correct apartment number before knocking three times.
An unfamiliar woman answered the door. “Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Lindsay Rice,” Tiffany began in her sweet voice.
The woman raised an eyebrow and raked her eyes down her body and back up. “Who are you?”
Tiffany cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the absolute hostility with which the woman stared at her. “I’m Tiffany. Um, Lindsay doesn’t really know me, but I need to talk to her.”
“Are you the slut who was waiting in her boyfriend’s bed? Because if so, you can get the hell out of here,” the woman said, pointing a finger down the hall as if Tiffany didn’t know how to get the hell out of there.
“Abbie, stop.” Lindsay stepped forward and looked at Tiffany. “What do you want?”
Tiffany looked from Abbie to Lindsay. “May I speak with you about what happened?”
Lindsay shrugged and stepped back so Tiffany could come inside. “Have a seat,” she told her, gesturing to the couch. Lindsay sat on the chair, and Abbie sat on the arm of the chair, her hand on Lindsay’s shoulder for support.
Tiffany could see the tear tracks and swollen eyes. It was obvious Lindsay had been crying since she’d left Samwell’s house. Guilt hit Tiffany again, and she strengthened her resolve to make this situation right. “First of all, I’m sorry that you found me in Samwell’s bedroom with nothing on but my underwear.”
Abbie snorted. “That’s blunt.”
“Abbie,” Lindsay murmured. She returned her stare to Tiffany, waiting for her to continue.
After a deep breath, Tiffany continued. “Lindsay, I honestly had no idea Samwell had a girlfriend.”
“What about the pictures all over the internet?” Abbie interrupted.
Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Abbie is my best friend and very protective.”
Tiffany smiled. “I understand, and I’d behave the same way were you my best friend. I saw those pictures, but I’ve seen pictures of him with women before who weren’t girlfriends.” She paused to gather her words. “Samwell is the best man on the team. And by ‘man,’ I mean the best person. He’s everything a woman, any woman, could want. I’ve wanted him for a while, so I tried to seduce him before another woman could steal him. Had I known the two of you were serious, I would never have been in his house. I may chase a man relentlessly, but I do have some morals!” she finished, chuckling at herself.
Lindsay had listened carefully to her explanation and decided she was more than likely being sincere. It had taken a lot of guts to come here and speak with her. Lindsay had seen the flush rising up the woman’s neck as she spoke: she was embarrassed of her actions and felt badly for causing a problem.
After several moments of silence, Tiffany spoke nervously. “Listen, whatever you choose to do here, you should know that Samwell had no idea I was there. I literally planned to surprise and seduce him. After you left and he got there, he was so upset, so worried that you might dump him that I thought he might cry. That’s why I’m here. To fix my mistake.” Tiffany had put an emphasis on my.
“He cried?” Lindsay asked, a small smile on her face.
“Well, not cried. But almost,” Tiffany said. “He had his face in his hands like his world was ending.”
Lindsay leaned forward and took Tiffany’s hand in hers. “Tiffany, I forgive you. But you really should rethink your seduction plan. What if I had been a crazy psycho and attacked you?”
Tiffany joined Lindsay in her laughter. Abbie rolled her eyes and stood, heading down the hall to her bedroom.
“You have no idea how grateful I am that you aren’t a psycho!” Tiffany exclaimed, her laughter growing louder.
“Same here! What if you had been a crazy, naked psycho? What a story I would have to tell!” The two women doubled over in laughter at the idea. Lindsay decided she liked Tiffany. Their laughter was interrupted by a knock on the door. Tiffany glanced in that direction and smiled.
“I bet I know who that is. And his arrival is my cue to leave.” Tiffany rose and extended her hand. The women shook hands, all hard feelings aside, and Tiffany walked to the door. She opened it. Samwell stood there, looking forlorn and lost. She winked at him, stepped around him, and left without a word.
Samwell stepped inside and saw Lindsay with a smile on her face. His tension eased a little at the sight of her beautiful face, although he could see where tears had left their marks. His stomach squeezed painfully at the realization that he’d caused those tears, indirectly, of course.
“Lindsay, I’m so sorry that happened.” He held up his arms. In one hand, he carried a huge bouquet of orange roses, her favorite. And in the other hand, he held a carry-out bag from her favorite Chinese food restaurant.
Lindsay raised an eyebrow at him, and one side of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Roses and Chinese food? Hmmm?”
Samwell lifted the hand with the roses. “Your favorite color AND your favorite restaurant.” He nodded sagely.
“You sure know how to make up to a girl,” Lindsay said, her smile full. She took the roses from him as Abbie walked back into the room. “Abbie, this is Samwell. Samwell, my best friend and roommate, Abbie.”
Samwell extended his hand, and Abbie shook it. She pulled him close to her. “Don’t hurt her again. She’s the best person I’ve ever known, and you’re lucky to have her.”
“I won’t, Abbie. I promise.” Samwell looked her in the eyes, not blinking, and finally, she seemed to believe him. She released his hand and stepped back.
“I’ll leave you to it then,” Abbie told them, hugging Lindsay with one arm as she walked back to her room. “I’m going to have Chinese delivered, just so you know!”
Lindsay chuckled, a little red with embarrassment over Abbie’s display of protective lioness. “Sorry about that. She loves me.”
“As do I, Lindsay,” Samwell said quietly. Lindsay’s eyes widened as he sat the food on the closest table and wrapped his arms around her. “Lindsay, I’m in love with you. This afternoon when I saw you leave, so angry, and then I found Tiffany. . .” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I can’t lose you. I love you.”
Tears sprang into her eyes as she pulled him close and kissed his lips. When she pulled away, a single tear fell. He wiped it away. “I promise to try my hardest never to make you cry again. It kills me that your tears fell because of me.” She shook her head and opened her mouth to respond, but he put a finger on her lips to shush her. “Indirectly, I caused you pain. Never again, if I can help it.”
Lindsay put her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down for another kiss. “Samwell, I love you too. I overreacted to Tiffany. I didn’t even give you an opportunity to explain, just made an assumption. That wasn’t fair.”
“I want you in my life. I want you to be my girlfriend,” Samwell whispered to her. “And someday, if you like the idea, maybe my wife.”
Lindsay’s eyes popped open at the word wife. “Samwell, you’re crazy,” she murmured with a little giggle. “But yes, maybe someday.” She kissed him, then pulled away suddenly. “Oh my gosh! That would make me a WAG!”
Samwell laughed. “Actually, you’re already a WAG.”
Lindsay sighed. “Well, I guess you’re right. Kind of weird.”
“You won’t have to worry about the paparazzi,” Samwell said. “I have to do an interview sometime soon anyway, so I’ll talk about you then. They’ll eat it up, and then you’ll be old news.”
“Old?” Lindsay had pulled away and narrowed her eyes playful
ly. She poked his side, eliciting a little manly giggle.
“My apologies, lovely lady.” Samwell kissed her, deepening the kiss until she was breathless. “You have a choice, my love. Dinner now?” He kissed her again, running his hands up and down her body as he did so, making her other choice quite clear. “Or dinner later?”
As an answer, Lindsay took his hand and led him to her bedroom.
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