Blitzing Emily (22 page)

“Listen,” he said. “We need to talk about something.”

“You keep using that phrase,” she said. “Doesn’t ‘we need to talk’ usually mean bad news?”

She saw him hide a smile while pretending to rub his nose. “Gotcha.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not mad at your dad, because he’s telling the truth. I’d be the same way if it was my daughter.”

Emily shook her head vigorously. “You would not.”

“Oh, yes, I would. My little girl isn’t dating till she’s thirty.” Emily rolled her eyes. Brandon grinned back at her. “No matter how old you are, you’re still his little girl, too. He remembers you with pigtails and no front teeth, sugar. He doesn’t want anyone to hurt you, and he certainly isn’t sure about some guy who ended up engaged to his daughter less than twenty-four hours after they met.” He took a swallow of his pint of beer. “I’ll invite him out to lunch.”

“He’ll tell you no.”

“I think you’ll be surprised.” He pulled the smart phone from his pocket. “May I have your dad’s phone number?”

“I don’t think this is a good idea—”

“I need the number,” he said.

Emily reached out for his phone, keyed the number in, and handed it back to him. “All you have to do is hit ‘Send.’”

Brandon held the phone to his ear.

“Mr. Hamilton, it’s Brandon McKenna. I would like to have lunch with you this week. How does Tuesday sound?” Emily couldn’t hear her dad’s response, but Brandon said, “I’ll meet you at a restaurant by your office. How about the Metropolitan Grill at noon?” After a bit more conversation, Brandon said, “Great. I’ll look forward to it. See you at noon on Tuesday.” He punched a button to end the call.

Emily regarded him in shock. “How did you manage that?”

Brandon raised an eyebrow. “Your dad doesn’t want to lose his daughter. He also wants to know that I’m a man, not a boy.”

“Maybe you could explain that, too.”

“If I don’t have the balls to face him, you shouldn’t be with me. Eat up, sugar, or you won’t get any dessert.”

It sounded like Attack of the Alpha Males. Brandon convinced her father to have lunch with him. Then again, Emily’s dad wouldn’t stage a DEFCON-1 freak-out in one of Seattle’s most exclusive restaurants.

A
FTER THEIR MEAL,
they walked hand-in-hand to the same bench they always sat on during visits to the park.

“I don’t see Katie today,” Brandon said.

“Maybe her mom and dad took her somewhere else.”

“Could be. But, hey, we need to discuss something else your dad mentioned. My mama wants to know when the wedding is. She says her friends are driving her nuts about it.”

Emily swiveled to look at him in disbelief. “We can’t pick a date.” It was one thing to have a fake engagement. A fake wedding date? Now, that was taking things a bit too far.

“It’s obviously a problem for your dad. Plus, I think we should set a date,” he persisted.

“I thought we said we’d see how things went. I don’t understand why you’re changing the rules.”

“Listen,” he said patiently, “Engaged people typically pick a wedding date. There’s only so long we can avoid it.” He wrapped his arm around the back of the bench and stretched his legs out in front of him. He seemed perfectly relaxed. She was a bundle of emotions: surprised, shocked, and more than a bit scared.

“This is crazy.” Emily said.

“We need a date. Pick one.”

“You’ve decided this is real now.”

His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Maybe.”

The ring on the third finger of Emily’s left hand felt like the weight of the world. Most women waited their whole lives for this moment. Obviously, there was something wrong with her.

Her feelings for him grew every day. He was the first person she ran to now when she wanted to talk or she needed encouragement. Even when they sat on the couch and said nothing to each other, his presence was enough. He made her laugh. She missed him desperately when they were away from each other. Maybe it was shallow, but if they weren’t in public, she’d want to push him down and jump on him. Then again, she wanted to push him down and jump on him anyway.

She wondered how shocked he’d be if she actually did it. James made it clear so many times he didn’t welcome Emily’s displays of affection toward him, and she worried Brandon would think she was aggressive, too. Then again, he never shrank from her touch.

Maybe she should start off small.

Brandon squeezed her shoulder with one big hand. “Hey, where’d my fiancée go? I could have sworn I was just talking to her.”

“I’m still here.”

She reached out impulsively, pulled his face down to hers, and kissed the corner of his mouth. His mouth twitched into a smile, and she traced his dimple with one fingertip. He nuzzled her hair. She snuggled against him. She wanted to kiss the hollow between his shoulder and his neck for so long, so she did.

“Trying to distract me? You’re doing a fine job, sugar.” His mouth touched hers, the most fleeting of kisses. He wrapped his arms around her. She felt the laughter in his chest before she heard it, and her heart soared. “June works for me.”

“I’m not sure about June. I have bookings. July’s better, but you’ll be in training camp.”

He glanced away from her for a moment. “Maybe it’s time for me to retire. I can do the broadcasting thing, and I can spend more time with you.”

“You love playing football, though.” Emily said. “You—you’d miss the guys. You’d miss the games. Why do you want to give it up?”

“I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I’m lucky to still be able to play, but as I get older, that luck may run out. Plus, I saw what my dad went through. I don’t want to play till I can barely limp off the field. I’d like to get out while I’m still feeling good.” He shook his head. “You don’t want to be dragging some broken-down guy around.”

“I want whatever makes you happy,” she said.

“That’s good. Let’s pick a date for the wedding, then. That will make me very happy.”

Emily twisted her hands in her lap. “February second.”

“You like February, huh?”

“It was my parents’ anniversary.”

He gave her a quizzical look. “You’re trying to tell them something.”

“I—I don’t know. They’re spending a lot of time together these days. I wonder what’s going on.”

He rubbed his chin. “I know that I asked you to come up with a date, but now I’m asking you to change it.”

“Why?”

“It’s Super Bowl weekend. It’s a long shot that we’ll go, but, somehow, I’m thinking you won’t want to wear a wedding gown at Miami Stadium.”

“Maybe not. The train and my veil would get beer spilled all over it.” The thought made her smile. “How about next January?”

“Too long.” he complained. His fingers curled around hers, and her heart did a funny little “ba-bump.” “I know,” he said, and pulled her closer. “We’ll get married February fifteenth. Everyone gets married on Valentine’s Day. Let’s be different. Plus, you’ll get two dinners out every year instead of only one.” He leaned back again, a smug grin on his lips. “Just think. If you play your cards right, you’ll also get to go to the Pro Bowl with me. That’s in Hawaii, you know.”

“You want to get married on February fifteenth so you won’t forget our anniversary,” she teased.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss into her palm. Warmth spread low in her abdomen. She squirmed a little.

“That’s not true.” He wiggled an eyebrow. “We’re celebrating your engagement ring’s first anniversary.” He spoke into her ear. “We could always have a very private party.”

“Is that so?”

“Oh, yeah. You and me. You won’t even need a dress.”

Emily’s face burned. She knew she was blushing. She was more than a little breathless. Unless she was really wrong, he wanted her, too. “We’re not getting married naked.”

“The preacher can marry us, and then we can get naked.”

“Try explaining to your mom that we didn’t invite her. What about my mom? They’ll freak out. It—”

He laid his fingertips over her lips. “The wedding can be as big or as small as you’d like. It doesn’t matter. I want it to happen. You and me.”

Emily dragged breath into her lungs. “Yes. This is real.”

“Wait till you find out where we’re going on our honeymoon.”

Her hands shook. Her mouth went dry. She shifted on the bench. “The NFL Hall of Fame?”

His chuckle was low and sexy. He pulled her earlobe into his mouth, nibbled it, and said, “Nope. I’m not taking you anywhere anyone will recognize either of us. I want you all to myself.”

“I might be able to arrange that.”

“Good,” he purred.

Being close to him was like sticking a wet finger into an electrical outlet. She kept telling herself to breathe. She couldn’t imagine there would be a day she didn’t feel like this.

“So, we have a deal.” he said. “February fifteenth.”

“Maybe we should discuss where we’re getting married.”

“That’s your job. You get to have whatever you’d like, and I will be happy with it.”

“It’s the First Church of Elvis for you, bruiser.”

“Great. I’ll wear blue suede shoes.” His brow furrowed. “You’re not serious.”

“Maybe. You’ll be so cute in that big black pompadour.”

“You’ll be sporting the long, teased black hair, won’t you?”

She had to laugh. “We can’t get married there. I love your hair the way it is too much.” She reached up to brush the curls off his forehead.

“Sugar, aren’t you sweet?” He thought for a moment. “You’ll let my mama help you, won’t you? She loves that stuff.”

“I will,” Emily promised. She ran her fingers through his curls again. The sun shone down on them. Hundreds of people enjoyed the Sunday afternoon all around them. It was just another day with one large exception: They’d set a wedding date. But Brandon never actually asked her to marry him. They had never talked about being in love, either.

Chapter Fourteen

T
HE HOUSE WAS
painted a bluish gray with immaculate white trim. The older architecture was dwarfed by the large homes surrounding it, but Emily loved the old-fashioned overgrown gardens and the stone path from the sidewalk. Several steps led down the walk to the front door. The front porch needed a glider. If she lived here she’d pick some of the wild roses that grew over the railing.

“Home sweet home,” Brandon said with a grin. “Nordquist’s allegedly in Hawaii with his girlfriend for a few days, so we have the place to ourselves.”

“Who’s Nordquist?” Emily took a deep breath of wild rose-scented air.

“You’ve met Greg. He’s on the practice squad. He lives in the basement when he’s in town.”

The front door of Brandon’s house was inset with leaded glass: an old-fashioned, intricate design. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but it didn’t look like him. He opened the front door, and ushered her into the cool dimness of an entry hall with wide plank flooring. She set her handbag down on a large maple storage bench with hooks for coats.

“How about a drink?” Brandon called as he went into the kitchen, which was to the right of the front door.

She followed him. A maple kitchen table and cream-painted chairs sat in front of a sunny bay window. The cabinets matched the table and chairs. The countertops were neutral granite. Another window over the kitchen sink offered a view of the postage stamp-sized front yard. The appliances were stainless steel, and appeared new. There were even sunflowers in a sage-colored pottery vase on the kitchen table.

He opened the refrigerator door. “I’ve got Coke, bottled water, beer, juice, and sweet tea. I can also make some coffee, if you’d like.”

“I’ll take a Coke.”

“No ice,” he mumbled to himself. He’d seen her order enough drinks without ice to know she stayed away from it.

Emily wandered over to a bulletin board hanging above a maple-and-cream writing desk. Even a bachelor needed somewhere to put the grocery list, the team schedule, and the folder of bills to be paid. The rest of the board was covered with snapshots of what she imagined were family and friends at various vacation spots. She noticed a photo of Brandon with a dark-haired guy about the same age and with the same eyes and facial structure, along with an older couple. They were standing on what appeared to be the same deck she saw through the arched entry into the dining room.

“Are these your parents?”

He glanced over. “Yeah. It was taken a few months ago.”

Brandon had his mom’s blonde curls and her eyes, but the rest of him was his father. The four of them had their arms around each other, with his petite mom standing in the protective embrace of her husband. Brandon and his dad were laughing. Dylan kissed his mother’s cheek. She was beaming.

“Your mom is tiny.” Her head barely came up to Brandon’s dad’s shoulder.

“Imagine how much fun it was for her to have two ten-pound sons, eleven months apart.”

Emily did her best not to flinch in sympathy.

Brandon handed her the drink. He poured himself some iced tea. “Let’s go out on the deck for a minute.”

Besides wondering if Brandon had stock in some type of maple furniture factory, Emily had a better idea why he bought the house. It was bigger than it looked from the street. The view from his dining and living room was breathtaking. The rooms overlooked Lake Washington, stretching all the way to the 520 floating bridge and the Space Needle and Columbia Center over the hill on the opposite side.

“This must be great in the summertime,” she said as they passed through the French doors onto his deck.

“It’s great even when it’s freezing out here. I love the view.”

Emily enjoyed watching the boats move across the water until the breeze kicked up. She shivered.

“You’re chilly, sugar,” Brandon said. “Let’s go back inside. Plus, you haven’t had the grand tour yet.” He took her elbow.

“I thought we were going to Damian’s for dinner.”

“There’s time. Come on.”

The dining room featured an expandable maple table and hardwood chairs with padding in a hunter green fabric. “I don’t eat in here unless my mama makes dinner for everyone,” he explained. “She kept telling me, though, that I needed a nice table and chairs, so I bought them.”