Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (6 page)

"Nothing much yet. You?"

"Just the rainforest ride. It was amazing. What I love about Playworld is the mix of thrill rides with fantasy. There's something everyone can enjoy. And while there are parts of this place that remind me of other amusement parks, it has its own unique vibe. It's like you walk through the gates and then strip off your adult expectations and become a kid again. Charlie has recaptured that moment where anything feels possible." She stopped abruptly, realizing she'd given a lot away. Clearing her throat. "What are your thoughts?"

"I was thinking along the same lines."

"Great," she muttered.

He laughed. "Lizzie, you don't have to worry. I'm not going to steal anything from you, not art, not ideas, not words. I can come up with my own."

"Well, you might not steal anything intentionally, but this is why we shouldn't go through the park together."

"You don't think I could have figured out on my own that Charlie wants to turn adults into kids when they enter the park?"

"I'm not going to argue with you."

"You used to love to argue with me."

She got to her feet. "I need to keep going. I have a lot of ground to cover."

"I'll be right behind you," he said, standing up.

She sighed. "You're going to follow me, aren't you?"

"Oh, yeah. It was really boring on my own yesterday. I got very tired of holding up one finger when they asked how many in my party. One is definitely not a party."

She couldn't help smiling at his dry comment. She'd felt exactly the same way. It was bad enough to be a party of one at a restaurant but in an amusement park, it felt really weird. "Fine, we'll go together. I was going to hit the speed track next."

"Great. I haven't done that one yet."

She hadn't either, and she didn't think she'd embarrass herself on that ride. She could handle speed. It was flying high and upside down that got to her. Somehow she'd have to get rid of Michael before they got to the roller coasters.

Three hours later, they'd covered all the important rides except one, and Liz found herself staring up at the giant roller coaster.

"Time to shoot the moon," Michael said, an eager light in his eyes.

"I thought you did it yesterday."

"Yeah, but I didn't do it with you."

She glanced down at her watch. "I don't have time today."

"What are you talking about? It's only one. The park doesn't close for hours."

"I know, but I have to drive down to my parents' house. Since my dad got sick, we've made a point of spending Sunday afternoons together."

"Well, there's not a long line. We should be done here in twenty minutes."

"No. You can do it by yourself. I have to go." Before he could try to persuade her to get into line, she took off at a fast pace.

"Hold on," Michael said, jogging up behind her. "What is going on with you?"

"Nothing. I just realized the time, and I need to get home. It's important."

"I get that, but are you sure there isn't more going on? Like maybe you don't want to ride the roller coaster?"

"I will ride it, just not today." She'd force herself on there, but when she did, she didn't intend to have Michael as an audience. "You should go back and get in line," she said, walking again.

"I'll wait and do it with you—maybe tomorrow."

"Sure," she said.

"So your whole family is getting together this afternoon?" he asked, falling into step with her.

"Yes, my brothers and their wives and kids."

"Sounds like fun."

A sudden thought occurred to her. There wasn't much she could do to make her dad's life easier, but maybe there was one thing… "What are you doing this afternoon?" she asked impulsively, hardly believing the words as they left her mind.

He seemed as surprised as she was. "What did you have in mind?"

"Do you want to come with me?"

"Really? What's the catch?"

"No catch," she said. "I can't guarantee it will be exciting in any way, but my mom is making roast beef for dinner."

"I haven't had a home-cooked meal in a while," he said slowly. "But you made it pretty clear you don't like me much. So why the sudden invitation?"

"I don't know. It's not a big deal. You don't have to come. You probably shouldn't come. I'll be taking you away from work."

"Maybe that's your motive."

She sighed. "Forget I asked."

"No, I'm coming."

"Great," she said. She'd tell him about her father's football fanaticism when they got there.

* * *

Michael still wasn't sure why Liz had decided to invite him to Sunday dinner at her parents' house. But he was happy to take a break from Playworld and get to know Liz outside of the competition.

Ever since she'd come back into his life, he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her. She was different than most of the women he'd spent time with in recent years. She had goals and drive, stubborn determination, and a hunger to win. But she was also very attractive with beautiful hair, big brown eyes, and a great body. She'd definitely blossomed after high school. Not that she'd appreciate him telling her so.

She didn't care much for compliments, or at least
his
compliments. For some reason she didn't trust him. Did that mistrust all stem from that one attempt at a kiss in high school? He really hadn't been setting her up for some humiliating fall, but he could see in retrospect that he might have put her in a bad position. But that was a long time ago.

He needed to show her that she could trust him.

Frowning, he wondered why he needed to show her anything. It shouldn't matter what she thought of him. After this promotional competition ended, would they even see each other again?

He found himself wanting the answer to that question to be
yes
.

"You can get off at the next exit," Liz said, interrupting his thoughts.

"Right. It's been a long time since I've been in Palo Alto."

"You've never come back to the old neighborhood?"

"I thought about it, especially after I moved to Berkeley, but I never got around to it."

"Did you like Arizona?"

"It was hot."

She laughed. "The desert can certainly be hot."

"And so much of the landscape was the same. It wasn't me. I liked playing for the Blackhawks, but I wouldn't have minded getting traded to San Francisco. Unfortunately, that didn't happen."

"You're here now."

"Yeah," he said, a sigh following his words.

Liz gave him a look. "Are you thinking about the call you got last night?"

"Yes, and the one I got this morning. Hank is persistent. The Blackhawks are playing San Francisco tomorrow—Monday night football. He wants me to meet him and hear his offer in person."

"Are you going to go?"

"Probably not."

"I don't get why you're so adamant about it. You love the game. If you can't play, why not coach?"

"Because I can't be that close to something I can't have anymore. It would be too hard. All I ever wanted to be from the time I was a little kid was a football player." He paused, thinking back to all the years he'd spent playing the game. "You know that my dad used to travel a lot?"

"Yes."

"So he wasn't a big part of my life. When he was home, I wanted his attention. I didn't really get it until I started to play football. He'd been a football player in college, and he loved that I was following in his footsteps. It was something we had in common. He'd come home from his trips, and we'd head straight to the park to throw the football around." He glanced at Liz. "Those were the best days."

"It's nice that you both shared a love of football." She gave him a thoughtful look. "When is the last time you spoke to your dad?"

"A week after my surgery. So I guess it was last year."

"He hasn't been in touch since then?" she asked in surprise.

"We lost the last link between us."

"If you coach, you might get that link back."

"I don't want it back anymore, not if that's all there is."

"Maybe with time your feelings would change."

"I doubt it. I haven't even been able to watch a football game since I left the Blackhawks. I got caught in a bar once when the channel changed, and when I saw the familiar uniforms, I couldn't get out of there fast enough."

"Oh."

There was an odd note in her voice. "What?" he asked suspiciously.

"This trip might not have been a good idea, Michael."

"Why is that?"

"My dad is a huge football fan. He spends all day Saturday watching the college games and all day Sunday watching the pros. When we get together on Sunday afternoons, we watch the games together. And during halftime, my brothers usually play catch with their kids in the park across the street."

His gut tightened at that piece of information. "You could have told me that sooner."

"I know," she admitted, a guilty look in her eyes. "But I was afraid you wouldn't come."

"And why would that matter? You've been trying to keep your distance from me. Why change that now?"

"Because my dad doesn't have a lot to be excited or happy about lately. He's holding his own with the chemo, but he's had a bad year. There are so few things I can do for him that make any difference in his life, but I know he'd be really excited to talk to you. He's followed your career ever since you got drafted out of high school."

"So you're using me."

She frowned at his suggestion. "I didn't really think of it that way. I just thought he'd love to meet you. You're a hometown hero in Palo Alto. Whenever your name is spoken, it's usually with great reverence."

"Okay, now you're pushing it," he said dryly.

"I'm really not. You know you're a celebrity."

"I
was
a celebrity."

"With sports heroes, you rarely lose the glow of glory, at least with sports fans. Don't be surprised if my dad remembers every big play you ever made, and that would include your college days in Michigan."

"Did I ever meet your dad back when we were in school?"

"I don't think so. He wasn't traveling, but he did work a lot, so he didn't come to many school events. He usually left that to my mom."

"I do remember your mother. She always made those caramel apples for Halloween."

"She still does—every year. She's a great cook. At least you'll have a good dinner tonight."

"That's something." As he stopped at a light, he glanced around the familiar intersection, which was just a few blocks from the high school. He would have turned right to go to his old house. On impulse, he did just that.

"This isn't the way," Liz said.

"Do you mind? I want to see my old house."

He drove down the quiet suburban streets with big, shady oak trees and bits of his past flashed through his mind. He'd only lived in Palo Alto for four years, but they'd been happy years. He'd actually been able to start and finish high school at the same school. And his family had been happy then, at least until graduation.

He pulled over in front of his former house, a two-story three-bedroom home. The yard looked the same. He could still remember popping his skateboard down the three steps off the front porch.

"That's it," he said.

"I know," Liz replied.

"Did you ever come over?" he asked quizzically.

"Of course not. I was not invited to your parties."

"I don't think anyone was invited," he said with a laugh. "People just showed up."

"The cool kids."

He tipped his head. "Probably true. So how did you know where I live?"

"My friends and I threw toilet paper at your house one night."

"That happened about a hundred times," he said with a laugh. "You'll have to be more specific."

"I think it was after one of the dances. In fact, I think there might have already been toilet paper in the trees when we arrived. You were very popular."

"It wasn't fun. I had to clean it up."

"The price you had to pay for being so loved."

"You really hated me, didn't you?"

"I don't know about hate. You just irritated me—a lot."

"I know it looked like I had everything in high school. But that was part of my act. I changed schools a lot and I learned quickly how to make friends and blend in. By the time I got to high school, I was a pro. But it was harder than it looked to come into a new school." He paused. "I used to think the only person who had any idea there was more to me than met the eye was you."

"Me?" She looked at him searchingly. "Why would you think that?"

"Because you didn't look up to me the way the other kids did, and when I ran against you for president of the science club you actually asked me about my views on evolution." He smiled at the memory. "Nobody else thought I could even spell the word, much less explain it. But you actually spoke to me like I had a brain in my head."

"I probably wanted to make sure you were qualified," she replied, offering him a rueful grin. "Or I just asked you that to try and show you up."

"But it didn't work."

"No, it didn't," she agreed. "You actually came up with a credible answer, and I thought good-looking and smart, too. It just wasn't fair."

"So you thought I was good-looking?"

"Fishing for compliments, Michael? That's beneath you. You have a mirror. You know what you look like."

He laughed at her bluntness. "You are one of a kind, Lizzie."

"Because I don't pander to your ego?"

"Because you actually use words like
pander
," he retorted. "Your intelligence is a little intimidating."

"Good. I need every advantage I can get."

Her words reminded him they were in a competition, and he was taking quite a detour into the past, but as he gazed back at the house, he could still see himself walking through those doors, yelling out he was home, flopping on the couch next to his mom while she watched whatever murder mystery movie was on the television.

"Things were good here," he muttered. "I felt close to my parents in this house. My sister was already in college the last three years, so a lot of times it was just the three of us or just my mom and me. After graduation, everything went to hell. I found out that my parents had wanted a divorce for a while, but they'd waited until I graduated from high school before dropping that bomb."