Steal My Heart (Bachelors & Bridesmaids) (7 page)

"I'm sorry, Michael," Liz said, compassion in her eyes.

"Luckily, I had college waiting and football, of course. I should probably be thankful my parents waited until I was leaving the house. I know that they both deserved to be happy, so if being together wasn't going to make them happy, then they made the right decision."

She nodded. "That's a good way to look at it."

He took one last look at the house, then pulled away from the curb. "Let's go see your family."

"I should have told you that I was inviting you to basically a football viewing party," she said. "If you want to drop me off, I can find another way back to Sacramento."

"It's a long drive," he reminded her.

"I can always rent a car."

"No, you're not going to do that. I'm fine. Just tell me there will be snacks."

"More than you could imagine."

Chapter Six

Despite Michael's willingness to come to her house, Liz felt a little guilty about exposing him to the football fanatics in her family. It would be good for her dad, but having heard a little more of Michael's story, she wondered if it would be good for him. He obviously had an emotional attachment to the game, the dream career he'd worked so hard to get and the abrupt collapse of everything he'd ever wanted. She'd always thought of him as the
Golden Boy
, the one for whom everything always went right. But that had certainly ended last year.

Still, he had recovered. He was back on his feet, working for his sister, going after huge PR accounts as if he had all the experience in the world. She really didn't need to feel sorry for him.

Not that she did feel sorry for him. No, her feelings were far more complicated than that.

"Turn left at the next street," she said.

"I remember," he muttered.

Now it was her turn to ask, "How do you remember where I live?"

"I wanted to talk to you after you broke my nose, so I drove to your house."

"But we didn't talk," she said, meeting his gaze.

"No, I chickened out."

Silence followed his words. She knew she should leave it alone, but somehow she couldn't. "What were you going to say to me?"

"That you had it wrong," he said with a sigh. "But you wouldn't have believed me. And I couldn't risk taking another punch to the face. My parents were all over me about what had happened at the party."

"Did you tell them I hit you?"

"God, no! I couldn't tell my father that a girl broke my nose."

She smiled. "My older brothers taught me how to fight."

"They did a good job." He paused. "Did you ever tell your parents?"

She shook her head. "No, it was too embarrassing. I kept thinking I might have to. I waited for you or your parents to call them or to report me to the school. I don't think I slept very well for the next few weeks—if that's any consolation."

"Not really. My nose is still crooked."

"It gives you character. And you played football. I'm sure I wasn't the only one to take a shot at your face."

"I took some hits, but I usually had a helmet and face mask on. And you didn't only leave me with a physical scar, I was a little gun-shy when it came to kissing a girl for months after that."

"I'm sure you got over it."

He parked the car in front of her house, and as they got out, she saw her brothers and their kids at the grassy park across the street. Her oldest brother Tom waved to her, motioning her over. "It must be halftime," she said. "Come and meet my brothers."

Tom came over to give her a hug while Greg threw the football to four little boys who went racing to catch it.

"I wasn't sure you were going to make it," Tom said.

"I told you I'd make the time. This is Michael Stafford," she added as her brother's interested gaze moved to Michael.

Recognition flickered in Tom's eyes followed by excitement. "The football player?"

"Former football player," Michael replied.

"I saw that hit you took on your knee," Tom said. "That was painful to watch."

"Even worse to experience," Michael said lightly. "You look like you have some young football players here."

"Cameron and Doug love to play," Tom said. "Joey and Mark would probably rather be building something, but it's a Sunday afternoon tradition." Tom paused, giving Michael a quick look. "Hey, you wouldn't want to throw the kids a pass, would you?"

"Tom," she protested. "I didn't bring Michael here to play football."

"I know I shouldn't ask, but Cameron is playing peewee football right now, and he hasn't been doing very well. It would really perk him up to meet a pro player."

Liz saw the strain behind Michael's smile and knew she'd put him in a bad position. "Maybe later," she said. "I want Michael to meet Dad."

"It's okay," Michael cut in. "I'd be happy to throw some passes to the kids."

"Great," Tom said, leading Michael over to meet Greg and the kids.

She watched as Michael immediately jumped into the game. He demonstrated the best way to throw the ball, then sent the kids a short distance away so they could practice their catches.

While Tom was helping the kids get into position, her brother Greg came over with a smile.

"Michael Stafford? Dad is going to love you," Greg said. "Does he know Michael is coming?"

"It's a surprise."

"I didn't know you and Stafford were friends."

"We were in the same grade but not friends. However, I ran into him a few days ago. He's actually competing for the same account. So we're rivals again."

Greg gave her a thoughtful look. "If you're opponents, why are you hanging out with him?"

That was a good question. "I thought Dad would love meeting him."

"Well, that's true. Dad is going to go nuts. He used to rave about Stafford when he was playing for the high school team. I think he wished Tom or I had been even half as good as Stafford, but we did not have the talent." Greg paused. "So now Stafford is in PR?"

"With his sister's firm. He can't play anymore because of his injury."

"That sucks. Good for him for moving on."

Michael was good at moving on, she thought. He was also good at hiding his feelings. She knew the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was playing football with her nephews, but once committed, he'd completely invested himself in the activity. And he was good with the kids, too. He was patient, lighthearted and encouraging. He would make a great coach. Maybe he should really reconsider his stance on the next stage of his career. Not that it was any of her business.

"Look at Cameron's face," Greg said. "He's over the moon."

She saw the adoration in her nephew's face as he looked up at Michael, and it reminded her of how often she'd seen people look at Michael that way. As teenagers, she hadn't been as impressed with him, but seeing him now putting himself out for her family, she had to admit she was starting to like him even more.

Bringing him home had definitely been a bad idea.

Fifteen minutes later, Michael had an even worse idea.

"Let's play a game," Michael said, waving her over. "We need you, Liz."

"I don't think so."

"Come on, Lizzie, Greg said impatiently. "We can do four against four if you play. And you can be on Michael's team."

"You can be my receiver," Michael told her with a cheerful smile.

"Maybe you can be my receiver," she returned. "Or do you only know how to throw a football?"

"I can catch. Can you throw?"

"I can throw," she said, meeting his gaze.

"Well, I want to see that," he returned.

"Then let me show you."

"You're on."

She and Michael lined up with two of her nephews while her brothers faced them with the other two boys.

Her nephew Cameron hiked the ball to her. Michael dodged Greg with a move worthy of an NFL player and headed toward the far end of the park. He wasn't going to make it easy on her, she quickly realized. Sidestepping Tom, who was closing in fast, she drew her arm back and threw the ball to Michael.

It had been years since she'd thrown a football, but it was probably the best spiral she'd ever thrown. She was more than a little pleased to see the shocked look in Michael's eyes when the ball landed perfectly in his hands. He turned and ran toward the designated goal line.

She let out a squeal of delight and ran across the grass. She was going to give him a high five, but as she raised her hand, he grabbed her around the waist and spun her around.

Laughing, he finally set her down. "That was a great pass, Lizzie."

"I taught her to throw," Tom said.

"Wait a second. I'm the one who taught her," Greg complained.

"Well, it doesn't matter, let's see how well you two defend," Tom said.

They lined back up again and for the next twenty minutes they played like the kids they'd all once been. Unfortunately, the game came to an end when Greg's pass sailed over one of the neighbor's fences.

While her brothers bickered about who was going to get the ball, Michael put his arm around her shoulders and said, "Nice throwing, Lizzie."

"For a girl?" she asked, smiling up at him.

"For anyone. You did surprise me. I always thought of you as an artist or a nerd; I had no idea you could play football with the boys."

"Having two older brothers and a father who loved the game made it impossible for me to avoid learning how to throw a spiral. It has been awhile though. I surprised myself. Thanks for playing today. I know it wasn't what you had in mind."

"It was more fun that I thought it would be."

"You're really good with kids. I think my nephews will be raving about you at school all week."

"Your nephews are great, easy to teach, excited to learn. They reminded me of how I felt when I first started to play."

"Well, I know I promised you some snacks, so why don't we go to the house? My father is going to be excited to meet you."

As they walked across the street, Michael kept his arm around her shoulders, and seeing as how he was being so nice to her and her family, she didn't push him away. Plus, she really liked being close to him, and this moment in time wasn't going to last very long, so she would just enjoy it.

The house she'd grown up in was a two-story, three-bedroom home, with a living room and formal dining room that were rarely used. All the real action took place in the big family room where she found her parents. As she'd expected, her father was on the couch in front of the 70-inch TV her brothers had bought him for his last birthday. The coffee table was laden with chips and veggie platters. While her father muttered at the refs about their latest line call, her mom knitted.

Liz smiled to herself at the familiar sight, feeling a comfort in the sameness of it all. Her dad had gone bald with the chemo and he was thinner than he used to be but he still had the fire in his eyes when he cared about something, whether it was football or work, or anything else. He was the one who had taught her to always give a hundred percent, no matter the job, no matter the odds against her success.

Her mother was a fair blonde with short curly hair and a sparkly smile. Her mother couldn't knit anything but blankets, and they all had far more than they could use, but she still kept on knitting. She said it relaxed her and she hated to be idle. The knitting had come in handy during the many long hours she'd spent accompanying her husband to chemo and waiting for tests to come back.

"Liz," her mom said in happy delight, as she caught sight of them. "I'm so glad you came."

"I wouldn't miss it." She licked her lips, realizing her mom's astute gaze had registered the fact that a very attractive man had his arm around her daughter's shoulders. She really should have moved away from Michael earlier. She stepped forward, Michael's arm dropping from her shoulders. "I brought someone I thought you might want to meet. This is—"

"Michael Stafford," her father said, cutting her off. His eyes lit up with excitement as he kicked back the footrest of the recliner and sat up. "I can't believe it. Michael Stafford is in my house. What is going on?"

"Sir," Michael said, moving across the room to shake her father's hand.

"Call me Ron," her dad said. "This is my wife Joan."

"Nice to meet you both," Michael said, giving her mom a warm smile.

"You, too," Joan said. "Please sit down. Liz didn't say she was bringing any visitors."

"I wanted it to be a surprise," she said.

"Can I get you anything?" her mother asked as Michael took a seat on the couch.

"I'd love something to drink," Michael replied. "I worked up a sweat playing football across the street."

"Really?" Joan asked, giving Liz a quizzical glance.

"We ran into Greg and Tom," Liz said. "They wanted to play a game with Michael, and he was nice enough to say yes."

"It was fun," Michael said. "I had no idea Liz knew how to throw a spiral."

Her dad nodded. "She was actually better than Tom and Greg. Don't tell them I said that."

Michael laughed. "I saw that at the park."

"Do you want a beer?" Liz asked.

"That sounds great."

"And I'll get more snacks," Joan added, following Liz out of the room.

Liz walked into the kitchen and smiled at her sister-in-law Amber and her six-year-old niece Hannah. They were covered in flour with sheets of cookies ready to be put in the oven. Amber was married to Tom. "What have we here?"

"Auntie Liz," Hannah said, sliding off the counter stool to come over and hug Liz. "We're making cookies."

"I can see that. Are any done yet?"

"You'll have to wait about twelve minutes," Amber said. "Did you happen to see my husband on your way in?"

"Yes. But Tom and Greg are trying to figure out who is going to knock on the Colemans' door to get the football back."

"Tom threw that ball over the Colemans' fence again?" her mother asked with annoyance in her eyes. "That must be the hundredth time."

"This time it was Greg," she said, wiping a smudge of flour off Hannah's face "And even though he's thirty-two years old, Greg is still afraid of 'mean old man Coleman'".