Changing Teams
Page 22
“Tell me you love me,” I said.
“I love you, angel,” he replied. “I love you so much I fear my heart might burst.”
“Will you take care of me?”
“Always. Forever.”
I smiled. “I like these answers.”
“That a yes, baby?”
Instead of answering, I shoved our beers aside and climbed up onto the table, wrapping my arms around Sam as I kissed him hard. “It’s a yes,” I said against his lips. “I love you too, cowboy.”
We were still kissing when the waitress appeared with our food, clearing her throat and scowling. “Forgive us,” Sam said as I slid back to my seat. “Britt here just agreed to marry me, and we got a little carried away.”
The waitress’s scowl instantly became a grin. “Ray, get me two glasses of champagne,” she called over her shoulder. “Looks like we’re gonna have a wedding.”
Chapter Thirty
Britt
“Tell me, darlin’, does your daddy still live nearby?”
“Yeah, he’s a town over. Why?”
Sam and I were nestled in the hotel room’s ginormous bed, lazing away the morning. He’d already called the front desk and extended our stay to Wednesday, and advised the wash and fold that we wouldn’t be picking up our laundry for a few more days. Yeah, my man was sexy and organized.
“I was thinking we should pay him a visit.” Sam propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at me, gliding his fingers along the side of my neck. “After all, I do need to ask his permission to marry you.”
I laughed, burying my face in Sam’s shoulder. “I don’t think people do that anymore,” I said. I sure couldn’t imagine Patrick asking my grandfather if he could marry my mom. Then again, Grandpa was an excellent judge of character. He probably would have said no.
“What’s wrong with being old fashioned?” Sam asked. “Besides, I can’t rightly call you my fiancée before I’ve met your father.”
“What about your parents?” I asked. “I still need to meet your father. And your mother, in real life.”
“Sioux City will be our next stop,” he said. “Promise.”
“So, we’re not engaged until then?” I pouted. “Maybe I don’t want to wait that long.”
“Careful, darlin’, you’ll give me ideas,” Sam said with his lopsided grin.
“Ideas?” I pushed him onto his back and climbed onto his chest. “What sort of ideas?”
“Well, we did drive by the town hall,” Sam said. “I believe that’s where they issue marriage licenses.”
“Sam, we can’t get married today,” I said. “I mean, it’s a Tuesday!”
Sam chuckled. “I’ll make a mental note, no Tuesday weddings. Besides, Massachusetts has a three day waiting period after the license is issued.” When I raised an eyebrow, he explained, “I may have Googled it while you were sleeping.”
“Three days, huh?” I laid my cheek over Sam’s heart and laced my fingers with his. “So, Friday then?”
Sam kissed my hair. “If you want Friday, angel, then Friday it is.”
A small thrill went down my spine; we were really doing this. “Won’t we be back in New York by Friday?”
“New York’s waiting period is twenty-four hours,” he said. I guess he’d done quite a bit of Googling.
“What about your parents?” I pressed. “Will they be able to come out?”
“What if,” Sam began, rolling so I was beneath him, “we get married, and then have a party later on? I’m sure Stepdaddy will want something large and extravagant.”
“Do we have to invite him?” I whined.
“Not specifically, but who do you think your mother will invite as her guest?”
“Good point.” I pulled Sam in for a kiss that quickly became something more.
“Love you, baby,” he murmured, nudging my thighs apart with his knee.
“Love you more.”
“Nope.”
“I’ll prove it.”
Sam grinned. “Well, all right.”
Afterward, we were snuggled close, and I tugged at the dark hair near Sam’s navel. “I don’t want to get married on Friday.”
Sam tensed against me; I debated teasing him a bit, but that would have been mean. “I want Jorge to make me a dress, and I don’t think even he can finish a wedding dress by Friday.”
Sam relaxed, and kissed my forehead. “Anything you want, angel. Anything at all.”
***
After showering and scarfing down our room service breakfast, we hopped in the Beemer and headed north. About half an hour later we pulled into the parking lot next to Rocket Comics.
“I thought we were going to your father’s house,” Sam said.
“We are at my father’s house.” I gestured toward the sprawling Victorian mansion. “The first floor is the store, and the living areas are the upper floors.” We got out of the car and entered the shop, the little bell tinkling above the door.
“Your father lives above a comic shop?” Sam asked.
“No, he owns the shop, and the rest of the place.” I looked at the shelves of graphic novels and racks of comics, feeling like I’d come home in more ways than one. “Dad? You around?”
“Wait, I thought your father was some kind of an athlete?” Sam asked. “Wasn’t he trying for a baseball scholarship and all?”
“Athletes can’t be well read?”
I turned around and saw my father exiting the storeroom. “Daddy,” I said as he hugged me so tight my feet left the floor. “I hope you don’t mind us just dropping in?”
“Mind a visit from my pumpkin? Never.” Dad set me down, and asked, “What brings you out to see your old man? Looking for rare Silver Age graphic novels?”
“Always,” I grinned. I grabbed Sam’s hand, and said, “Dad, this is Sam MacKellar.”
“The one from the text messages?” Dad asked.
“The very same,” I affirmed.
Dad smiled, and extended his arm. “Good to meet you, Sam,” Dad said, shaking Sam’s hand.
“Likewise,” Sam said. “I must say, Britt is the spitting image of you.”
“She sure is,” Dad said, rumpling my hair. “All my girls are O’Rourkes, through and through. Come on up, pumpkin, your sisters are just up from their nap.”
Dad locked the shop door and flipped the sign to closed, then he beckoned us back through the storeroom. “Is Emily home?” I asked.
“No, but Grandma is,” Dad said with a glance over his shoulder.
“Grandma? No way!”
I ran past Dad and up the creaky old steps toward the kitchen; no matter if it was her house or someone else’s my grandmother always took command of the kitchen. I burst through the door and found her pouring juice while my sisters toddled around her legs.
“Britt, honey,” Grandma said as we hugged, “it’s been too long.”
“I know,” I said. “Grandma, I brought home a boy.”
“Did you? Tell me all about him.”
***
An hour later found my grandmother, sisters, and I hanging out in the living room, having cookies and juice while my father gave Sam a tour of his shop. I had told Grandma everything about Sam, from how we met to his horrible traumas, to how he promised me nothing but honesty. Grandma’s eyes hardened when I told her about Sam’s lies, only to soften again when I relayed how he’d rescued me.
“Good Lord, without Sam I might have lost my grand baby,” Grandma said, her eyes shining as she clutched my hands. “That man has earned my undying gratitude.”
“Mine, too.” I looked at Penelope and Veronica, who were busily arranging plastic blocks on the floor. “Grandma, he asked me to marry him.”
“I hope you said yes,” Grandma said. “Men like him don’t come along often.”
“I did, Grandma,” I said. “Didn’t even hesitate.”
***
Sam and I spent the rest of the day at Dad’s house, my sisters climbing all over Sam while Gran
dma whipped up the equivalent of a full Sunday dinner. After stuffing our faces with pot roast, mashed potatoes, and caramel cake—okay, the twins just had cake—Dad cleared his throat and made an important announcement.
“So, Sam here asked me for permission to marry Britt,” Dad said. “Pumpkin, I want you to know I gave him my blessing…and I have a little gift to help you two out.”
Dad placed a little velvet box on the table, and I felt my heart plummet to the floor. Even though I knew what was inside, I reached out and opened it, my hands shaking the entire time. It was a platinum ring, the center stone a three-carat amethyst that was surrounded by no less than fifteen brilliant diamonds. I was certain of these details because I’d been with Dad when he bought it.
“Dad, this is the ring you bought for Mom,” I protested, shoving the box away. “We couldn’t.”
“Why not?” Dad countered. “It will look a lot better sitting on your finger than gathering dust in my sock drawer.”
“Why don’t you give it to Emily?” I asked.
Dad made a face. “That won’t be happening.” Well, thank God for that. One unlikable stepparent was more than enough. Dad reached across the table and took my hands. “Listen, pumpkin, I get the impression that Sam here loves you a great deal, easily as much as I loved your mother. If that’s the case, I can think of no better recipient of this ring than you.”
My eyes welled up, and I smiled. “Well, okay.”
Chapter
Thirty-One
Sam
Britt and I were at JFK, boarding passes in hand as we waited for our flight to be called. After a transfer in Chicago we’d be in Sioux City, and I would finally get to introduce my parents to the woman I was about to marry. I hoped Britt would get along with my father as well as I’d gotten on with hers.
Speaking of her father…“You really don’t think your daddy will be mad when he sees you wearing a different ring?” I asked.
“That ring belongs on my mother, no one else,” Britt replied. “Besides, this one is perfect.”
Britt spread her fingers and admired her engagement ring, and I admired it with her. While I’d appreciated her father’s gesture I just couldn’t bear the thought of someone else’s ring on my angel’s finger, so I cashed in some stock and bought her one on my own. After weeks of surreptitiously hitting up jewelry stores across Manhattan, I settled on a piece of estate jewelry. It was a four carat emerald in an Art Deco setting, with diamond baguettes framing the green stone. And yeah, it happened to match my gran’s bracelet to a tee.
“I’m so glad you like it, angel.”
Britt smiled. “I don’t like it. I love it.”
A voice came over the loudspeaker, announcing that our plane was ready to board. “Come on, angel,” I said as I hefted our carryon bags. “It’s our turn to fly.”
“Let’s do it,” she said, grabbing my hand. “I can’t wait to meet your parents.”
“The future is ours, angel,” I said as we queued up. “And as long as I’m with you, I know my life will be perfect.”
Britt stood on her toes and kissed my cheek. “I love you too.”
***The End***
Acknowledgements
Those of you that have read my other work might be a bit confused right now. I mean, this is a straight up romance with no elves or swords in sight; heck, there aren’t even any zombies. However, if there’s one thing any writer will tell you it’s that you have to write for the characters screaming the loudest.
In the case of Changing Teams, that was Sam. He originally appeared as a bit character in a horror short; even then he was a Midwestern photographer. Sam kept talking long after that piece was done, so I sat down for NaNoWriMo and told his story, beginning to end. I ended up finishing the first draft of Changing Teams—which clocked in at sixty-six thousand words—in nineteen days.
Not only was Sam talkative, he was demanding.
Then I, a fantasy and horror writer, had this contemporary romance on my hands and no idea what to do with it. Enter the Three Beta Readers Of Awesome: Cindy Thomas, Kelly Hager, and April Wood. Seriously guys, without you three this story would not be a tenth of what it is now. Thank you.
But they weren’t my only helpers. Trisha Wooldridge and Jennifer Carson are two amazing authors, and I’m lucky enough to call them friends. Without them I probably would have jumped off a bridge years ago. Neither Trisha nor Jenn ever let me give up, and they always pushed me to be the best writer possible.
Last but not least I need to thank the Wonder Twins, Ember and Robby, and my husband Robb for putting up with me writing yet another book, and all the revisions and deadlines and lack of Mom that came with it. Without you guys I really would be lost. Love you!
About the Author
Jennifer Allis Provost is a native New Englander who lives in a sprawling colonial along with her beautiful and precocious twins, a dog that thinks she’s a kangaroo, a parrot, a junkyard cat, and a wonderful husband who never forgets to buy ice cream. As a child, she read anything and everything she could get her hands on, including a set of encyclopedias, but fantasy was always her favorite. She spends her days drinking vast amounts of coffee, arguing with her computer, and avoiding any and all domestic behavior.
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