Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel (23 page)

She couldn’t figure out why Emily was so hurt when Emily and Brandon had a secret of their own. Wasn’t she entitled to a secret, too? She longed to confide in Emily, too, but she was now a little nervous about Emily’s comments on step-parenting and the fact Matt was a bit older than Amy was. It didn’t matter that much, did it?

Defending him to a member of her family was a bit different, too, especially since two weeks ago she would have agreed with Emily. She finally admitted to herself what she’d been running from ever since the moment she saw Matt in the hotel ballroom after Emily’s wedding.

“I want him,” she murmured. “I must be insane.”

Even if he acted like a caveman and tried to run her life, even if he bossed her around and meddled shamelessly, even if she occasionally longed to get her hands around his neck and squeeze, she couldn’t get past Matt. It wasn’t just the sex; she had to admit it was spectacular. It wasn’t how he looked, even though that helped. It was
him
—the maddeningly self-assured, frustratingly overprotective, irritatingly arrogant Matt, who was also deeply thoughtful, uproariously funny, overwhelmingly generous, and a loving, concerned father. He probably thought there wasn’t a woman alive who’d managed to figure out that he wanted nothing more than to be needed.

Even though Amy hated to admit it, she needed him.

Chapter Seventeen

O
NE WEEK LATER,
Matt and Amy pulled up in front of her parents’ house. It was a rare sunny spring day in Seattle. Birds were chirping, flowers were blooming, and Amy resisted the feeling of impending doom.

Matt reached out for her hand as they climbed the steps to her parents’ front door. He had a bottle of wine in the other hand. Matt’s insistence on meeting her parents was very sweet. It was also a very, very bad idea. Amy loved her mom and dad, but she’d seen how things could rapidly fall apart at the Sunday afternoon dinner table before.

She was fairly sure her parents were watching them approach the house. As a result, the explaining why she had turned and ran would be more difficult than just getting this over with.

“Nervous?” Matt gave her hand a squeeze.

“A little.”

“For God’s sake, Fifi, it’s just dinner. What could possibly go wrong?” He rang the doorbell.

“I can’t believe you asked me that.”

Matt let out a chuckle. “Flying Italian food . . .”

Amy’s mom pulled the front door open. “Sweetheart!” She threw her arms around Amy. “Come in!”

Amy found herself dragged over the threshold by her hundred-and-ten pound mom, who seemed to be a bit overexcited. Despite the fact they were divorced, Amy’s dad still appeared each Sunday for dinner with his ex-wife and their daughters. Amy typically brought whomever she’d been dating for more than a month to Sunday dinner, but her mom was acting like she hadn’t brought a guy home since the high school prom. Matt walked into the front hallway behind them and waited for Amy’s mom to quit hugging and kissing her.

Brandon and Emily were out of town today, too.

“It’s so good to see you. We’ve missed you,” her mother said.

Amy had seen both parents last week. Evidently, something was going on she didn’t understand. What else was new? Her mom finally backed off a little and extended her hand to Matt.

“You must be Amy’s guest.” She gave him a faint smile.

“Yes, I’m Matt Stephens.” He unleashed the full force of his dazzling smile, dimples, and charm, which were set to “stun,” on her. “You must be Amy’s mom. She is as beautiful as you are.” He took her hand in both of his. “It’s great to meet you.”

Meg Hamilton gave Matt an icily polite smile that Amy knew could mean only one thing: He’d managed to rub her mother the wrong way already, for some reason.

“Amy, why don’t you let your guest visit with your dad for a few minutes, and we’ll bring the food to the table.”

Meg clamped one hand around Amy’s forearm and pulled her down the hallway. Amy’s dad emerged from the family room.

“Hey, Matt, let’s sit down,” Amy heard him say as she was tugged past.

“Mom,” Amy said into her mother’s ear. “What’s going on?”

Meg rounded the corner to the kitchen, turned to face her daughter and said, “I do
not
like that man.”

Amy hadn’t seen her mom this upset over an introduction to a friend since she brought home a guy who informed everyone at the Sunday dinner table he thought the arts were a waste of taxpayer dollars. He and Amy’s relationship was over before her mom brought out dessert. The guy was lucky he made it out her parents’ front door before being stabbed with a fork.

“Why not? Mom, you just met him five minutes ago. I know he can be a little arrogant.”

“A
little
?” Her mother poked her finger in Amy’s belly for emphasis. “Amy Margaret, your sister has told me before that Mr. Stephens brings a whole new definition to the word arrogant.”

“Emily was the one who thought I should go out with Matt in the first place!” Amy exclaimed, but her mother cut her off.

“That can’t be true. Why are you seeing him? Can’t you go out with someone a bit more . . . We’d been hoping you’d meet someone else, but you’re dating
him
? Why don’t you want to go out with that nice Damian?”

Damian was another of Brandon’s former teammates. Brandon brought him to dinner a couple of months back; it was all Amy’s mother could talk about for weeks. She fell in love with him on the spot. Even better, she wanted to mother him, which Damian thought was wonderful. His own mother was across the country. Amy also knew Damian would go home with anyone who would feed him, but maybe it was best to keep that fact private.

“Damian’s pretty serious with the woman he’s dating right now. I don’t think he’s interested in me.”

Her mother shook her head and walked away from Amy. She opened the oven door and grabbed a couple of hot mats to retrieve the casserole inside, setting it on top of the oven to cool.

“What’s
that
?” Amy blurted out.

“It’s tuna tetrazzini,” her mother said. “You’ll like it.”

No, she wouldn’t, and she was willing to bet Matt and her dad weren’t going to be overly enamored of it, either. Prior to today, she’d never seen a can of tuna in anything her mother made.

“I know you think you don’t like Matt, but you made lasagna for Brandon the first time he came over.”

“That’s different,” her mother sniffed. “How could I feed something awful to my potential son-in-law?”

“Excuse me? When Brandon was here the first time, he and Emily weren’t really engaged, and you didn’t like him at first.”

“It was momentary.”

“
Mom
.” She made the conscious effort to lower her voice a bit. “You don’t even know Matt, so you’re going to feed him something that has a week’s worth of cholesterol and sodium, and he’ll miraculously disappear?” Amy shook her head in disbelief. “Dad’s doctor would have a fit, too. I can’t believe you’re doing this.”

Meg pushed a napkin-lined, wicker breadbasket into Amy’s abdomen.

“Go put this on the table. I’ll bring the rest in a few minutes.”

Amy knew her mom wasn’t going to answer her. She was also wondering if she needed to hire a food taster. She could hear Matt and her dad laughing about something in the other room. At least her dad seemed to like him. Her mom was bustling around the kitchen and ignoring her, so Amy hurried into to the dining room and surveyed the rest of the table.

At least there was a salad. Matt wouldn’t starve to death. Today’s calorie-fest meant Amy was going to spend the rest of the afternoon resisting the impulse to fall asleep, though.

Amy heard Matt’s heavy footfalls behind her, and his arm slid around her waist. She leaned against him. She could only imagine what he was going to think about the way her mom was acting, and an entrée she hadn’t had to force down since middle school hot lunch. Then again, maybe it was a good thing: If he was going to spook, this would just about do it.

“Hey, Fifi. Why don’t you c’mon in and sit with your dad and me for a few minutes? The baseball game’s on.”

“My mom probably needs some help.”
He had no idea.

Meg appeared with her casserole, and called out, “Honey! Dinner’s ready!” She put the baking dish down on the hot mat with a slight
bang
and seated herself at the table. She also managed to glare at Matt again. He gave her a gentle smile in response.

“Thanks for inviting me to dinner, Mrs. Hamilton.”

Meg made some kind of snorting noise.

Mark walked in and sat down in his chair. He took one look at the casserole and said cautiously, “Meg? Honey? You must be trying out a new recipe.”

“Hand me your plate, honey, and I’ll dish some up. It’s hot.”

Amy noted her dad looked a little confused, but he handed over his plate. “It looks delicious,” Matt said, and glanced across the table to Amy.

Meg barely resisted spewing the sip of water she’d taken across the table. She spooned casserole onto Mark’s plate and handed it back to him. Her evil plan was not only failing; her ex-husband, and now-fiancé, was looking at her as if she’d lost her grip.

Mark took a bite. The look on his face was indescribable. He managed to swallow, but picked up his water glass. “Of course, honey.”

Matt dug into the gigantic portion of casserole Amy’s mom put on his plate like he hadn’t eaten since last month. “It’s delicious,” he insisted between mouthfuls. Amy knew his stance on processed food. His nose was going to start growing any minute.

Matt’s face was the embodiment of innocence until Meg looked back down at her plate, and then he winked at Amy. Mark was pushing his dinner around with his fork. Amy took a bite. It tasted good, but she hadn’t eaten tuna in years. She could fill up on salad, and if she couldn’t, they could find something to eat on the way home.

Matt was polishing off his dinner, and doing everything in his power to charm Meg. Meg was having none of it.

Maybe it was time for a conference.

Amy shoved her chair back from the table. “Mom, I think we forgot something in the kitchen. Maybe we should go and get it.”

“No, no, sweetie. You go get it,” Meg said.

Amy reached out for her mom’s hand. “We’ll be back in a minute. Matt, Dad, do you need anything else while we’re gone?”

“I’d like some of that raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing your mom got at the store the other day,” her dad said.

The two men exchanged glances. Mark handed the salad bowl to Matt once more.

A
MY CORNERED HER
mom in the kitchen seconds later.

“Mom, what are you doing?” she stage-whispered. “Brandon must have mentioned to you that Matt’s one of his best friends.”

“Brandon has obviously been hit in the head one too many times, hasn’t he?” her mother hissed.

Amy couldn’t help it. Despite her embarrassment and frustration at her mom’s behavior, she laughed.

“Does Emily know this is what you think about her one true love?”

“Don’t sass me, Amy Margaret. There are other men. Better men. You should find one of them.”

There was an expression in Amy’s mother’s eyes she’d never seen before. Meg was trying so hard to find fault with Matt, and Matt had been at his most charming since he set foot in her parents’ house. She had to know she was fighting a losing battle, especially since Amy’s dad and Matt bonded like old college buddies almost instantaneously.

“Mom, what if I like
him
? I want to keep seeing him.” Mother and daughter stared at each other. “Please. Just give him a chance. If you still don’t like him, I’ll deal, but Mom, he didn’t have to come over here and meet you and Daddy. He wanted to.”

Her mother stared at the floor for a minute or so. She folded her lips together. Finally, she glanced up at Amy. “Okay.” She let out a sigh. “If he says anything about teaching the arts in public schools being a waste of taxpayer dollars, though, all bets are off.”

Amy gave her mom a gentle hug. “Got it.”

Meg reached inside the refrigerator, grabbed the bottle of salad dressing, and marched back into the dining room.

M
ATT PICKED UP
the bottle of pinot gris when they sat back down at the table and said, “Mrs. Hamilton, would you like a glass of wine?”

“Yes, I would, and Matt, please call me ‘Meg,’” her mother said.

“I’d love to,” he said. Her mom actually smiled at him. Amy stifled a sigh of relief.

“How did you and Amy meet?” Mark asked Matt.

Mark loaded his plate up with the remainder of the salad, and used a good amount of the raspberry vinaigrette over it. Amy noticed his serving of casserole was almost untouched.

“That’s a funny story, Mark.” Matt’s smile was warm. “Amy and I met after Emily’s wedding. She was having a couple of drinks.”

“I was not,” Amy protested. “I was having
a
drink.”

Meg’s head snapped up from her plate.

“Of course you were—”

Meg cut Matt off.

“We tried to call your room, and you didn’t answer. Amy Margaret, what were you doing?”

Matt glanced up from his plate and caught Amy’s eye. She could read his mind:
Amy Margaret,
huh?

“Mom. Everything was fine. I had a couple of drinks at the bar, Matt made sure I got back to my room safely, and then he left. It was nice of him to watch over me.”

That wasn’t the whole story, but if Amy’s mother ever found out what really happened that night on the hotel balcony, they’d have to call 911. Meg was studying Matt with now-wary eyes. After all, he was evidently some kind of corrupting influence, and she wasn’t happy about it.

“So, I made sure Amy was safely in her room for the rest of the night. After that, I spent three weeks persuading her to go out with me.”

“Three weeks?” her father said.

The previously distrustful look on Meg’s face was replaced with warmth. “You must think she’s pretty special,” her mother said. For the first time since Matt walked into her parents’ house, Meg gave him a heartfelt smile.

“Yes, Meg, she is. I’m very happy she finally said yes.”