Page 29 of Love Everlasting

“Jack never comes to Cat’s games anymore. She’s in two leagues, so nobody can keep up except me.”

“But … what about dinner?”

Shannon almost laughed out loud at the deprived look on his face.

Ah … so this is what it’s like having a little boy! She swept past him at the door, making a beeline for the parking lot. “Hot dogs and Diet DP works for me, big boy, how ’bout you?”

His grunt pretty much confirmed he didn’t agree, but he didn’t have a choice. She may be coerced into a friendship with a notorious heartbreaker, but it didn’t mean it had to be on his terms.

“Do they at least have corndogs?” he asked, a hint of a sulk in his tone.

“You bet, and cheese dogs, chili dogs, and even a Coney dog, although I won’t vouch for the state of your stomach an hour later.”

“Can’t be much worse than it is now,” he muttered, “worrying over Jazz.” He hooked her arm as they neared the parking lot, steering her to his Corvette. “I’ll drive.”

She glanced up after he opened the door, sliding into the leather bucket seat as if she belonged there. “Hey, what happened to being ‘high on success and cappuccino’?”

He grunted again before closing her door and circling, his smile off-center as he got in on the other side. “Corn dog indigestion, setting in early.”

Shannon slowly stretched back in the seat to the mellow sounds of Keith Urban’s “Making Memories of Us,” keenly aware they were making memories of their own, she and Sam. As friends. The idea wrapped around her like the rich, honey sound of Keith Urban’s melody, easing the tension from her bones. “You like country music?” she asked with a lift of brows, expecting the Memorial heartthrob to crank up clubbing music like Usher or Rihanna.

He slipped her a sideways smile. “We’ll let that be our little secret, okay? I do have a reputation to protect after all.” Easing the Vette out of the parking lot, he seemed to loosen up, one hand relaxed on the shift lever while he drove with the other. “Country music just seems … homier to me, you know? More Mom and apple pie.” His mouth swagged to the right. “Which considering I never had a real mom, seems to fill the bill.”

Against her will, her heart cramped, reminding her once again that Sam’s upbringing was anything but normal, explaining a little bit more each time they were together just why he was the way that he was.

A player desperate for love.

A person desperate for approval.

And a man desperate for peace.

Instead of talking about himself and Jasmine, he surprised her by peppering her with questions about her upbringing on the short ride to the ball fields. She readily complied, suspecting he was hungry to hear about what a real family was like, a close-knit family where faith was front and center. According to Jack, Sam had no family, much less any real exposure to faith, which was one of the reasons Jack had reached out to him during their residency despite their keen competition over women.

“The poor guy’s a virtual orphan,” Jack had told them once, “with no living relatives except some drunk of a dad who never married his mom.” Shannon remembered being heartbroken for Sam at the time, even before she’d ever met him.

When they were seated at the top of the bleachers with hot dogs, corn dogs, French fries, and drinks, Sam went silent while they ate their dinner, his gaze fixed on the softball game in a dead stare. It wasn’t until he wadded up his trash that he finally broached what was on his mind.

“She wants to be friends,” he said quietly, even though there was no way people three rows below could hear given the whooping and shouting over a close play at the plate. He stared straight ahead, munching on his third corn dog while he watched a game he probably wasn’t seeing.

Shannon studied his somber profile, drawn as always to the serious side of Sam Cunningham, the real man behind the pretense. “But that’s a good thing, right?”

He turned halfway, lips curving in a sad smile. “Yeah, it is, even though it’s light years from where I want to be.”

She tipped her head. “Ah, yes, but light years from where you were, yes?”

“Yes, indeed.” He slid her a sideways grin as he tweaked her neck, both his touch and the affection in his eyes sputtering her pulse. “And all because of you. She actually said she missed talking to me and she’s glad we can be friends.”

“Well, I’d say that’s definite progress, Dr. Love.” Shannon popped the rest of her hot dog in her mouth and balled up the wrapper and napkin.

“I’ll say. We were on such good terms when she left that she even promised to bring me back these special cigars she knows I like from her trip to the Bahamas.” Sam took the trash from her hands and tucked it in the cardboard drink carrier along with his own before setting it aside. “So, Coach, I’m definitely going to see her again, and I need the game plan before I do.”

Shannon leaned back, arms braced to the bleacher seat as she peered at him out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure you’re up to the challenge, Ham? Because we have some big work to do.”

“I beg your pardon.” Sam squeezed her leg muscle right above the knee, making her squeal. “There isn’t a challenge you can issue, Angel Eyes, that I can’t handle with ease.”

“All right, hotshot, we’ll just see about that.” She leaned back again, eyes on the game. “You’re going to have to convince Jazz that she’s the only woman for you. And that you’re willing to wait.”

“Piece of cake,” Sam said, the self-assurance in his tone causing a smile to tickle her lips.