Page 36 of Playing for Keeps

“True,” I say. We head through the dim hallways in the bowels of the stadium and I tell him I’m bringing a bottle of Maker’s Mark to hold onto for the Super Bowl celebration. I need to pick up flowers too. It’s cornball as hell, but I don’t know a woman alive who wouldn’t melt ten degrees for a dozen roses. Except maybe Chloe. I wonder what she would think about getting flowers from a blind date. It’s impossible to say what her reaction would be—she could go either way and guessing would be half the fun. I mentally scoff.

In a rush to get out of the stadium to my car and rid myself of all thoughts of Chloe, I trot through the hall and out of the exit.

I need this blind date bad. Real bad.

* * *

First to arriveat Hunter and Cat’s East Boston home, I sit at the island in their slick kitchen and watch them cook while I sip my mineral water. Cat is valiantly making an effort to put together her version of chicken parm. Growing up in the family’s restaurant business, I know all about cooking, especially Italian, but I’m not about to interfere, not even if she asks.

Of course, she asks. “Tate, can you taste this sauce for me?”

“I’m sure it’s fine.”

“No really, I need an expert opinion. Tell me if it needs anything and be honest.” Cat holds out a spoonful of sauce in front of my face and I have no choice but to take it from her, so I do. Tasting the marinara, I maintain a smile.

“It’s good.” I’m not lying.

“What does it need?” She sees right through me, her hands on her hips and a threatening look on her face. She’s holding a wooden spoon and I’ve been hit by one of those in a kitchen more than once as a kid.

“The only thing it might need is a couple more hours on the stove simmering.”

“Shit. We don’t have time for that.”

Hunter says, “It’s only six o’clock. We leave it on the stove and serve appetizers and salad and it’ll be done by the time we serve dinner.”

“Problem solved,” I say, giving her my most encouraging smile. My fingers tap the countertop and I ask, “What time is everyone getting here?”

Cat puts her hand over my fingers to stop the tapping and says, “She’ll be here at six thirty. Sure you don’t want some red wine?”

“The thing about having a glass of red wine is that it’s never just one glass. I’ll end up drinking three more glasses with my meal and I’ll wake up dehydrated tomorrow.”

“Sounds like this wisdom has come from experience, so I won’t tempt you again,” she says.

“Fontanna never could hold his liquor.” Hunter says.

I raise my middle finger at him.

The back door opens and Gabe walks into the kitchen with Mia on his arm like he’s family. The shot of wistfulness goes through me like it always does when I see Mia and my mouth turns up automatically. I should think of her as the one who got away since Gabe was supposed to fix her up with me. But she was never mine, not even for one kiss. She’d always been Gabe’s and it was clear Gabe had always wanted her in spite of himself and his insane notion that a serious relationship would kill his game, take away from his relentless drive.

We slap each other on the back by way of greeting and Hunter hands out glasses of wine like water. Mia gives me the hug of a true friend. Before anyone has a chance to sit down, there’s a knock at the back door. Gabe answers it like he’s the butler and Sean Patrick walks in with his date.

She’s a va-voom knockout who’s taller than him and he’s not a short man. Looking her over, I’m proud for not letting my eyes fall out of their sockets. At some point this evening, I know I’m going to ask her how high her heels are. They’re even taller than the spikes I’ve seen Chloe wearing.

And now I need to promise myself that will be the last thought I think about Chloe Smith tonight. I need to devote myself to my blind date because she’ll save me from being taunted by a damn reporter. Whoever my date is, she has to be better for me than Smitty. I’ll focus on the mystery woman and shower her with so much attention she’ll propose to me by morning.

“This is Lydia,” Sean says. “She plays volleyball for Arizona University. She’s here for a few weeks with her team, teaching a clinic.”

“That explains things,” Cat says. “If you’re of age, I’ll offer you a glass of wine.”

“Oh yes, I’m old enough to drink. I’m twenty-two,” Lydia says. “In fact that’s how Sean and I—”

“Let’s save that story for later, honey,” Sean interrupts. He turns to me and asks, “Where’s your date?”

“She’ll be here,” I say.

Cat says, “I asked her to come later than the rest of you.”

“To stage some kind of grand entrance for the guest of honor?” I shake my head. Sean renews his trash talk about the bet about whether I end up taking her home with me and Gabe ups the ante. Hunter says he has to play like Switzerland to preserve his health and that of others. Cat has that I just ate a fresh canary look and I try and juice up my enthusiasm.