The All-Star Antes Up
Page 102

She also needed to take a break from the Sunday afternoon football game in which, according to her brother, Luke was moving better than he had before his injury.
“He’s playing like the old days, like he’s enjoying it. He must have needed the week’s rest,” Dennis said before Patty glared at him and he threw Miranda an apologetic look.
Theo had gone back to school on Thursday, the hired hand had returned to work on Saturday, and Dennis had helped with today’s early milking. So Miranda was headed back to New York tomorrow morning to restart her job on the evening shift. Sebastian had been thrilled to hear she was returning, and she’d written the Anglethorpes a heartfelt letter of thanks.
However, even her good fortune on the work front couldn’t dull the pain of Luke’s rejection. She still suspected he’d been involved in Orin’s disgrace in some way, but she would never know for sure.
This was supposed to be her time to relax and unwind, but she’d forgotten about her family’s devotion to the Empire. She couldn’t ruin their pleasure by refusing to watch the game. They might feel guilty enough to turn it off.
After Luke and his all-star crew left on Tuesday, Patty had turned to Miranda and said, “Well, I was sure wrong. You weren’t just entertainment for him.”
Miranda had shaken her head. “He came up to make it clear that our relationship is over. He milked the cows so he wouldn’t feel too guilty about it.”
“He didn’t look at you like it was over.”
He hadn’t kissed her like it was over, either. But then he’d pushed her away and into the arms of an imaginary lover, even when she’d made a fool of herself and told him she loved him. She swallowed to clear the clot of desolation that was stuck in her throat. “Honestly, I don’t know why he went to all that trouble. All I can tell you is that he was very definite about ending it. So I really don’t want to discuss it anymore.”
“I understand, honey. Topic closed.” And Patty had kept her promise.
Miranda puttered in the kitchen, refolding the dish towel, refilling the napkin holder, and wiping up a scattering of crumbs from some earlier sandwich making. Then she just stared out the window as the aroma of fresh popcorn wafted by her nostrils. She should take it into the family room before it got cold, but she was having a hard time not watching for the blue jersey with the number nine on it. And when she saw it, despair would fill her up like cold tears.
“Miranda! Get in here! Quick!” Dennis and Patty’s voices mingled, their urgency unmistakable.
Abandoning the popcorn bowl, Miranda bolted for the family room, sure that Luke had been injured in some horrible way.
She skidded to a stop, her gaze skittering from the broad grins on her family’s faces to the television screen.
Luke’s face was front and center, surrounded by a forest of microphones with colorful network logos on them. His damp hair was slicked back from his face, and his pads made his shoulders look so broad he could carry the world on them.
“Thanks for helping me out,” he said with a nod to the offscreen reporters surrounding him. “Miranda Tate, I hope someone has fetched you so you’re watching this broadcast by now.” He paused, his face solemn. “Sugar, I’ve made some bad calls in my life, but walking away from you was the worst fumble ever. Maybe I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking you to forgive me and give me a chance to make it up to you.”
A bleak shadow darkened his eyes. “But I’ll understand if you can’t see your way to doing that.” He nodded again. “That’s all.”
There was a cacophony of questions with Miranda’s name repeating throughout them, but Luke reiterated his thanks and vanished into the dressing room, where the reporters weren’t allowed at halftime.
Miranda stood staring at the screen. She felt as though she’d been picked up, turned upside down, shaken, and then set back on her feet by a large, blond quarterback. Her head spun, and her heart felt as though it would pound itself right out of her chest.
“You record all the games, right?” she said to Dennis. “Play that again.”
She listened to the incredible, unbelievable words, but she also caught the tension in his jaw and the uncertainty in his eyes. Was it because he thought she wouldn’t respond, or because he wasn’t sure he should say this?
But Patty was whooping and hugging her. “I knew it!” Her sister-in-law pulled away, still holding Miranda’s shoulders. “We have to get you there. Dennis, you stay here with Theo while I drive Miranda to the stadium.”
“Are you kidding me?” Dennis jumped up from the couch. “Theo and I are coming, too. I want to see my little sis looking happy again.”
“Wait, we don’t have tickets,” Miranda said. “So we can’t even get into the stadium. I can’t call Luke during the game.”
“Why not? He was willing to go on national TV to ask you to forgive him. Leave a message. Someone will answer it.” Patty did a little jig before heading for the hallway where the coats hung.
“Didn’t that PR lady give you her cell-phone number?” Dennis asked, taking her by the elbow and towing her toward the front door. “Call her from the car. We don’t have time to mess around here.”
Theo trotted along behind them. “Is Aunt Miranda going to kiss Luke Archer?”
“I sure hope so,” Patty said.
“Ew! Football players shouldn’t kiss people.” Theo shrugged into the jacket his mother held out as they all trundled out the door.