Unfortunately, Jazz was not only an important part of that image, she was the one woman who’d managed to make him care despite his “player” charade—that careful façade that had both bolstered his confidence and kept rejection at bay.
Until Jazz.
The one challenge he had yet to conquer.
His mouth tamped in a tight line. And he’d never walked away from a challenge yet. Without thinking, he downed his cappuccino in a series of scalding glugs, as if it were the whiskey with which he’d numbed the pain at the Memorial fundraiser. Slamming the cup on the table, he shoved it away, his voice taking on an edge. “But, it is what it is,” he said, huffing out a noisy sigh. He peered up. “Now I just need to figure out how to get it back to what it ‘was.’”
Serious blues eyes stared back, soft and serene, reminding him just why he’d nicknamed her Angel Eyes. “How about … to what it could be instead?” she said quietly, and his pulse hitched hard for several precarious seconds, the impact of her words as loud as if she’d blasted them through a megaphone.
He sat straight up, adrenaline pumping through his veins along with the caffeine. “Yeah … yeah, that’s exactly what I want.” Shaking his head over the brilliance of her statement, he fanned fingers through his hair with an open-mouthed smile, wondering how on earth he’d managed without a female friend like Shannon all of this time. “I mean, that wasn’t what I was after in the beginning, I’ll admit. I just wanted what we had before—a nice, cozy relationship with lots of fun. But since I’ve lost her twice now, it’s been like a kick in the head, you know? Making me realize just how much I care about her and want her in my life.”
He grinned outright, the revelation escalating his mood as much as the cappuccino. “I never even thought about it being any better.” Tunneling his hand through the curls at the back of his head, it latched there as he stared at her in awe. “I swear, Shannon, you’re amazing. One sentence. One mind-blowing sentence, and you change everything for me, parsing it down to something so startlingly simple.”
Those blue eyes softened with sympathy. “Not so simple, Sam, because it means you have to change in order for the relationship to change.”
“I can do that,” he said with the utmost confidence, jaw firm. “If I can put myself through med school and college, score a spot in Augustine’s practice—the chief pediatrician at Memorial—and compete in an Iron Man Triathlon, I can do this.” He glanced at his watch. “And I’ll start tonight when Jasmine comes over to pick up a swimsuit she left and the rest of her things. All I need is your input as to what you think I should say and do.”
A twinkle lit in her eyes. “Uh, we’re talking a major overhaul, Dr. Love,” she said with a patient smile, “and one hour over coffee and tea isn’t going to cut it.”
“My thoughts, exactly.” He rose and pushed in his chair. “But two or three will at least get me started and hopefully prevent me from making a fool of myself tonight.” He cleared the trash from the table and pitched it in the receptacle before hooking her arm to pull her up. “So … how are you at miniature golf?”
Shannon blinked, snatching up her tea before he pushed in her chair. “Pardon me?”
He gave her a lopsided smile as he tugged her toward his car. “I’ve had five cappuccinos, and I’m ready to jump out of my skin, kiddo, so I need to do something active while you give me advice on how to handle tonight.” He paused, eyes in a squint. “You are good, aren’t you?”
“At advice?” Eyes wide, the heels of her Nikes seemed to drag across the asphalt.
“No, I already know that. At miniature golf.” Opening the passenger side of his car, he winked, leg slacked while he waited for her to get in. “I learn best when crushing competition.”
Mouth unhinged, she perched a hand on her hip, challenge luring a smile to her lips. “Good, because I advise best when crushing pride.”
He grinned, palm extended to invite her to get in. “Then crush on, Teach, because I’ve got an awful lot to learn.”
“Yeah, me too,” Shannon said, her smile taking a slant when he closed her door. “Like how to say ‘no.’”
Sam chuckled as he strode around his car to get in on the other side. “Now, you know you don’t mean that, because this will be fun. Besides,” he said, glancing over his shoulder before easing out of his spot. He gave her a wink. “Something tells me this could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
Chapter Fourteen
A beautiful friendship? Shannon stifled a grunt as she watched Sam bag a hole-in-one on the third hole.
“Score!” He swooped his ball out of the cup with a little-boy grin that scored more than his stupid hole-in-one.
Yeah, a real beautiful friendship. For Dr. Love, maybe, but for me? Shannon recorded his score on the tally sheet with a quiet sigh. Not so much. Not when the man she swore to avoid forever had railroaded her into having fun with him, laughing with him, seeing him in a light that didn’t bode well for her heart.
In a mere thirty minutes at Putt ‘N Stuff golf, she’d seen a side of the “player” that not only surprised her, but alarmed her as well. Whether opening car doors for her or guiding her with a protective hand to the small of her back, to shamelessly flirting with the elderly cashier or paying for Carol Green’s mini-golf with her three grandsons—Shannon soon understood Sam was a person who thrived on serving others. Jack had told her as much, but she’d let the player reputation sour her opinion of a man who mentored foster kids and coached basketball for inner city youth. It didn’t take long to see he had a way of making everyone feel special, and in a clutch of her heart, Shannon finally understood one reason why. Because the little boy inside—the abandoned orphan lost in the foster-care shuffle—wanted to feel special too.
“Hey, awesome shot, Sam!” one of Carol’s grandsons said whose mini-golf game he’d paid for. His brothers and Grandma Carol quickly echoed their approval, and Sam grinned like he’d just won the U.S. Open.
“So, Teach,” he said as he ambled back, club over his shoulder, “how should I handle tonight? You know, when Jazz comes over?”
“How do you want to handle it?” she asked, strolling to the next tee.
He grunted. “By ignoring her, but she has a key, so it’s too late to change the locks.”
Shannon assessed the obstacles on the green before taking her stance, feet a shoulder width apart as she eyed the hole. “Interaction is important, Sam, and you don’t have many other opportunities to talk to her, do you?”
“Just on rounds twice a week since she’s a Peds nurse at Memorial, then sometimes weekends when I’m on call. But not often unless she comes into the office to see her dad or I run into her at Memorial hangouts.”
With a putt fine-tuned in high school golf class and backyard sessions with Jack, Shannon sailed the ball smoothly over a hump to bank off the back edge, missing the hole by six inches or more. She wrinkled her nose. “Then you have to take advantage of this opportunity,” she called over her shoulder as she finished the hole with a birdie. “How have you reacted to her in the past when you’ve run into her after she’s broken it off?”
“Hey, nice one, kiddo.” Club over his shoulder, he cocked a hip, one hand buried in his pocket while his smile faded into a scowl. “I usually give her the cold shoulder till she needs one to cry on, and then I cave because I can’t stand to see her unhappy.”
Shannon retrieved her ball, wondering how a guy with such a soft heart could so casually toy with the hearts of so many women. She halted halfway on the mini-green, a sudden thought taking her so by surprise, she actually grinned outright. “Well, then …” she said as she approached with a reflective grate of her lip, suddenly realizing just how valuable Sam could be in the novel she was ghostwriting. Love Everlasting was book three in a trilogy by one of her publisher’s top-selling authors, but the poor woman had had a breakdown and couldn’t write a word. So now Shannon was on the hot seat with a skeletal synopsis about a playboy and a princess. Adrenal
in coursed as she suddenly saw Sam in a whole new light, wondering if God was trying to kill two birds with one stone: saving Sam along with Shannon’s sketchy manuscript. She paused in front of him, almost giddy over the research that he could provide. “Then let’s introduce her to the new Sam, shall we?”
He squinted while he recorded her score. “I don’t know, Shan—I’m kind of fond of the old one.”
Her smile canted as she strolled back to check out the tally. “Yeah, well, whose fondness you looking for, Doc—yours or Jasmine’s?”
“Okay, I’ll give you that one.” He handed her the scorecard before teeing up, besting her birdie with another hole in one and a cocky smile. “But the mini-golf win is all mine.”
She logged in his score, peering up with a scrunch of her nose. “Gosh, Doc, between your inflated ego and jugular competitive streak, we may never find the other Sam.”
“We have to, Shannon—my life depends on it.”
She glanced up, the sobriety of his tone stilling her hand on the scorecard. The serious Sam was back—his faint smile at odds with the solemnity in his eyes.
Her heart softened. “It does, Sam, more than you know. Women want men with depth and values, not fast cars and fancy moves. They want a man they can respect. That’s the main way a woman falls in love. Prove to Jazz you’ve changed and are worth her love and respect.”
“And how do I do that?” he asked quietly, probing her with a look that said golf was suddenly the last thing on his mind.
She sighed, well aware there was only one way she knew for a person to really change, and she wasn’t sure Sam was ready to hear it. But he needed to—badly—and for the first time ever, she actually understood why God might want her to become his friend. An honest-to-goodness friend who put aside her own desires to impact someone else with the truth. In the slow blink of Sam’s eyes, she felt her perspective shift, suddenly seeing beyond the expensive clothes, good looks, and effortless charm to a man whose life truly did depend on what Shannon could give.
Faith.
And what Sam could give as well, the counter thought came.
Heartbreak.
Shaking the fear off, she jotted his score and handed the card back, her mind made up to be the person God had called her to be. Not a woman attracted to or repelled by a player she’d hoped to avoid, or even a ghostwriter desperate for research. Nope. But someone who had a chance to impact that player for good and change not only his life, but his eternity as well. A mission to mend the badly bruised heart of a rejected little boy, who drew his confidence and love from perishable things.
Warn the rich people of this world not to be proud or to trust in wealth that is easily lost. Tell them to have faith in God ...
Shannon studied him now, this self-assured man whose very confidence was as much a façade as the image he strove to project and knew God had graced her with his trust. The trust of a man who didn’t trust—or open up—to many people. A golden opportunity to lay down her own fears and insecurities for the sake of another, opting to trust the very God she espoused with her own vulnerable heart.
Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one's life for one's friends.
“How do you do it?” she repeated, awed by the peace that suddenly flooded her soul. “You do it by learning to respect and love yourself, Sam, seeing yourself through God’s eyes rather than through your own shallow trappings.”
His gaze was wary. “Religion? You’re really going to play that card with me?”
“It’s not a card, Sam,” she said softly, “it’s a lifestyle that can not only help you win the game, but the very desires of your heart.”
His low chuckle vibrated the air as he shook his head. “I’m not looking to warm a pew, Teach; I’m just looking for how I should handle Jazz tonight.”
She tilted her head to assess him in that point-blank manner that always seemed to penetrate his charm and pretense. “Which, you would learn in that pew if you decided to warm it. But the basics? Forgive her, treat her with kindness, be there for her as a friend without strings attached.” She patted his face with a parental air, his sandpaper jaw reminding her he wasn’t that little boy she often saw beneath the surface. “Unconditional love, Doc, the kind that God gave to us.”
“And that really works?” He squinted at her, disbelief crinkling his brows.
Her smile indulged. “Worked for me, big boy, and the Good Book says ‘love never fails.’”
He cut loose with a grunt. “Yeah, well you can’t prove it by me.”
“That’s because your love is self-absorbed and self-serving,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone.
His jaw fell open. “Gosh, Shan, why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
“I’m trying,” she said with a squirm of a smile. Teeing her ball, she glanced up to see the wounded look he always teased her with that was more real than anyone knew. Her smile broke through, honest and tender and sweet for a friend she suspected she would come to care for a lot. “Because one of my most annoying qualities is telling my friends the truth, Sam, so I always will.” The affection in his eyes suddenly fluttered her stomach, and cheeks growing warm, she quickly looked away to focus her gaze on the ball, palms suddenly sticky on the club.
At least, most of the time ...
Chapter Fifteen
“Soooo, Daddy … I’ve been dying to ask. How did it go with Tess?”
Ben looked up, smiling despite the question that annoyed. Lacey looked like his little girl again, legs tucked to her chest as she leaned against Jack on the back seat of Ben’s Formula while they bobbed in the ocean. Arms circling her knees, she worried her lip, obviously dying to ask since she’d returned from their vacation on Sunday. Especially since he’d told them about his marina debacle with Tess right before they left.
Jack chuckled and tweaked the back of her neck. “Uh, maybe your dad’s not ready to talk about it, Lace. Ever think about that?”
Ben cut loose with a weighty sigh as he sat on the other side, one arm draped over the leather back while he sipped an O’Doul’s with the other. As always, his black lab, Beau, snored at his feet. “No, I actually do want to talk about it, Jack, because I think I may need some counsel.” He cuffed the back of his neck to deflect his embarrassment over a cardiac surgeon in his forties seeking advice on his love life from two kids. Particularly when those kids were his own daughter and the son-in-law whose mother he loved. He expelled another awkward breath as he gave Lacey a sheepish look, feeling a lot like he was back in high school. “Well, I guess you could say it went better than the marina, but not by much.”
“What do you mean?” Lacey asked, a pucker of concern ridging her brow.
His smile thinned, Tess’s limitation of their time together since their negotiations a week ago putting a crimp in his mood. “I mean Tess has certain” —against his will, heat crawled up the back of his neck— “‘conditions’ before she’ll allow us to pick up from where we left off.”
“Conditions?” Jack frowned, the male in him obviously balking like Ben had.
“Yeah.” Ben set his beer aside, hands clasped between parted knees. “She wants me to clear the air with Cam.”
Lacey winced, shoulders in a scrunch as she gritted her teeth in a commiserative smile. “Gosh, Daddy, that won’t be easy. Uncle Cam thinks your middle name is Lucifer.”
It was Ben’s turn to wince, well aware there was plenty of bad blood between Cam and him over the miserable husband he’d been to Cam’s sister, ruining her life. His jaw hardened. And given the way Phillips was hanging all over Tess when they’d entered Marv’s office, he could probably times that by two. His mouth shifted sideways. “Thanks, Lace—good to know, although it’s not much of a surprise.”
“You said ‘conditions.’” Jack absently raked his nails up and down Lacey’s arm, brows knit over eyes dark with concern. “More than one?”
Ben upended his O’Doul’s, almost wishing it were a real brew rather than the non-b
eer Tess had badgered him into. “Yep, only two, but the second one is a real doozy.” His smile tasted as flat as the beer. “She wants us to be friends.”
Lacey’s brows shot straight up. “You and Uncle Cam?”
“Yep, ol’ Lucifer and the Admiral,” Ben said with a hoist of his bottle, “as thick as the noose Tess put around my neck.”
“Oh, Daddy …” Lacey tugged her lower lip with her teeth, hazel eyes so like his own warm with sympathy. “I’m sure Tess will be fine with you just forgiving him and clearing the air, don’t you think?”
“Ha!” Jack’s jibe said it all. “Not the Tess I know.” He shook his head with a grimace. “Mom’s like a steel trap when it comes to ‘conditions.’ Just try and slip out, and you’re likely to lose a leg.”
“Or your heart,” Ben muttered, his gaze drifting out over the water in a dead stare.
“Yeah, knowing Mom, she’s probably playing hardball.” Jack’s sigh carried on the breeze. “No compliance? No dinner, fishing, friends, or whatever else we wanted. Growing up, it was Mom’s way or the highway, so I don’t envy you, sir.”
Ben managed a faint smile at Jack still calling him “sir” after almost nine months of marriage to Lacey. But then Ben hadn’t been around since the wedding when Jack and Lacey moved into his house to dog-sit Beau. “Me either, Jack.” His smile took a twist. “She’s sticking to her guns on no dating or official get-togethers till her conditions are met, which relegates me to phone calls, texts, or stolen moments if I’m lucky enough to catch her out on the patio. Which is why I need your help—both of you.”
“Anything,” Jack said, their relationship considerably warmer now than years ago when Ben considered Jack no more than a punk who dated his rebellious daughter. “Just name it.”
Head bowed, Ben peered up beneath a half-lidded gaze. “I know you two probably see Mamaw and Cam on a regular basis, so I was hoping Lacey could enlist Mamaw’s help in both praying I can clear the air with Cam and putting a bug in Cam’s ear that he needs to do the same.”