Read Online Rushing Amy: A Love and Football Novel by Julie Brannagh - Free Book Online Page A

like it when I date.”
    Amy tried to pretend like she wasn’t listening.
    “Well, I’ll make sure we get that order out right away. A dozen pink roses to Mary Margaret, and a card reading, “We’ll always have Paris.” Amy will put the charges on your statement. Thanks for thinking of us. It’s such a thrill to talk to you.” More giggles and blushing ensued.
    Amy resisted the impulse to lean over the garbage can in her workroom and barf. Estelle hung the phone up with a bang. “He’s charming, isn’t he?” She fanned herself with one hand.
    “He’s a lower life form.” Amy snipped off some greenery in a savage fashion and pictured doing the same to Matt’s neck. She realized with a shock that she was jealous. Maybe she should have answered the phone herself.
    “If I didn’t have a husband and some grandkids at home,” Estelle sang out, “I would have taken him up on it. I’ve seen him on NFL Today . Norm thinks I’m watching the game, but I’m looking at the men. Wait till he hears he has a rival for my affections. Matt Stephens? My girlfriends won’t believe this.” She pushed her reading glasses up her nose and moved away to grab another bunch of daisies out of the bucket for the latest delivery order.
    Mary Margaret. Who the hell was she ?

 
    Chapter Six
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    A MY SLUMPED OVER her worktable the next morning from sheer exhaustion. She’d delivered Matt’s latest bouquet on her way home from work the afternoon before. It turned out that Mary Margaret was actually Sister Mary Margaret, one of Matt’s teachers in the parochial school he’d attended. She’d taught him French. Allegedly.
    Sister Mary Margaret pulled the card out of the bouquet, peered at it through thick glasses, and let out a soft laugh. “That Matthew Stephens is as naughty as he was in school. Wait until his mother hears about this.”
    The sister was also a very persuasive woman. After a long, appreciative sniff of the flowers she’d received, she set down the vase containing Matt’s dozen roses on an occasional table inside the front door of the retirement home she lived in.
    “It’s nice to meet you, Amy. I wonder if an old nun could ask you for a favor.” Her faded blue eyes sparkled as she took Amy’s hand in hers. “Do you have plans for the evening?”
    “No, no. Not at all,” Amy stammered. The only thing on tonight’s schedule was laundry. “What do you need?”
    “It’s almost dinner time, and we’re short one server. If you’ll help us with the dinner service, I’ll introduce you to some more of Matthew Stephens’ former teachers. I’m sure you’ll enjoy their stories.” Sister Mary Margaret was surprisingly strong for an older woman. She slipped her hand through Amy’s arm, pulling her toward what Amy imagined must be the community dining room. “We’ll get you an apron and a hair net. Plus, it’s spaghetti and meatball night, which everyone’s always excited about. It’ll be fun.”
    Amy spent the next couple of hours serving dinner and helping to clean up afterward. She forgot her exhaustion after a long day in the shop when she realized how happy those in the facility were to spend even a few minutes chatting and laughing with a younger person. She couldn’t say no when they offered to teach her how to play pinochle, either.
    She didn’t make it home until after eleven o’clock that night. She was up at five the next morning to go to the flower wholesaler’s.
    T HE NEXT MORNING, Amy was in desperate need of a nap. The wholesaler’s bill was the size of the national debt. It was only ten o’clock, and Estelle wouldn’t be in for another hour. The phone rang again. She was in the midst of cleaning a new shipment of roses, and she clutched the phone between her shoulder and her ear.
    “Hello, Crazy Daisy.”
    “Hello. My name is Samantha Stephens. I would like to send some flowers to my dad. Would you help me with that?”
    “Sure. Let me get my order pad.” Amy barely avoided