CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Adalyn
If I thought Cameron had been exasperating when he’d been indifferent toward working with me, that was because I had no idea how Cameron was when he was actually involved.
“You’re being stubborn,” he told me with that annoying arch of his brow.
“Me?” I scoffed. “You’re the one who’s been complaining about the color scheme for the new uniforms for a full hour. Honestly, for someone who dresses in technical wear that comes in colors like Smolder Blue, Northern Black, or Rocky Gray, you seem very keen on deciding what shade of green the socks should be.”
He let out a grunt.
The fifth one in the last hour. As if he was some… bear-man.
“What’s wrong now?” I asked. “Did I offend your fashion sense by saying the truth?”
“These bloody stands we’re sitting on.” Cameron shifted in his seat. “They are worse than I thought,” he muttered, turning right and left as if the bleachers had anything else to offer but a hard surface and an iron structure that had seen better days. “How do you manage to sit here for two whole hours, three days a week?”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, the audacity of men to doubt a woman’s capacity to endure pain and discomfort.”
Cameron scowled. “Pain?”
“Can you please focus? I need to close this today. We said we would discuss it on Monday after practice and got nowhere. Wednesday’s meeting was fruitless too. Now it’s Thursday, the second game is this coming Saturday, and the girls will play in the old uniforms again. Do you see the rush?”
“Not really,” he had the nerve to answer.
Now that outright pissed me off. “I have reports to fill and a success story to create. For that I need a narrative I control, a social media presence to get eyes on the team, a strategy to win the Six Hills, and a team dressed in decent, up-to-date sponsored uniforms. So far I have none of that.”
“You have me.”
That stupid blush returned, and I made myself give him a bland look. “Yay.”
But as ironic as I intended that, something heavy and unexpected settled deep in my belly. I really did have Cameron’s help after that sudden change of heart during last Saturday’s game. I’d seen the shift in how he ran practice this week. Cameron had been a lot less resignedly patient and more… assertive. Bossy. And to my surprise, instead of rebelling or complaining, the chaotic ragtag team that had been the Green Warriors had gone so far as to look disciplined.
For like ten percent of the time.
Cameron’s large body shifted again, sidetracking me when the side of his knee collided against mine. An unexpected shiver crawled down my spine at the warm contact of his skin against the thin fabric of the chinos I was wearing in an attempt to look less scary and more approachable. My gaze fell on his bare knee, thanks to the workout shorts he religiously wore to practice. My eyes trailed upward, along his quad. The fabric had ridden up and his skin was on display, smooth-looking and—
Ugh. I was doing it again. Ogling this man’s body.
“You’re cold,” he stated from my side. “Again. When are you going to finally understand that you’re not in Miami and these flimsy clothes are not enough?”
“I’m not cold,” I lied. I was simply affected by the brief contact of his leg. “I’m annoyed. And my clothes are not flimsy.” I lifted up the forgotten binder from my lap. “If you want to participate in the decision process of the new uniforms”—and the matching tracksuit he didn’t approve of but I was ordering anyway—“we settle on one now. Otherwise, I’ll look for someone else’s input.”
“You don’t have anybody else.”
I didn’t.
Besides Josie, and maybe Grandpa Moe, not a single soul in Green Oak was remotely interested in talking to me, much less working with me. Diane was still doubling as a PTA vigilante. But I wasn’t complaining. I would also be hesitant to befriend the sicko who attacked a mascot and went by the name of Lady Birdinator online.
I pulled out my phone and opened my messages app.
Cameron craned his neck. “Who are you texting?”
I kept my eyes on the screen, ignoring how near he’d moved, and selected a few of the pictures I’d taken during Saturday’s game. “Someone who might actually help.”
“Matthew,” Cameron murmured. “Is that your daddy?”
That stung more than I expected. Not because Cameron had implied more than once that I was spoiled, but because I didn’t think my father would answer if I texted him. All I’d gotten from him in the last days was a message from his secretary to confirm the energy drink issue was being looked at. Not even a quick check-in. “He’s my best friend.”
It was stupid to ask Matthew, but I was trying to prove a point.
Cameron exhaled noisily, his whole body moving with the release of air. The side of his quad pressed against the side of mine. “Adalyn, I—”
My phone pinged.
“There you go,” I said. “Quick. Efficient. Always willing.”
Cameron grumbled something I ignored in favor of reading Matthew’s texts out loud.
MATTHEW: WTF
MATTHEW: EXPLAIN.
I let out a quick celebratory Ha. “See? Now this is exactly the involvement I was looking for. Passion for discussion.”
But then I scrolled down and I…
MATTHEW: Is that who I think it is?
MATTHEW: WHAT IS HE DOING THERE?
MATTHEW: Is this today????
MATTHEW: WTF ADALYN
MATTHEW: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE WITH Cameron Caldani (!!) and you wouldn’t tell ME.
MATTHEW: What is he even doing in NC? What—
I immediately locked my phone.
For good measure, I brought it to my chest. Hid it. How had I— The pictures. Cameron must have been in them. God. My fingers clasped the device even tighter. I didn’t want Cameron to believe I was going around giving away where he was.
I looked over at him, coming up with ways to explain myself, but Cameron was engrossed in my binder. The red one.
I blinked.
Take it as a win, Adalyn.
I shoved my phone into the depths of my bag and cleared my throat. “Yes.” I scooted closer to him. Which I realized was a mistake, because all I could feel and smell was Cameron. I scooted back. “I think we can move on to strategy, good idea.”
“Already on it,” he said without looking at me.
A little passive-aggressive but I’d averted a crisis, so I’d give him that. “How’s that looking?” I asked. “What do you have in mind in terms of game plan? We’re playing against—”
“Rockstone,” he finished for me. “It’s here in your little binder.” It wasn’t little, but I let that go, too. “And my plan is for the kids to point at the right side this time.”
“That’s a good start,” I admitted genuinely. “But we should probably start tracking something more specific. Like training plans for every player to cater to their individual needs.” I stretched a hand over his lap and turned a few pages, getting to the individual cards I’d prepared. “Maybe if we—” I felt the weight of his stare on my profile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Cameron’s head tilted, and when he spoke, thanks to my leaning in over him, his words fell on my temple. “You’ve got a section for me in your binder of hell?”
I did. But filed away in a box in my head. Something else in my head right now? How close his face was to mine. I jerked back. “Don’t speak like that about my binder” was all I could say.
A deep chuckle rumbled off Cameron, as if I was this amusing thing he could poke.
“This is proving very unproductive,” I told him. “Let’s call it a day and go home.”
All amusement vanished, and his shoulders went as far as sinking, even if almost imperceptibly. “Ada, darling,” he said with an exhale.
Ada, darling.
That was new. I’d never been called something like that. It was… musical and beautiful and hearing Cameron say it made me feel strange. Not like being called Addy or Ads did, but different. I decided I wouldn’t like it.
Cameron’s expression shifted again, as if something was dawning, finally making sense. I panicked but then, what had to be his phone rang from his pocket, providing me with an easy out.
Relieved, I watched him reluctantly pull the device out of the front pocket of his jacket and check the screen. He straightened, his demeanor changing instantly. “I need to take this. Excuse me for a minute.”
And just like that, he was swiftly climbing down the stands and I was left there, watching how the muscles in those sculpted calves danced with every stride.
“And I’m doing it again,” I told myself. “Ogling him.”
I exhaled, grabbing the binder from where Cameron had left it and hugging it to myself. I thought back to Matthew’s trail of texts. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t jump on a flight and plant himself on Cameron’s doorstep to get his forehead signed. Or knowing Matthew, his ass cheek. Or—
“Hi!”
The binder was almost startled out of my grasp.
“Oops,” María said. “Did I scare you, Miss Adalyn? I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m too loud.”
I smoothed my expression into what I hoped was a nice smile. “You’re never too loud, María,” I told her, and for some reason, something my mother said came to mind. “And you should never apologize for being loud. Whoever makes you feel that way is the one with sensitive ears.”
She made a face. “That makes a lot of sense.” She nodded slowly. “Was that why you were staring at the back of his head? Were you staring at Coach Camouflage’s ears?”
I sighed. “I was… wondering what conditioner he uses. His hair looks so shiny and bright all the time.”
Her brows knit in the middle of her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever used conditioner. Dad buys all the shower products for the house and Tony helps me out with my hair.” I glanced up at the way her hair was in some lopsided ponytail today. “Maybe I can ask Dad to get me one.”
I looked at the girl who had always treated me differently than everyone else, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned her mother. It wasn’t any of my business, and it would be extremely inappropriate to ask a child about something like that, but there was something about this particular kid that made me want to know.
A teenager emerged around the corner of the stands carrying a plank of wood, distracting me from the thought.
“Oh yeah,” María said, while I gawked at the unexpected sight behind her. “Tony and Dad are working on the supply shed. Remember how we accidentally broke the door and made a mess? Come, I’ll introduce you, Miss Adalyn. They’ll like you, I promise.”
And before I knew what was happening, María was pulling me behind her all the way to where her brother and father were working.
When we reached them, María tugged at my hand and I blurted out a very loud “Hi.”
Tony, a teenage boy that was all legs and arms who had been in the process of placing the plank of wood I’d seen on his shoulder against a workbench, dropped the thing to the ground.
His father cursed.
María chuckled.
“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out.
“Tony has such sensitive ears,” María quipped.
Tony turned around. “How about you clip it, you little monster—” He spotted me, his face turning cherry red. He seemed to choke. “Oh. Hello, ma’am.”
“Ignore Tony,” María chirped. “He gets like that when girls are around.” The teenager’s eyes widened. “Hey, Dad? This is Miss Adalyn, remember I told you about her?”
The man was already walking around the workbench and taking off a pair of security gloves. “It’s hard to forget,” he said with a smile that immediately reminded me of his daughter. “You’re all she talks about.” He stretched out a hand. “I’m Robbie Vasquez, pleased to finally meet you.”
I took his hand and shook it. “It’s great to meet you, too, Mr. Vasquez.”
A lighthearted laughter rolled off his tongue. “Please, Robbie is all right.” He released my hand and slipped his gloves back on. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name everyone in town is chattering about. I would have loved to introduce myself during the goat happy hour but there was an emergency at the cow barn.”
María tugged at my hand, and I looked down at her. “Carmen hasn’t been eating. I think she’s sad because Sebastian went missing weeks ago.”
“Carmen the… cow?” I ventured. “And Sebastian the…”
“The rooster,” María offered. “Sebastian Stan, Miss Josie named him. It was my birthday present.”
“That would be them.” Robbie chuckled. “María likes for all the animals we have to be named. But Carmen’s stomach is all right now. Nothing to worry about.”
Tony approached us shyly before I could ask any further questions. His face was still red, and his eyes were cast down. “All the planks are out of the truck. Can I run to Josie’s for a minute?”
His dad clicked his tongue. “Fine,” he relented. And the teen didn’t waste time turning around. “But take your sister with you,” Robbie added, bringing the teenager to a stop. “And be back in five. Tops. We’ve got work to do.”
Tony shook his head, but he stretched an arm, sticking his hand out.
María shot running in her brother’s direction, latching on to the outstretched limb. “I’ll bring you a brownie, Miss Adalyn,” she called over her shoulder. “You, too, Dad!”
Robbie laughed, but called back, “Gracias, bichito.”
The Spanish words echoed in my mind. A part of me felt encouraged to exploit that connection. We had something in common, after all. A language. Maybe a culture, too. I’d know if I asked. That was what my mother would do. But I… I didn’t know how. My mind blanked in situations like these. What if the man talked to me in Spanish and discovered that mine wasn’t very good? What if he expected me to be something I wasn’t and then turned out to be disappointed? He seemed to like me just fine for now.
My gaze roamed around, desperately searching for something to say, and coming to a stop when I spotted a Miami Flames hoodie thrown over a toolbox.
“Are you a fan?” I asked, nodding at it.
“Tony is,” he admitted, a slow smile parting his face. “The boy’s crazy about soccer. Watches everything and anything he finds on TV, or his phone.” A shake of his head. “I’m not one for sports, honestly, but their mother was. He, uh…” His smile fell. “He took after her in that way. María does, too, I guess.”
Was. Their mother was.
I wracked my head again to say something appropriate and not bring this conversation to an awkward halt. “I work for the Miami Flames,” I rushed out. “I know Miami is not exactly around the corner, but I could get you tickets to a game. You guys could make a trip out of it. Miami will be a good break from the cold by the time the Flames make it to playoffs. If they ever do, that is. We’re not having the best season.”
The cheery, kind man fell strangely silent.
“I’m the head of communications of the team,” I felt the need to explain. “Well, I… was. I’m on a temporary leave—break. I’m on a break.” Robbie frowned and I shifted my feet. “That sounds like I was fired, but I wasn’t. I can get the three of you good tickets, I promise. My father is the owner. He, uh—” I swallowed, and God, I didn’t even know why I was rambling to this man. “Andrew Underwood. I’m his daughter. So, even if I’m technically on a break I’m still able to get tickets for, er, people. Yes.”
Robbie’s expression closed off. He even took a step back. “But your name,” he said. “It’s Reyes. I didn’t think—” He stopped himself.
I… I didn’t understand what I’d said to possibly offend him. Was he realizing that I was the crazy woman from the video the whole town was talking about? “I use my mother’s last name.” I clasped my hands so I wouldn’t fidget. “And I promise, the kids are safe with me. That—”
“Thanks for the offer, miss,” he interjected. “But I’m afraid I can’t accept the tickets. We’ve already taken more charity than I’m comfortable with.”
Charity.
The term seemed to hit me harder than it should have. Perhaps because I’d accused Cameron of the same thing. Robbie’s and my reactions weren’t that far off. So I shouldn’t be all that hurt. Only I’d tried to be nice. This was María’s dad, and I’d wanted to do something for him and his kids. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone besides Josie on my side. I couldn’t understand how it had backfired so miserably.
“Is there a problem?” a deep, accented voice said behind me.
Something happened in my body then, something that felt a lot like relief. Relief at Cameron Caldani being there. Here. It didn’t make sense.
Robbie’s eyes locked on a point over my head. He opened his mouth.
“Everything’s fine,” I interjected. “I was pestering Mr. Vasquez and not letting him do his work. Now that I think of it, I never arranged for the repairs of the shed. Did Josie call you? It was my mess to clean, and I’d like to take care of it. So who should I see about the cost?”
“It’s all taken care of, miss,” Robbie answered.
So we really were back to the miss. “But—”
“It doesn’t matter,” Cameron interrupted. He came to my side and took a good look at me. His expression changed. Something flashed behind his eyes. Concern? “Now, where’s that binder with your detailed fifteen-step plan to make my life all the more complicated? I’d like to go home.”
Mr. Vasquez’s brows shot up.
Yeah, not concern. Whatever kind of relief I thought I’d felt had been a lapse in judgment. Clearly.
I said very, very calmly, and with that smile I knew he found so appalling, “Do you know what?”
“I don’t know what.” His lips mirrored mine, tilting. “But you’re gonna tell me anyway, aren’t you, darling?”
That stupid darling came back. It angered me.
“You.” I planted a finger on his unshockingly hard chest. “Can really be an ass.”
He looked down at my index finger as it impaled his left pec. An eyebrow rose. “I think you can do better than that.” His gaze met mine again. There was a challenge in there. “I did insult your binder. Again. I deserve a little more.”
He did. I narrowed my eyes, the words dancing on the tip of my tongue.
“Come on, darling,” he said, lowering his voice. “Let it out for me.”
Let it out for me? Who did he think he was?
“You.” I stabbed his chest with my finger. Anger swirling up my throat. “You are so exasperating that I can’t.” Another jab. “I can’t with you, you stubborn, know-it-all, curmudgeon of a man!”
My words hung in the air as Cameron looked at me with a face I didn’t understand. A face that wasn’t frustrated or angry or even remotely unhappy. In fact, it was the opposite.
“What’s a curmudgeon?” María said. “Is it the thing that Grandpa Moe got on his butt?”
I turned my head slowly, confirming María and Tony had returned. The nine-year-old was holding a grease-stained brown box and the teen was looking down at his sister with an expression of pure horror.
“Shut up, María,” Tony whispered loudly. But then he turned toward us. And his eyes landed on Cameron. They widened.
“Why?” she continued, glancing up at her brother. “They were talking about asses, and Coach Kisscam always looks like he’s angry about something.”
Tony remained silent, his face etched in a mix of shock and awe that I recognized well. He was starstruck. The kid had to know exactly who Cameron was and it looked a lot like he was finding out for the first time. “Don’t call him that,” he murmured, coming into himself. “He’s Cameron—”
“He’s just Cameron,” I stepped forward. Meeting the teenager’s eyes. My voice had been a little harsh. I cleared my throat. “Or Coach Cam.” I stepped back. “And we should really head home.”
There was a beat of silence.
María sighed. “Honestly, I would be angry, too, if I had a giant thing on my bu—”
Tony pinched her side. “Clip it, stinky monster.”
“Hey!” María complained. “I’m not a monster! And one day I’m going to be a boss-lady like Miss Adalyn. And I’ll kick your ass with my high heels like I know she does to anyone that calls her stinky.”
My chest felt like it had been filled with concrete and I… God.
All the fight escaped me.
I couldn’t believe how or why someone would say that when I was nothing but a trainwreck who apparently called infuriating men names with minimal provocation, ripped mascot heads off costumes, was the face of an energy drink that praised entertainment over dignity, and fell into goat poo.
I’d never been liked or admired by anyone that fiercely. Like María seemed to do.
A hand fell on the small of my back, and when I was told, almost too softly, “Let’s go get your things, darling. I’ll walk you to your car,” I went. Not even questioning when that very same hand dropped and brushed the back of mine as we walked away.
I was beginning to understand just how exhausted I was from questioning every single thing in life.