CHAPTER SEVEN
Cameron
“Reckless, stubborn woman,” I said, glancing out the window.
I made the effort to blink a few times, even took another sip of my coffee—French press, a terrible watery joke considering I was an espresso drinker—but I’d left my machine behind and clearly, my eyes had to be betraying me. Either that, or I’d been right all along.
I turned on my heels with one clear objective in mind—the door—but I heard Willow calling for me from the kitchen. Before coming to Green Oak, I would have assumed she was wondering why we weren’t having breakfast, but the incessant mewling and calling had nothing to do with food now. Unlike Pierogi, Willow had been bitching since the first box was packed back in L.A. Ever since arriving here, she’d been very clear about who was to blame for all the discomfort she was suffering. Me. So when I crossed the living room and found her poised on the kitchen counter, right next to the French press, I knew exactly what was coming next.
“Can you please give it a rest?” I asked one of my two cats. “I can only deal with one complicated, frustrating female at a time.”
She held my gaze in silence, then moved closer to the pot. Challenging me.
“Willow,” I warned. But her paw came out in response. “I swear to God, Willow. That coffee is no good, but if you make me—”
She mewled, interrupting me. As if telling me, I don’t care what you do or do not think. And sweet Jesus, a humorless laugh burst out of my mouth, because how was it possible that the cat I’d adopted years ago could remind me of a woman I’d known for less than a day?
That tiny but sneaky paw inched closer, sobering me right up. “Willow,” I said. Softly, this time, pleadingly. “I know you’re not happy here, but we all need to—”
Willow jumped off the counter and dashed into the hallway.
“Adapt,” I finished, my eyes focusing on the trail of mud she’d just left behind. I raised my voice. “And please, stop sneaking out of the house.”
Pierogi lifted his head from the arm of the couch, giving me a charitable look.
“Thanks, P,” I told her.
My phone pinged from the kitchen island. I grabbed it, a glance telling me who it was—Liam, my former agent—and what he wanted—something I didn’t have the energy to deal with.
So I locked the screen, slipped it into my pocket, and gave myself five seconds to regroup. Then, I stomped my way out of the house and onto the porch. I wasn’t going to fool myself, a large—and loud—part of me knew that I shouldn’t be involving myself in anything concerning that woman. I shouldn’t even be entertaining going to her. She knew who I was, and she’d almost blurted it out to the girls.
I’d gone through almost a month of anonymity. I went on my hikes, grabbed coffee from Josie’s Joint, reluctantly ran practice three times a week since the season had kicked off, and kept to myself. Coaching was already a stretch on what I had been looking for here. Peace and quiet. Silence. Nature. Nothing football—or soccer, I thought with an eyeroll—related. Yes, even after five years playing in L.A. I still felt a prickle when I had to call the sport I loved something other than football.
The arrival of that woman had muddled everything up. Adalyn Elisa Reyes was a major inconvenience and I should not be walking toward her car.
I should have been going in the opposite direction. Probably move away. To a different town.
I knew she’d bring only trouble with her suits and her heels and her plans to drive the team to its full potential or some bullshit I suspected would only bring attention I didn’t need or want.
And yet, I found myself crossing my yard and banging my fist on the window of her car.
Ignoring the sense of déjà vu, I waited for the woman curled up in the driver’s seat to react. Her head was once again against the window, and her lips were parted, but her expression was lax with sleep. My eyes betrayed me, dipping down her body and noticing how her arms hugged her bare legs. I cursed under my breath. She was wearing next to nothing. Just some flimsy silky sleep set that left very little to the imagination.
Something deep in my gut flared.
Was she mad? September was on the mild side in this area, but at night, temperatures could decrease at least twenty degrees. She could—
Ah, for fuck’s sake. I didn’t care whether this woman was cold or not.
I ripped my gaze from all that skin on display and banged on the window again. Much, much harder.
She awoke with a jolt.
Her whole body jumped as she clutched her meager top, looking so disoriented and frightened that for an instant I felt bad. Me. Feeling remorseful when she was being so recklessly irresponsible.
Her eyes found me. “You again,” she scoffed, her words muffled by the glass. “You scared me! What in the world do you think you’re doing?”
“What am I doing?” I repeated, flabbergasted. “Better question is, what in the world do you think you are doing sleeping in your car like this? Are you mad?”
“What I do is none of your business.” She turned her head, giving me her profile.
With a slow exhale, I placed my hand on the roof of the car and leaned closer. “You are camped in my yard, that makes you my business. Can you roll down the window so we don’t have to yell at each other?”
“Our yard,” she said, gaze on the windshield. “And you’re always yelling. Glass or not.”
My exasperation sparked. “Adalyn,” I said, and that word alone was somehow enough for her to shake her head and grudgingly press the button.
Once the window was down, she pinned me with an unimpressed glance. “So? What can I help you with?”
My brows shot to the top of my head. “Pardon me?”
“Oh, where are my manners.” Sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Good morning, neighbor. May I help you with something on this crisp and beautiful morning?” Her lips curled up in what was the phoniest smile I’d ever seen. “That better?”
I blinked at the woman. Stared, really. I was at a loss. Again. Never—not even once—in my life had anyone managed to unarm me like this woman did. And I’d met some sneaky bastards throughout my career.
In my silence, she pointed at my hand. “Is that coffee for me? If so, no thanks. Not only do I not accept things from strangers but I don’t trust you.”
I looked down, noticing for the first time that I had brought my mug with me. Christ. What was up with me? “I’m not a stranger.” I returned my gaze to hers. “And believe me, I wouldn’t care to spike your drink or whatever the fuck you’re implying. I’ve seen you unconscious and you’re just as much work as awake. If not more.”
“I keep forgetting how annoying your kind are.”
My kind. “English?”
“Pompous players who believe the sun rises and sets on them.” A shrug of a shoulder. “And by the way? You are a stranger. The only thing I know about you is your name and that you enjoy shouting at people, specifically women, while they sit in cars.” She lowered her voice. “Sounds like a lawsuit waiting to happen if you ask me.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. She thought she could deflect by insulting me. “I asked you a question.”
“I might have missed it with all the aggressive yelling and intrusive pounding.” Her lips pursed. “Actually, you—”
“Cut the goddamn bullshit, darling.”
Her shoulders hiked up. “I have a name—”
“Oh, I know that,” I interjected before she sidetracked me again. “I goddamn told you, Adalyn. I told you that you wouldn’t make it a night in that bloody shack. So tell me, huh? Why are you sleeping out here? In your car. I’m sure you have a good reason.”
She looked at me then. Really looked, the features on her face gentling, as if my words had caught her so off guard that her walls had dropped down. In that instant, I could finally see her. The Adalyn behind that bravado, pride, and hostility I didn’t understand and who managed to bring my own temper out. And even with her hair pointing in all directions and the dark circles under her eyes, it was impossible to miss two things: Adalyn Reyes was beautiful. And she was also a hot mess.
She was a beautiful hot mess of an inconvenience I wanted out of my hair.
“Sleeping out here is not safe,” I pressed, hearing my voice soften. “Or smart. It’s irresponsible. So if you don’t want to use the cabin you booked, then leave. Pack your things and go.” She paled at that, but I continued. I needed the message to be delivered loud and clear. “If you’ve been sent here to fill in some silly charity quota for your big-time club, lie. All right? It’s easy and all the clubs do it. Make up some reports or a story and go home. Stop the pretense and—”
She threw the driver’s door open, bringing my words to a stop and making me stumble back a step. She stuck half of her body out and pointed a finger at me. “Listen,” she hissed, letting me know all guards were right back up. “And listen carefully, you stubborn, cocky, infuriating, and exasperating… curmudgeon of a man.”
I frowned. “What—”
“If you think you can boss me around just because you think yourself more important than me, or because you have developed some strange superiority complex due to trauma or a small penis, then I suggest you think again.”
My brows bounced up, meeting my hairline. “I don’t—”
“I’m not here for you,” she loud-whispered, her face growing red. “I’m here for my franchise. And I’m not a journalist who can just… concoct a story. I take my job seriously, and that silly charity quota is my one ticket out of here.”
I opened my mouth again, but she pushed at the door, opening it even wider and smacking me in the stomach. “Jesus Christ, woman. What is with you and hitting me with that goddamn car?”
Adalyn didn’t answer me, she was busy stomping out of the car—barefoot, I noticed—with a pair of shoes dangling from her fingers.
“Adalyn,” I called, following her with my eyes as she walked past me. This had escalated in a way I hadn’t been expecting and now I felt like a giant twat. “I’m—”
But Adalyn didn’t care for what I had to say. She stopped her strut to turn and point at me with one sharp stiletto.
“Save it, because I don’t care,” she said, making my jaw clamp shut. “And let this get into your thick skull: this is the only place I plan to stay for the foreseeable future.” She swallowed, and it was then that I noticed her chest heaving up and down. Fuck. Had I been that big of a prick? “Believe me,” Adalyn continued, her voice cracking. “I wouldn’t be in Green Oak if I had a say in it. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been banished from my life like I’m disposable. So congrats, you were right. I didn’t make it a night. But know that I wouldn’t have slept in that car if I had any other reasonable, not-crawling-with-God-knows-what choice!” Her pitch rose, getting squeaky high. “So if my presence bothers you that much, then just act like I’m not here. Because I’ve got a news flash for you: I’m not going bloody anywhere, mate!”
Bloody. Mate. Was she taking the piss out of me? “Ada—”
She whirled around, making her way inside that decrepit cabin while I remained frozen in place, obtaining the answer to my two questions. Yes, she must have been mocking me and yes, I had definitely been a prick.
I closed my eyes, shaking my head briefly until I heard a thud and a yelp.
My eyelids lifted just in time to see a stiletto flying out of the cabin and landing at my feet.
A stiletto.
Walk away, I told myself again. She just gave you an easy out. Ignore her.
I squared my shoulders, downed the rest of my coffee, grabbed the flying shoe, and headed for her door.
The first thing I saw when I ventured into Sweet Heaven Cottage was Adalyn. She was still breathing heavily, her hair still very much a mess and her legs and arms on display. Once again, I couldn’t stop myself from letting my gaze get a little lost in that last fact. And once again, I was honest enough to admit that I liked what I saw. I liked the curve of her hips and thighs, the sight of her bare feet, and even how her breasts moved with her breathing under that thin top. I was, after all, a living, breathing man. And she—
“I don’t have anger management issues,” she announced, making my gaze return to her face. “I wanted to clarify that before you ask or point it out. I really don’t. I was dealing with a frustrating situation. With my shoe.”
“Not to be a bloody ass, mate,” I purposely said in a thick accent, throwing the words back at her to break some of the tension. “But that’s what someone with anger management issues would say.”
She let out a small huff, her shoulders coming down an inch. “Would you rather I take my frustration out on something else? Because I have another shoe.”
“Oh, were you doing that with something in particular?”
A look was shot to her right, and it was only then when I spotted it. The massive and dated four-poster bed. I arched my brows, noticing one of the poles was hanging at a weird angle. I had to bite back a smile. A goddamn smile. “Were you perhaps using the shoe as a hammer of some sort?”
“I’m resourceful like that,” she answered simply. “It was either that or taking my anger out on someone.”
My eyes jumped back to her. And the mental image took shape in my head so wickedly fast that this time, I could do nothing to stop the corners of my lips from finally twitching.
Her expression turned horrified. “Oh God, no. No. I meant—”
“I know what you meant,” I said with a shrug. “And I must decline. Being shanked by a little bird like you is not on my priority list.” I placed the shoe I’d retrieved from outside on the floor. “Not today, at least.”
She froze for an instant before rolling her eyes, but I didn’t miss the way her throat and cheeks flushed. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. Shanked. Plus, I’m not little. Or a bird.”
I took a few steps forward, dropping my mug on some eggshell-colored cabinet in what I supposed was a kitchenette. Christ. This place was in worse shape than I’d thought. “Listen, I’ve come in here to extend a temporary peace treaty, okay?”
She eyed me with a skeptical expression, her gaze traveling up and down my body. “Why would you do that? I didn’t even apologize for yesterday.”
“Are you actually sorry?”
A defeated puff of air left her. “I was having a particularly horrible day.”
“Well, then. Consider your very poor and much too late apology accepted.”
I ignored the sound leaving Adalyn and stepped further into the cabin. The wood creaked under my feet as I gave my surroundings a quick glance. Every surface was clean, and there were marks on the floors as if heavy furniture had been moved around. I wondered who in the world had decided to repurpose this shack into a holiday accommodation. Someone who hadn’t been here, clearly.
I extended my arms. “I can see how this cabin is a problem. It would be for anyone who has minimal living standards. But I can’t have you camping out in your car. It starts by sleeping in there one night, turns into two, and then by the end of the week you’ll eventually be careless, leave food out and attract some wild animal.”
That got her attention. “A wild animal? Like a bear… or something like that?”
“Black bears are not exactly rare in this area.” She paled, and I took the chance to continue. “And I can’t risk that. I have a family to look after, okay?” And I couldn’t seem to keep Willow indoors.
“Oh,” she breathed out, and to my complete surprise, her face… softened. Her lips parted, relaxed, and a light shade of pink filled up her whole face. “I didn’t know, I never read or heard that you were married. Or had kids.”
“I don’t.”
She looked at me like she wanted to ask about the specifics, but she only bit her lip.
I ripped my eyes off her mouth and busied myself with every tacky piece of furniture around her. “Do you think this is a scam?” I pointed with my head at the bed, although I meant the whole place. “Or just an honest-to-God crime against décor?”
“Maybe a mix of both?”
“Well, I hope whoever booked this for you is at the very least fired now.”
“How do you know I didn’t book this myself?”
I glanced back at her, finding her eyebrows knotted. She absently touched her forehead and flinched slightly. My voice turned hard. “Did you get that checked?”
“It’s not my assistant’s fault,” she said, ignoring my last comment. “At least I don’t think so. And it’s not like I’m in a position to fire anyone right now anyway.”
“The banishment?”
Instead of answering, she averted her eyes. “The cabin will be fine. This is all fine, really.”
“You could have fooled me. You could have fooled that bed for that matter.”
We stayed in silence for a long moment, and to my complete surprise it wasn’t charged or filled with that hasty and explosive tension that had accompanied every conversation before. I looked at Adalyn, who was quietly staring at the bed, seemingly lost in thought.
A soft hum left her, and when she spoke, I couldn’t tell if she was actually realizing that. “I can’t believe I used to dream about one of those when I was kid.”
“You did?” I murmured, curious enough.
She seemed startled, maybe even a little bashful about her confession, but she didn’t take it back. “Yes. It’s too bad this one’s infested.”
“Infested?”
All of that softness vanished. “Why do you think I was sleeping in my car?”
This cabin was an atrocity, a sick joke, and I knew that, but now all that inexplicable exasperation I’d been experiencing flared back to life. Jesus. So much for that comfortable silence. “Because you’re a spoiled daddy’s girl who can’t bear the thought of less than a five-star hotel?”
In truth, I hated saying that. But a part of me had pushed me to. A part that I didn’t understand. The part that wanted nothing to do with her.
All that fire I’d seen earlier reignited behind her eyes. “You know nothing about me.”
And you know too much about me, I wanted to say. But I extended my arm and held up my palm. “Give me your phone.”
She blinked. “Do you even know any normal social cues? I thought I could be difficult but you’re impossible.”
“I surely am. Impossibly annoyed.” I wiggled my fingers. “Phone. I’ll text my number from yours.”
“And why in the world would I want your number?”
I could think of about a hundred reasons, none of which I looked forward to, but I’d offered her a goddamn truce. And I wasn’t a monster. “I’ll forward you Lazy Elk Lodge’s contact information when I’m back to my cabin. The one I was given. Ring them and say you’re calling on my behalf if you want them to act faster. Ask them to refurbish the cottage.”
Her lips popped right open, shaping a wide O.
“Say you’re my assistant, if you will,” I continued. “Complain about some crazy neighbor living in a toolshed and wreaking havoc. I’m sure that’ll get their attention.”
Her gaze jumped between my face and extended palm a couple of times.
“I don’t have all day,” I told her. “And I’m helping you.”
“By calling me spoiled and being a smug, self-conceited p—” She stopped herself.
“Prick. You can say it out loud, darling.” I stepped closer. “Now, phone.”
She blew a gulp of air through her lips. “It’s in my car.”
“Christ,” I whispered, producing mine from a pocket, unlocking it and offering it to her. “Save your number in mine then. I’ll text you.”
Her hand hesitated but then she snatched the phone from my grasp, her fingers grazing the back of my hand briefly but managing to make me notice the touch. Her cheeks flushed and she said, gaze cast down, “I still don’t trust you. And if this is some way to play some tricks or pranks on me I…” She trailed off for a second, something crossing her expression. “Save yourself the trouble.”
The blood in my veins froze.
“Look up at me, please,” I told her, and my voice was low and deliberately hard. “Do I look like some dumb college boy to you?”
That blush turned into an intense shade of pink. She frowned but shook her head.
“Do I look like I have nothing better to do than play little pranks on you?” I stepped closer, making sure she met my gaze. She gave me another shake. “That’s right. Because I might not like you, and you might not like me in return, but I promise you, Adalyn, I’m too old to waste my time in pointless things like tricking you for sport.”
Her throat worked, dragging my eyes there for an instant.
I returned my gaze to hers. “I only play when there’s something worth winning. So save your number in my contacts and hand over the phone. The sooner you realize this is all Green Oak has to offer, the sooner you’ll be out of this town.”