He didn’t respond to her observation. Yeah, he did have a soft spot for Piper. But that didn’t mean he was fit to raise her.
He blew out a sigh. “Look, Audrey…”
Audrey shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”
Cameron blinked.
“I’ve been on the receiving end of enough ‘Look, Audreys’ to know it’s never good. I can’t legally take her back to Boulder with me,” Audrey informed him. “She’s supposed to stay with you.”
“I know,” he admitted.
The surprise that flashed across Audrey’s eyes matched Cameron’s. Oddly enough, the words hadn’t struck him dead when he’d said them.
“But you have to understand,” he went on, “I don’t know anything about kids.”
“Neither did Dianna, but she adapted and was an amazing mother.”
Cameron shook his head. “It’s different for women.”
Audrey gazed at him for a moment, then leaned back in her chair. “Huh. Annabelle and Stella didn’t mention how sexist you are.”
“I’m just stating a fact,” he argued, because, shit, he didn’t want her thinking that about him. “Plus, women have nine months to prepare themselves.”
“So you’re just going to give up without even trying?” Audrey pushed. “Funny, but I wouldn’t have pegged you for a quitter.”
Dammit, he wasn’t a quitter. “I’ve never been a quitter,” he told her. “But I’m just trying to be realistic here.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she said with a shrug. “I doubt you could do this. You’d probably screw her up anyway, so you should go ahead and admit defeat.”
Okay, wait a minute.
“I never said that,” he argued, even though he knew damn good and well what she was up to. Audrey Bennett was a crafty little thing who’d picked up on his pride and used it against him. And he hadn’t even seen it coming. “I could do this,” he told her.
She considered him for a moment, running her light brown eyes over him and touching on places that felt like more of a stroke. “I don’t think you can,” she finally said.
Piper scraped the bottom of her yogurt bowl and licked her spoon, totally unaware of the tension brewing like a late afternoon thunderstorm.
Cameron leaned forward and pinned her with the most threatening glower that always had his players shaking in their cleats. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing?” His attention involuntarily dropped to her mouth. How had he not noticed how full her lips were before now?
She offered a shrug, as though she were totally unaffected by his scrutiny. But her dilated pupils gave her away, offering Cameron a moment of triumph. “I’m not doing anything,” she hedged. “Just pointing out the obvious. It’s okay to admit you’re not good at everything. We all can’t be winners.”
Okay, she wanted to play? Cameron knew how to play like an Olympic champion. In fact, he’d practically invented the game. He’d play her so good that she’d never realize the games were finished. He’d be strumming her like a guitar.
Only Cameron didn’t play fair. And he didn’t intend to play the same game as she was. She thought she knew what she was getting into, but she didn’t have a clue.
“Cameron,” Piper said. The kid was bouncing in her seat and had dried yogurt smeared across one cheek. “Can Jellybean have the rest of your yogurt?”
Cameron picked up his empty cup and showed it to her. “It’s empty. See?”
Piper pointed to the empty cup. “But there’s enough left for her.”
Cameron tossed a confused glance at his cup, then realized Piper had spent the last thirty minutes feeding imaginary yogurt to her stuffed cat. “Have at it,” he told her. “I even saved some jelly beans for her.”
Piper’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “Those are her favorite!” she exclaimed.
“I know,” he said with a wink.
A glance at Audrey showed her grinning at him as though to say, Aw, I knew you could do it. He half expected her to give him a gold star. Maybe a pat on the head.
It was so game on.
Six
Piper polished off her third pancake, shoving a huge bite in her mouth and getting more powdered sugar on her shirt than down her throat. Audrey nudged a napkin across the table, knowing the kid would just swipe the mess away with her hand. Her Sofia the First T-shirt was beyond help, but the mess of butter and white powder on her cheeks was salvageable. Audrey grinned when Piper used the napkin but missed half her face.
“Here.” Audrey gave her a hand, ignoring the kid’s protests. Heaven forbid she should be too clean.
Plus, and Audrey didn’t have the faintest idea why she felt this way, she wanted to make a good impression for Cameron. When he’d invited them to the football team’s pancake breakfast, she’d taken it as a token of peace. Like an olive branch or something. So she’d helped Piper dress, even though she normally exerted independence by throwing on whatever mismatching thing, and slicked her hair back into a pair of twin braids. When they’d left, Piper had looked like she belonged on the cover of Parenting magazine. Now, with one braid coming loose, her shirt in ruins, and a grape juice mustache, she looked like…well, she looked like a kid. And the happiest Audrey had seen her in a long time.
“Can I have some more?” Piper questioned as she wrapped an arm around Jellybean.
Audrey leaned forward and brushed more sugar off the kid’s shirt. “Are you going to eat them or feed them to Jellybean?”
Piper shook her head. “Jellybean’s not hungry.”
Of course she wasn’t.
Audrey stood and took Piper’s hand in hers. “Can we go say hi to Cameron after this?” Piper was bouncing up and down, flopping Jellybean all over the place.
The gym was
