“I have to go out of town next week,” she informed him.
Cameron’s phone buzzed again as Tessa continued dressing.
How the hell should I know? Some woman with a kid. Just get down here, practice is about to start anyway.
Yeah, practice. He knew he needed to get his ass moving. He’d gone out to run errands, then swing by home to pick up a few things. He’d been on his way home when he’d spotted the woman with blond hair struggling with her shredded tire. His first instinct had been to press harder on the gas and go about his day. But something about her caught his attention. Maybe it was the sight of her struggling with the wrench. Maybe it had been the way those jeans had fit over her very fine ass. Either way, he’d found himself stopping.
Christ, she’d been something else. First she’d pinned him with a pair of brown eyes that had dared him to tell her what to do; then she’d opened her mouth, and Cameron couldn’t decide if he wanted to strangle her or kiss her. She probably would have clocked him good.
But he’d seen the way the pulse at the base of her neck had fluttered when he’d grinned at her. Then the way her cheeks had flamed when he’d gotten an eyeful of a pink bra cupping a generous breast. She probably didn’t even know she’d missed a button.
Highlight of his day. Hell, his whole week.
Then Tessa had shown up and hadn’t wasted any time shoving him into the bedroom and stripping his clothes off along the way.
“Cameron, are you listening?” Tessa lowered herself to the bed and pulled her boots on.
Cam sent his reply to Blake.
On my way.
Tessa stood from the bed and jammed her hands on her slim hips. “Cameron?”
He tossed his phone on the dresser. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “You haven’t heard a word I said, have you?”
He stood also and pulled his Blanco Valley Football shirt from the dresser. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?” He’d been too busy thinking about a woman with a pink bra. He should feel like a bastard for thinking about the tire girl when his sheets still smelled like sex and Tessa. But he couldn’t muster any guilt. It’s not like Tessa was his girlfriend. She’d made it clear in the beginning that she wasn’t looking for anything serious or even exclusive, and she knew full well he didn’t want anything more either. She was just someone who occasionally scratched an itch whenever she happened to be in town.
Tessa ran her gaze over him. “I said I’m going out of town for a little while. My sister had a baby, and I’m going to visit her for a few weeks. So I won’t be around.”
Cameron tugged his shirt on, then swiped his cell off the dresser. “All right.” He grabbed his wallet and keys and pocketed them as well.
“Think you can get by while I’m gone?” she teased.
“I think I’ll manage,” he told her.
One of her brows arched. “Because you have a list of women you can call up, right?”
Was that jealousy he heard? “No questions, Tess. That was your rule, remember?”
She rolled one of her shoulders as though it didn’t matter either way. “Yeah, I know.” She dropped a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you when I’m back in town.”
Then she was gone, and Cameron stared after her. He hoped she wasn’t developing feelings for him. This arrangement between them was supposed to be casual. No expectations, no questions, and no attachments. Just sex.
Because that was the only thing Cameron had to offer a woman. He’d learned the hard way not to jump headfirst into anything. He’d been there, done that, bought the whole damn T-shirt factory, and it had bit him in the ass big-time. Since then he’d kept his relationships strictly casual. He didn’t take women on dates, and he definitely didn’t fall in love. He gave orgasms. That was it. And he was damn good at it, if he did say so himself. If he wasn’t, Tessa wouldn’t come knocking on his door every time she came into town to show a house to a potential buyer.
He was sure Tessa understood that, but if she had other plans, he’d have to set her straight.
Cameron turned to yank some socks out of his dresser drawer, and his gaze fell on the offer letter from Denver. A position as head coach for a 5A school. He’d received the letter a few weeks ago after interviewing with them over the summer. Their current coach had one year left on his contract; then he was retiring.
The letter had been set aside when the Bobcats’ season started a month ago, but the issue had been in the back of his mind. Every time he set foot on the field, every time he lectured, reamed, or pep-talked a player. He’d see their sweat-drenched faces and feel their frustration during a difficult game, and the nagging doubt would start.
Don’t abandon them, it would say. Those kids need you.
But Cameron wasn’t built to be an assistant, even if it was for his best friend. He wanted to go back to running his own team.
But at what cost?
Leaving his home? His friends?
Those questions had been keeping him up at night and pushing aside the initial need to strike out on his own.
Cameron folded the letter back up and headed out the door for practice.
Audrey had never liked football. Not only did she not like the grunting or the head-smashing, but she also didn’t understand anything other than get the ball to the end zone. She didn’t understand flags, or penalties, or gaining yards. Rushing was another foreign concept. If the team’s objective was to outrun the other team to the end zone, shouldn’t they be rushing anyway?
Give her a Jimmy Choo sale any day over this.
Watching a
