Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel (36 page)
Read Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel Online
Authors: Julie Brannagh
“Don’t fuss,” Olivia said. “I’ll be fine.”
Ashley reached out for the doorknob leading to Cameron’s closet and glanced at Cameron with one raised eyebrow. Cameron gave her a quick nod.
“C’mon, Olivia. Let’s see what she’s got.”
Several minutes later they’d coaxed Olivia into a pair of Cameron’s jeans and a plum cotton v-necked sweater. They replaced the high heels she wore with a pair of slipper socks.
“I can’t remember the last time I didn’t wear high heels on a holiday,” Olivia said, but Cameron was touched to see her mom smiling. The sisters clustered around her. “These are definitely more comfortable.”
Ashley nodded at the Chanel pearls. “Those are perfect with that sweater.”
To Cameron’s surprise, Olivia took a strand of them off and draped them around Ashley’s neck. “They’re yours, if you’d like them,” she said. Ashley responded with a hug. Olivia glanced over at Courtney. “You need something pretty to wear with your lab coat,” she said, and pulled off the diamond-studded bangle she wore. She slid it onto Courtney’s wrist.
“But this belongs to you,” Courtney said.
“I want you to have it,” Olivia insisted.
Shelby and Whitney both got a strand of pearls, too.
“Olivia, these are so expensive, and your daughters might be upset—” Ashley protested.
“They already have some.”
Cameron hurried across her and Zach’s room to grab her own strand of Chanel pearls out of the jewelry box and looped them over her head.
“Now we all look stunning,” Olivia said, looking satisfied.
“We don’t cook in anything but Chanel,” Cameron told her sisters-in-law and her mother. Talking and laughing, the six women descended on the kitchen.
Z
ACH ARRIVED HOME
from practice to find a houseful of guests. He could hear the women in the kitchen from the front door. Butter ran up to him, tail wagging, and tried to knock him over.
“Down, boy. Where is everybody?”
His wife hurried toward him and threw her arms around his neck. She had a little flour on one of her cheeks, too. They must have opened a bottle of wine, because he tasted it when he kissed her.
“My dad’s in the family room. He’s behaving himself so far.”
“Good. It’ll be fine, darlin’,” he reassured.
“Wait until you see who else arrived a few minutes ago,” she said into his ear. She tugged him past the formal living room that nobody used and into the family room.
His father-in-law got to his feet and stuck out one hand. “Happy Thanksgiving, Anderson.”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Mr. Ondine. Would you like something to drink or a snack while you’re waiting for dinner? Let’s flip the game on. I like the Lions this year.”
“Call me Preston,” he said.
Cameron’s dad didn’t quite meet his eyes. They’d mended fences enough that Cameron’s family had attended their small and private wedding, but Zach and his father-in-law’s relationship was still a bit dicey. Surprisingly enough, his mother-in-law was at Zach and Cameron’s every chance she could get. He was shocked to learn that she and Grandma shared the same addiction to daytime TV, for instance. She’d coaxed his grandma into shopping and mani-pedis and lunches out, too. He had to admit he loved it. It was time for Grandma to enjoy herself.
“I’ll do that, Preston. Again, do you need anything?”
“Your wife got me a scotch on the rocks, so I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” He sat down again on the couch and nodded toward Zach.
Zach felt the air behind them shift a bit, and Caleb walked into the family room.
“Hey, Z.”
“Caleb.” The two men embraced, slapping each other on the back. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Your sister invited me.”
“She did? That’s great,” Zach said. “Which sister?”
“Whitney.” Preston took the club chair, so Caleb settled himself onto the couch in front of the TV.
“How’d you meet her?” Zach tried to keep his voice casual. Since when did his little sister start hanging around with his teammates?
“She was at Family Day.” In other words, Caleb met her the last day of training camp, when the Sharks were encouraged to invite family and friends for a not-especially-professional game of flag football and barbecue. “You’re not mad, are you, bro?”
“Have you been dating her?”
“Yeah. We’ve had coffee or lunch a few times.”
Preston watched the two men like he was sitting in center court at the US Open. For once, he didn’t say a word. He took another sip of his scotch and observed.
“When were you going to tell me about this?” Zach said.
“Now’s a good time.” Caleb rested his forearms on his massive thighs. “I’ve really enjoyed spending time with your sister. I care for her, and I treat her with respect. I’d like to keep dating her. I hope you won’t object.”
Zach tried to come up with a reason why he should tell Caleb no, and he didn’t have one. Caleb’s upbringing was almost as rough as his own, but the younger man had managed to stay out of trouble, graduate from college, and take care of his mother and grandmother. If he had to pick anyone for Whitney to end up with, she could have brought home a hell of a lot worse. He wagged his finger at Caleb, though. “Her schooling comes first.”
“Always,” Caleb said.
“You’ll bring her home on time, even if she’s not living here anymore.”
“Every time.”
“She needs to finish school before she gets serious with anyone.”
Caleb met his eyes. “I will ask for your blessing before I propose to your sister.”
Preston put his scotch glass down on the end table next to him and studied Caleb. “You mean it.”
“Absolutely,” Caleb said. He glanced up at Zach again. He squared his shoulders and sat up straight. “If anyone wanted to date my little sister, I’d expect the same things.”
To Zach’s surprise, Preston extended his hand to Caleb. The two men shook. Caleb gave him a nod, and settled back on the couch. Zach couldn’t imagine the prep school and Ivy League-educated hedge fund owner and the product of an inner-city high school and state college raised by a single parent who cleaned houses for a living having anything to say to each other. They seemed comfortable together, though.
Zach crossed the room, and stuck his hand out to Caleb as well.
“Let’s watch some football before we start talking about our feelings and shit,” he muttered.
Caleb laughed out loud. Even Preston smiled.
C
AMERON GLANCED AROUND
the new expandable dining room table she’d talked Zach into a couple of weeks ago. The table he’d bought from Ikea a few years ago made a great sideboard for the overflow of side dishes and desserts to feed the Andersons, the Ondines, Caleb, Logan, and a few of the girls’ friends from school and work. The candles were lit, and the china and crystal at each place setting sparkled as twilight fell outside. Butter lay in the corner of the dining room gnawing on an extra-special bone they’d obtained from the butcher for him.
She set the platter holding the perfectly-done turkey down in front of Zach’s place at the table. He got to his feet and slipped his arm around her waist, lifting his wine glass with the other hand. The conversation and laughter around the table quieted.
He opened his mouth and shut it again. His brows knit. He seemed to be struggling for words. Cameron saw tears rise in his eyes, and she gave him a squeeze.
“There are so many things to be thankful for today,” he rasped.
Caleb’s voice was soft. “Amen.”
Zach swallowed hard. “Let’s drink to health, happiness, and life’s greatest blessing—loving, and being loved.”
Zach and Cameron touched glasses.
MORE LOVE AND FOOTBALL!
Can’t get enough of Julie Brannagh’s Love and Football series?
Great news, there is so much more to come!
Next up, golden-haired hottie and Sharks linebacker Drew McCoy meets his match . . .
and she’s not at all what he expected.
And in case you are not yet caught up with all things Seattle Sharks,
take a look at where the series began . . .
BLITZING EMILY
LOVE AND FOOTBALL, BOOK ONE
Emily Hamilton doesn’t trust men. She’s much more comfortable playing the romantic lead on stage in front of a packed house than in her own life. So, when NFL star and irresistible ladies’ man Brandon McKenna acts as her personal white knight, she has no illusions he’ll stick around. However, a misunderstanding with the press throws them together in a fake engagement that yields unexpected (and breathtaking) benefits.
Every time Brandon calls her “Sugar,” Emily almost believes Brandon’s playing for keeps, not just to score. Can she let down her defenses and get her own Happily Ever After?
RUSHING AMY
LOVE AND FOOTBALL, BOOK TWO
For Amy Hamilton, only three F’s matter: Family, Football, and Flowers.
It might be nice to find someone to share Forever with too, but right now she’s working double overtime while she gets her flower shop off the ground. The last thing she needs or wants is a distraction . . . or help, for that matter. Especially in the form of gorgeous and aggravatingly arrogant ex-NFL star Matt Stephens.
Matt lives by a playbook—
his
playbook. He never thought his toughest opponent would come in the form of a stunning florist with a stubborn streak to match his own. Since meeting her in the bar after her sister’s wedding, he’s known there’s something between them. When she refuses, again and again, to go out with him, Matt will do anything to win her heart . . . But will Amy, who has everything to lose, let the clock run out on the one-yard line?
Julie Brannagh has been writing since she was old enough to hold a pencil. She lives in a small town near Seattle, where she once served as a city council member and owned a yarn shop. She shares her home with a wonderful husband, two uncivilized Maine Coons and a rambunctious chocolate Lab.
Julie hasn’t quite achieved the goal of owning a pro football team, so she created a fictional one: The Seattle Sharks. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, or armchair-quarterbacking her beloved Seattle Seahawks from the comfort of the family room couch. Julie is a Golden Heart finalist and the author of four contemporary sports romances.
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Give in to your impulses . . .
Read on for a sneak peek at two brand-new
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Available now wherever e-books are sold.
B
OOK
T
WO:
T
HE
M
C
B
R
IDES
By Jennifer Ryan
Good Girls Don’t Date Rock Stars
By Codi Gary
An Excerpt from
Book Two: The McBrides
by Jennifer Ryan
From
New York Times
bestselling author Jennifer Ryan comes the second book in an unforgettable series about the sexy McBride men of Fallbrook, Colorado. Reformed bad boy Owen McBride will do anything to protect his beautiful neighbor when she gets caught in the crossfire between his client and her abusive ex.
C
laire woke out of a sound sleep with a gasp and held her breath, trying to figure out what had startled her. She listened to the quiet night. Nothing but crickets and the breeze rustling the trees outside. A twig snapped on the ground below her window. Her heart hammered faster, and she sucked in a breath, trying not to panic. Living in the country lent itself to overactive imaginings about things that go bump in the dark night. The noise could be anything from a stray dog or cat to a raccoon on a midnight raid of her garbage cans, even an opossum looking for a little action.
Settled back into her pillow and the thick blankets, she closed her eyes, but opened them wide when something big brushed against the side of the house. Freaked out, she got up from the bed and went to the window. She pulled the curtain back with one finger and peeked through the crack, scanning the moonlit yard below for wayward critters. Not so easy to see with the quarter moon, but she watched the shadows for anything suspicious. Nothing moved.
Not satisfied, and certainly not able to sleep without a more thorough investigation, she padded down the scarred wooden stairs to the living room. She skirted packing boxes and the sofa and went to the window overlooking the front yard. Nothing moved. Still not satisfied, she walked to the dining room, opened the blinds, and stared out into the cold night. Something banged one flower pot into another on the back patio, drawing her away from the dining room, through the kitchen, and to the counter. She grabbed the phone off the charger, went around the island, and tiptoed along the breakfast bar to the sliding glass door. She peeked out, hiding most of her body behind the wall and ducking her head out to see if someone was trying to break into her house. Like she thought, the small pot filled with marigolds had been knocked over and broken against the pot of geraniums beside it. Upset that her pretty pot and flowers were ruined, she moved away from the wall and stood in the center of the glass door to get a better look.
With her gaze cast down on the pots, she didn’t see the man step out from the other side of the patio until his shadow fell over her. Their gazes collided, his eyes going as wide as hers.
“You’re not him,” he said, stumbling back, knocking over a potted pink miniature rose bush, and falling on his ass, breaking the pot and the rose with his legs. She hoped he got stuck a dozen times, but the tiny thorns probably wouldn’t go through his dirt-smudged jeans.
In a rage, she opened the door, but held tight to the handle so she could close it again if he came too close. She yelled, “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’ll get him for this and for sleeping with my wife,” the guy slurred. Drunk and ranting, he gained his feet but stumbled again. “Where is he?” The man turned every which way, looking past her and into her dark house.
“Who?”
“Your lying, cheating, no-good husband.”
“How the hell should I know? I haven’t seen or heard from him in six months.”
“Liar. I saw him drive this way tonight after he fucked my wife at his office and filled her head with more bullshit lies.”
“Listen, I’m sorry if my
ex
is messing with your wife. I left him almost two years ago for cheating on me. Believe me, I know how you feel, but he doesn’t live here.”
“You’re lying. He drove his truck this way and stopped just outside.”
“He doesn’t drive a truck.”
“Stop lying, bitch.”
“I’m not. You have the wrong person.”
“You tell that no-good McBride he better stop seeing my wife. If he thinks a bunch of papers will ever set her free from me, he doesn’t know what I’m capable of, what we have. He’ll be one sorry son of a bitch. She’s mine. I keep what’s mine.”
“You don’t understand.”
“No. You don’t understand,” he said, almost like a whining child. “You tell him, or I’ll make him pay with what’s his.” He pointed an ominous finger at her. “You tell him if he doesn’t leave my wife alone and let her come back to me like she wants, I’m going to hurt you before I come after him.”
An Excerpt from
by Codi Gary
Gemma Carlson didn’t plan on waking up married to her old flame—and her son’s father-turned-country rock star—Travis Bowers, following a night of drunken dares. So she does the only sane thing: she runs!
Travis finally has a second chance, and he doesn’t plan on losing Gemma again—or the son he didn’t know he had. He’s in this for the long haul. Even if it means chasing his long-lost love all over again . . .
“W
hat are you doing here, Travis?”
The rage and frustration that had been simmering below the surface of his skin started to burn. “Why wouldn’t I come here?” He turned around and faced her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You’re my wife. We spent a magical night together, and I just happen to have a break in my tour that allows me to spend several weeks with you.”
“I thought you would—”
“What, Gemma?” His voice was low and dark as he approached her. Grabbing her shoulders, he gave her a gentle shake. “What? You thought I’d just read your letter and be grateful? That I’d think, ‘you know what, she’s right’ and leave you alone, just disappear from your life again?”
She stopped struggling, and he could tell by her expression that was exactly what she’d been thinking.
“This is my home, Travis. You can’t just show up here and disrupt my life,” she hissed.
“I’m not trying to disrupt your life. I just want to know why you left without talking to me. At least trying to work out what happened,” he said.
“What happened is we got drunk and did something stupid. End of story,” she said.
“No, that’s not the end of it, sweetheart,” he snapped before he could rein in his temper. “Like it or not, we’re married. It wasn’t something I planned, but that’s the way things are, and you could have at least given me the courtesy of waking me up and talking about it.”
“What’s there to talk about, Travis? We haven’t seen each other for ten years, and yes, I had fun with you, but we want totally different things,” she said, sounding almost disappointed. “You and I . . . we don’t work anymore. We’re too different. Our worlds are too different.”
He took a calming breath and thought about her words. It was true that their lives were different, but that wasn’t a kill switch for a future. People called alcohol “truth serum,” and if he’d stood up and pledged himself to Gemma legally, deep down he must have wanted it. Which led to a whole new line of crazy he could sift through later, but right now, he needed to make her understand that he took what they’d done seriously. He wasn’t going to let her just sweep it under the rug as a drunken mistake.
Especially since it took two to say “I do.”
He had been developing his strategy the whole drive, and he’d come up with an idea he was going to propose—before he’d lost his cool. He needed to prove that there was more to what happened than a wild weekend gone wrong. Gemma had said he didn’t know her; well, what better way to get to know someone than to date them?
She’d never agree to it, though, until she got over whatever had her in a panic. He needed to show her that it wasn’t over, not just like that. There was too much left between them for “closure” or whatever her letter had said.
And he would prove it to her.
“I thought we were working really well together,” he said softly, his tone seductive. He took her hand, holding it gently when she tried to pull away and caressing the back of it with his thumb. He saw her shiver and smiled as he brought her fingers up to his mouth, his lips hovering above the knuckles as he spoke. “When we were in your hotel room, and I had my hands on your body, running them over your skin . . . you felt so good.” She licked her lips and closed her eyes. He pulled her closer, trailing his lips from her wrist to her elbow. “And the taste of your skin . . . all the little sounds you made when I played with your breasts . . . or when I was deep inside you.”
He wrapped his arms around her, his large hands splaying across the curve of her ass, using it to pull her against him. Her breath whooshed out as he pushed himself against her, knowing she could feel every inch of his erection between them. He felt her relax into him, and her hand held onto his bicep, her eyes opening slowly, meeting his. He saw the matching desire in those mossy depths and dropped his lips to her temple, traveling over her skin until his mouth reached her ear. He nipped the small shell teasingly, and her body tightened against his, making him smile as he added, “I can show you again, if you don’t remember.”
