by Lyssa Layne
My trance is broken when the door flings open, pounding into the wall behind it. Camila stands in the doorway, looking pissed, her eyebrows narrowed and her lips pursed. She points at me and waves her finger. “Get undressed.”
“What?”
“New idea, get undressed. Wardrobe and make-up will be here in five minutes and don’t you dare be a diva,” she warns and turns without another word.
Wearing nothing but a pair of extra small boxer briefs and a spray-on tan, the photographer’s assistant walks me in front of the camera. I squint from all the lights and look around for Camila, but she’s nowhere to be seen. Raul, a middle-aged, dark-skinned man with platinum blonde hair leans out from behind the camera.
“Your partner will be here in a moment,” he says without even making eye contact. I don’t care if he is the best photographer in the world, the man is fuckin’ full of himself.
“My partner?” I question, still oblivious to what the hell is going on.
“Your partner.” I turn toward Camila’s voice and see her walking toward me. Her brown hair is unnaturally wavy and teased high, her usual beautiful face is covered in make-up, making her look like a Barbie doll, but unlike me, she’s not covered in spray tan. Her natural, Brazilian skin is the only part of her right now that is the real Camila. My eyes travel up and down her scantily covered body, wearing only a nude colored thong and strapless bra.
“No Gladiator, lovers instead,” Raul barks from behind the camera.
Camila steps in front of me and I desperately want to reach out for her. I’ve missed her, not just her sexy body, but her. The woman that laughs with me, that listened to me cry, the woman that I once trusted. The woman I want to be my lover.
Her eyes narrow and she’s obviously not happy. “Don’t say a word, Evan. I’m saving both our asses right.”
Even if I wanted to comment, I couldn’t. Raul moves beside us, shoving my hand on her ass and positioning her arms on my chest. He snaps a series of shots, trying to get the vibe of Camila begging for me, but the poses aren’t coming naturally for either of us and Raul is screaming. If it weren’t for being able to touch Camila, I would’ve broken the man’s fuckin’ camera by now.
Camila turns to the camera. “Raul, can we try a few things on our own?”
The irritated photographer throws up his hand, beginning a rant about how he’s an expert and knows more than she does. Camila ignores him and looks up at me. “Follow me, okay?”
She turns her back to me, leaning against my body and the teeny, tiny briefs do nothing to hide my excitement for her. Camila moves my arm under hers so that it crosses her stomach. She pushes both her breasts into my hand that easily holds both. My other hand goes to her hip, gently rubbing my thumb over the thin material of her thong. She pauses ever so slightly then looks up at me, her hand moving to my neck and we gaze into each other’s eyes.
The camera starts clicking and Raul’s rant turns to shouts of praise. “Closer, Evan, get in her face!”
I lean down, our lips just a breath away. Camila moves her hips against me, teasing my erection and I don’t hide the moan she elicits. Not taking her eyes off me, she whispers, “Evan, I wanted our night in Chicago. I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
My hands tighten on her and I move to close the space between our lips as Raul shouts, “Perfect! That’s a wrap!”
Camila holds my gaze just a second longer then slips away from me, running down the hallway. I call out after her, but don’t move to chase her. I’m not going to start that habit, no matter how much I want to.
Raul walks across the room and slaps his hand on my back. “Looks like Miss Lemos has someone in an uproar,” he comments and falls into a fit of laughter.
Glancing down, I see the tip of my cock is trying to escape out of the top of the boxer briefs. Shoving my way past Raul, I huff to my dressing room. Do I believe what Camila said or is this her being a tease again? Fuck it, I don’t know, and I’m sure I can find someone to take care of this raging hard on. Opening the door, I see a smiling brunette down the hallway, hiding behind a clothes rack and waving. I grin, exactly what I need. I start to motion for her to come in but that ginger and floral scent catches my attention. Turning my head, I see Camila already dressed and running out of the building. I sigh and slam the door shut, not knowing at all what I want.
Chapter 14
Camila
Pacing back and forth across my co-worker’s office at Netsports, I throw up my hands in frustration. “I’m at my wits end, Kip. I’ve played out every possible scenario and none of them seem to be in Evan’s benefit. The Lancers claim they want Blake so they put the offer for Evan out there in hopes that the Seawolves will overpay Evan and cut Blake go. The Seawolves will easily give up Evan for Blake and aren’t willing to budge on their preposterous offer as of now.” I drop to the chair across from his desk with a loud sigh.
Kip Deevers interlocks his fingers, tapping his index ones together. Good, this means he’s thinking. It’s been a month since Evan’s offers first appeared in my inbox and I’ve been awake every night trying to figure out the best possible option for him. I wish I could say that’s the only reason I haven’t gotten any sleep lately, but it’s not, especially not after the cologne photoshoot. I hate being in front of the camera and I’d love to admit I only offered to model with him to save the ad, but I wanted to feel Evan against me again. Caught up in the moment, I admitted too much and ran off like a coward and haven’t heard from him since.
“So, if Evan declines the Seawolves then who knows what the Lancers will really offer,” Kip comments, thinking out loud with his eyebrows furrowed.
“I talked to Walter Feiser’s office and it all depends on what Blake does. If Blake signs with them, they won’t offer Evan anything. If Blake stays with the Seawolves, they’ll honor their offer.”
“Sounds like you’ve got to talk Blake into staying with the Seawolves so his little brother doesn’t get screwed.” Kip stands, walking to the desk by his window and pouring himself a Scotch.
I close my eyes and lean my head back. “Yeah, but Evan wants no part to do with Chicago. He only wants San Diego.”
A chill runs down my neck and when I open my eyes, Kip is holding another glass of Scotch on the rocks against my skin. I take it from him, letting the warm whiskey roll down my throat.
“Then I guess you need to start convincing Evan Purser how great the Windy City is.”
With that thought, I down the rest of the alcohol and stand up. “Yeah, Kip, thanks for your help.”
With a chuckle, he pats my shoulder. “They don’t say you’re the best for no reason. I’m sure you can do it, Cam.”
I nod, letting him know that I appreciate his confidence in me. Honestly, I think Evan Purser will walk away from the NFL before Chicago is even an option in his mind. I have to figure something out before Evan throws away his career.
Entering my office, my desk phone rings. I answer, pushing the thought out of my mind, ready for a distraction. On the other end is a hysterical woman screaming into the phone in Spanish. Even though I’m fluent in the language, among others, she’s speaking so fast I can’t understand a word she’s saying.
“Cálmese, señorita, cálmese,” I say, encouraging her to calm down.
The rambling continues until I hear her take a breath. A few seconds pass and then the woman whispers so quietly I can barely hear her. Unfortunately, I can.
“Señora Purser esta muerto.”
The line goes silent and I fall into my seat, my heart sinking to my stomach. Mrs. Purser is dead.
Evan
Sprinting around the curve of the track, I excel my speed, trying to beat my last time. I cross the finish line and glance at my watch, two seconds slower. The tunes of Foster the People seeps out of the stereo and I swear if someone doesn’t change the station, I’ll rip the speakers off the wall myself. This is bullshit that I have to work out on my own. I should be at training camp with the rest of
my teammates, but Camila hasn’t worked “her magic” as Blake likes to call it, so I’m stuck at the gym by myself.
Glancing over at the free weight section, there’s a group of college guys in their bro tanks standing around bragging about how much they can bench press. I roll my eyes and keep walking. There’s a lot more to getting bulky than just lifting weights. Does anyone really think I enjoy running sprints or doing parachute speed training workouts? Hell no!
Back at the starting line, I pull my foot up to my thigh, holding the position and stretching my quad. I may not have a trainer keeping an eye on me, but I’ve been here before. Alone and dedicated to no one but myself. Too bad, I want to be dedicated to someone this time.
I close my eyes, picturing Camila against me at the photoshoot and quickly shake my head. No, she’s just a tease, trying to control me with her body. If she doesn’t get her shit together and get a better offer on the table from the Seawolves, then I’m going to be in the market for another agent.
Kicking my legs, making sure I’m good and loose, I reset my watch and take off. Despite being three-hundred-pounds, I’m light on my feet. A smile creeps over my lips as I know I’m going to beat my previous time and will finally cut myself a break for the day. I round the last turn and almost skid to a stop.
I slow to a jog, totally killing the record pace I was setting. When I reach the finish line, I breeze past Camila, pretending I don’t see her although it’s hard to miss her when she’s wearing a blouse that only has two buttons ending below her chestline. A lucky necklace hangs between her cleavage, drawing even more attention to her perfect breasts.
Surprisingly, I don’t hear her call after me and when I glance over my shoulder, she’s still standing in the same spot, a frown on her face. I sigh, stopping at the water fountain for a drink before walking to her. I inhale deeply, drawing my shoulders up purposely so I can loom over her even more. When I look down into her face, she doesn’t appear amused.
“Evan, I need to talk to you,” she says, her voice somber.
I roll my eyes. “What? You managed to piss off both teams and I don’t have any offers now?”
Camila averts her eyes, staring at the floor. I shake my head and scoff. Un-fucking-believable, she’s really out to screw me over. She’s got to be fucking my brother. I bet Blake put her up to all this. Get Evan to fall for you Cam, then crush him and send him to the freezefest of football. Other than turn down his offer to leave Mom, I’ve never done anything to him to be treated this way. I start to ball up my fists when Camila’s hand is on mine. A shiny ring on her index finger flashes in the sunlight and I look up at her.
Her hand tightens on mine and she speaks softly. “Evan…it’s your mom.”
The blood in my veins turns ice cold and I freeze, waiting for Camila to go on, but she doesn’t. A tear slips out of her eye and rolls down her cheek instead. Shaking my head, I begin to mutter, “No, no, no…”
My own weight is too much to handle and I drop to my knees. It’s slow motion as I feel myself in mid-air and the second my legs hit the ground, Camila’s arms are pulling me against her. My head rests on those two buttons of her blouse as she cradles me, rubbing my bald scalp. I can hear her telling me she talked to the police but I block out her words, focusing on the words of the music overhead. Closing my eyes, hoping this is just a dream and I’ll wake up any moment. I wrap my arms around her legs and feel her body against mine, confirming this isn’t a dream, but a nightmare.
Chapter 15
Evan
Blake and Camila stand at the front of the funeral home, the epitome of the perfect couple. They greet the people who have stood in line for hours, not to say goodbye to our mother, but to see the NFL brothers. Blake had to pull me off of Buddy Dunn, the high school quarterback whose beer belly is bigger than his wife’s pregnant one, after he asked me to sign a Seawolves hat for his kiddo in front of my mother’s casket.
Camila walked outside with me, but didn’t interrupt my tirade of my hatred for this town. My hometown, the place where our father left my mother, my brother left her, and then I went and did the same thing. Left her all by herself in a town of thousands who let her drink herself to her death and now, here they are acting like they give two shits about her when all they want is a glimpse at a couple professional athletes. Once I ran out of words, Camila walked me to the far corner of the room where no one could see me, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and took my spot next to Blake, thanking the posers for coming to say their goodbyes.
“Taking it pretty hard, huh?”
The pew creaks under the weight of someone sitting beside me. My mouth opens, ready to go off when I see my old high school coach sitting beside me. His combover is the exact same, not hiding anything and I’m shocked he’s not wearing the polyester Rawlings coaching shorts he wore every day on the football field when I played for him.
Nodding, I lean over and we give that awkward male hug/pat on the back. “Something like that, Coach.”
“It’s always tough to lose a parent, especially one as young and beautiful as your mother.”
Coach Greyson was the only father-figure that Blake and I ever had. He stayed after practice working extra with us, brought leftovers for lunch since our mom never cooked, and I’m pretty sure the Christmas presents under our tree weren’t from our mother, although she always took the credit. I stare blankly ahead at Camila and Blake where she pats his back and he nods at the person in front of him. Wow, they’re a great pair of actors.
“She was proud of you boys, told me just last week that Blake was dating a smart, successful woman.”
I guffaw. “Yeah, she’s a real jewel. Where did you see her?”
“The Mrs. and I dropped dinner off on Sunday.”
My jaw drops and I turn to him. Coach pats my leg. “Just because her boys are gone, doesn’t mean Ann wasn’t still family to us. Now, tell me what’s going on with you.”
I can’t believe Coach was still taking care of her, just like he did for our whole family. I shake my head, laughing at the disbelief. Assuming Coach wants the inside scoop on who I’ll be playing for next season, I tell him I haven’t got a clue.
“Not your career, Evan. You, what’s going on with you?”
I look up and see Camila staring at me. She raises her eyebrows and I realize that she’s wondering if I’m okay sitting next to this man beside me. I nod, letting her know it’s fine, but she doesn’t look away. Her brown eyes stay trained on me and a hollow feeling washes over me.
“I don’t know, Coach. I honestly don’t have a fuckin’ clue.”
“Language, boy,” he warns. “Now, what’s the problem? You’re a big shot in the NFL, got money, got fame, but something missing?”
Camila is talking to one of the fakes but she bounces her gaze off them to me, the woman in front of her not even realizing she doesn’t have Camila’s full attention.
“You could say that. I guess…I don’t know, I guess I’m just lonely.”
A big belly laugh escapes from Coach, catching the attention from everyone in the room. They stop what they’re doing, shocked to hear someone laughing at a wake. I shake my head, joining his laughter. When we both calm down, he looks at me. “No women to keep you company?”
“Oh, there’s plenty of women, Coach, just not from the one I want.” My eyes meet Camila’s and my heart aches even deeper. Honestly, I didn’t want to be anywhere else than in her arms when I got the news about my mother. Camila is my safe place and I hate it.
Coach turns his head and nods. “Ah, she interested in someone else?”
I shrug and lean back against the hard wood of the church bench. “Something like that.”
“Does she know how you feel? Have you told her?”
Coach reclines beside me and we both watch as Blake moves his hand to Cami’s waist, pulling her toward him. I sigh and shake my head. “No use.”
“No use? What kind of attitude is that? The Evan Purser I remember never just rolled o
ver and gave up. No, he walked up to that line of scrimmage and growled at his opponent, daring him to cross the line.”
“Coach, football is different and it’s obvious there’s no use fighting for her.”
“You’re sitting here, pissed off at all these people who are here who never gave a rat’s ass about your mother. Am I right? You think they’re all phony?”
I nod. “Yeah, exactly.”
“Well, if you don’t use that same determination off the field as you do on the field then you’re a fake just like all of them.”
Wow, a punch in the gut. “Come on, Coach. This is diff—”
“Different? I don’t think so. You’re settling, just like Buddy Dunn. He could’ve played ball in college, maybe gotten drafted, but you know what? He didn’t put in the effort. He settled for a job at his dad’s shop and gave up. You have nothing to lose, Evan. Give your brother a run for his money and see who comes out the man on top.”
I nod, I don’t want to fuckin’ settle. That’s exactly what my mom did. She got knocked up with Blake, married our asshole father, and when he left, she drank herself into oblivion, never trying to rise above it. I’m not going to be mediocre. I’m going to push myself outside my limits. Fuck San Diego, Chicago here I come.
Camila
The hearse leads the processional from the funeral home to the cemetery. I sit between the Purser brothers, neither of them speaking. In fact, Evan hasn’t said a word since I broke the news to him back in San Diego and we’ve pretty much been together non-stop. Immediately, the two of us flew to Florida and I began planning the funeral on my own, Evan was by my side but wanted no part in making decisions and Blake couldn’t fly down until the next day.
I reach over and take Evan’s hand in mine. He doesn’t pull it away, but he doesn’t acknowledge it either. While he hasn’t said it, I know Evan blames himself because he wasn’t with her. Hell, I’m blaming myself because I didn’t push the brothers to follow-through on the idea to move her to California. I tighten my hand around his and rest my head on his shoulder.
