by Taylor Hart
He’d known she’d find out, but hadn’t known when. “Does it matter?”
“It does when you’re supposed to be in Denver doing special training, which is why I let you out of all the spring branding. Then this shows up in the mail, so yeah, it matters.”
“All my assets are yours. You know that.”
“But you put this one under my name.”
Cam sighed. “Sis, you know your name won’t be flagged by the press piranhas like mine will. Plus, all my assets go into the family trust anyway. We share them.”
Alicia paused. “So you’re hiding?”
“No.”
“What’s going on with you? Why are you in Jackson? Is Tina still in the picture?”
His sister worried about him. That’s what happened when you had a twin who was two minutes older—as she often reminded him. “No. Tina’s not in the picture. My plans changed, okay? Just …” His voice trailed off, and the familiar loneliness pierced the center of his heart. Unwanted emotion surfaced and he blinked it back. “I can’t be on the ranch. There are too many memories.”
Silence. Then she let out a long sigh. “I know, Cam. I know.”
Guilt surged inside him. “I know you do.” Alicia lived on the ranch with her husband and two boys; she’d worked with Dad every day. He sucked in a breath. “Do you need any money for the ranch? ’Cause you know you can just call the attorney and he’ll put more into the fund.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” Her voice was slightly less accusing. “And no, I don’t need money.”
He sank into a deck chair, hating that he’d left her to manage the ranch by herself. Not that she couldn’t do it—she’d been basically running it all the past couple of years—but he hadn’t forgotten his responsibility. They’d made the decision together to keep the ranch after the funeral. He shook his head. “I should be over this.”
“What are you talking about, Cam?” Her voice softened. “There’s no timetable on grief. Don’t you remember Dad used to tell us that all the time?”
The portrait of his mother’s face on his dad’s night table popped into his mind. His mother had died in childbirth, and his dad had never gotten over her.
“Cam, what can I do?”
“Nothing.” She didn’t need his problems too.
“You talked about opening a charity in Dad’s name or something. Have you done anything?”
Honestly, opening a charity seemed so cliché. He didn’t want to treat his dad’s death like it was something ordinary. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”
“Okay,” she said tentatively.
“I’m fine. Really.” He opened his eyes and stubbornly wiped his cheeks. He was fine. He was. He willed it to be so.
She let out another sigh. “Is Tina there?”
“No. Like I said, things ended. They never really had a chance to begin. I just need space.”
“Cam …”
“What?”
“I know you’re struggling, but don’t blame your relationship issues on Dad’s passing.”
He hadn’t been expecting this. “What?”
“Things don’t work out with any of them because you always get bored and put the toy back on the shelf.”
Letting out a long breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re really going to do this right now?”
“No, I’m not.” She sniffed, dismissing the subject. “What are you doing up there?”
“Clearing my head. I bought two horses.”
“I guess that’s a start.”
“It is.” He nodded, thinking about his long ride earlier. “I’ve also been doing some writing.”
“Songwriting?” She sounded skeptical.
He’d thought about being a songwriter before his football career took off, but he really wasn’t much of one. Lately, he’d been working on some stuff—if he could count scribbling some notes and then wadding the paper up and throwing it in the trash working. The guitar strumming helped keep the demons in their box.
“It wasn’t your fault, Cam. You know that, right?”
Alicia had told him this over and over. He knew, logically, the car accident could have happened anywhere. But his dad had been coming to one of his games in Denver last winter. On icy roads. He’d told his dad not to come, but secretly, he’d been happy to have his dad come. Football had been “their” thing; the thing they talked about unceasingly, the thing had cemented their relationship when he was younger. There had been countless hours of playing catch, of his dad coaching him on every team. He had even been the assistant coach when Cam got into high school. Football had been everything to both of them.
It had been a bright spot in life. He still remembered the look on his dad’s face when he’d told him about going pro. Still remembered staying up all night with his dad going over old game tape. Everything about his current life and playing the game was tied to memories of his dad.
Cam had pushed through the end-of-season games. In fact, it’d been commented on in the media that Cam had played better than he had before the funeral.
It ticked him off. How dare they say he played better? But later, in the recesses of his bedroom, praying on his knees, he’d come to peace with it. With the fact he’d played harder and better because he’d been playing for his dad. Only for him.
They’d won the last two games, and his team had taken the championship title from the Destroyers, which had been quite a feat. Legend James still hadn’t commented on it.
But the press was even jumpier about why Cameron was staying silent. That was the main reason he’d bought the house in his sister’s name. She was right—he was hiding. And now she’d found him.
“Anything new with you guys?” he asked.
He imagined her pinching the bridge of her nose, which is what she did when she was worried about something. “We’re good.”
“John?”
“He’s fine. Been doing some roping.”
Cameron didn’t think it was wise for his brother-in-law to still compete in roping competitions because of the risk to his body. But what could he say? He played professional football for a living. “That’s good.”
“Kurt and Jason have been practicing, and Kurt wants to try it out this season.”
Cameron thought of his nephews, who were twelve and eight. “Kurt’s a good athlete. I can see him doing well.” He didn’t like how perfunctory the conversation sounded, but he didn’t have anything else to say.
“Cam?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you okay?”
How did he tell his sister the truth? He couldn’t. “I’m fine. Great. Doing much better.”
“Are you just hermitizing?”
“No.”
“Liar. I would have gotten a Google alert about you if anybody knew you were in Jackson.”
“You’ve set Google alerts for me?”
“Of course.”
This actually made him laugh. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.
“It’s nice to hear you laugh.”
He sucked in a breath. He was doing better here. Coming to Jackson had been good for his soul, so he decided to share. “You’d be happy. I’ve grown out the blond hair.”
She snorted. “What? You’re not dyeing it like the media prima donna you are?”
“You never liked the blond on me.”
“No, I didn’t. I bet you look better.”
“More like my high school self.”
“Exactly.”
“But I have a beard.”
Another light laugh. “Awesome.”
Rubbing his chin, he grinned. “I look like Dad. That’s been … interesting.”
After a beat, she sniffed. “You’ve always looked like him, Cam.”
“I know, but … you know.”
“So you’ve been up there buying a house for me, living it up.”
“‘Living it up’ isn’t quite accurate.”
“Oh sure, you’re probably wrec
king my house, staying up late in the hot tub.” She sighed. “Do I need to talk to you about ownership?”
He grinned. She sounded just like their father used to when he was lecturing him. “Lay it on me.”
“Be careful with my house.”
He sighed. “I’ll try.” Then he had an idea. He said the words before he could think. “You should come up.”
She didn’t hesitate. “When?”
“Um, I don’t know. Two weeks? For the fourth of July?”
“Okay,” she quickly agreed. “The boys will love coming.”
He checked his phone. Two weeks for him to get back to his old self. “Okay.” He breathed out.
“Will you do me a favor?”
The favors his sister always asked him to do while growing up were meant to somehow better him. She’d always had the role of half sister, half mother. “Sure.” She wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway.
“Get out of that house.”
“I get out,” he said defensively.
“I don’t mean go get all in the press. I just … it’s not in your nature to sit around and be a broody songwriter.”
This made him laugh. “I’m totally broody.”
“You’re being ridiculous. I’m the broody one.” Which was true. “Being with people and doing things has always been food for your soul. So get out. Do something. I expect to see some type of Google alert about you soon, or I’ll have to make a run up to Jackson sooner than expected.”
Unable to stop himself, he grinned. “You’re the only person I know who can make a visit sound like a threat.”
She laughed. “Love you, Cam.”
Warmth filled him, and he wondered why he’d waited so long to talk to her. “I love you too.”
Then he got off the phone, and frowned. Now he really did have to get out of the house.
Purchase it or READ FOR FREE in KU HERE!
Also by Taylor Hart
The Undercover Groom is a companion book to several other amazing Taylor Hart Groom books, including—and IN ORDER—if you want that. (They don’t have to be read in order, but some fans like to!)
Do you want to know Cameron Cruz’s story? Click Second String here!
Do you want to know Hunter’s story? Click The Unfinished Groom here!
Do you want to know Cooper’s story? Click The Barefoot Groom here!
Do you want to know Sterling’s story? Click The Masquerading Groom here!
Brooke’s story, The Christmas Groom
NOTE: the next three are the FREESTONE BROTHER’S STORIES—
Damon’s story, Rescue Me: Park City Firefighter Romance (A Bachelor Billionaire Companion)
Luke’s story, The Lost Groom
Nick’s Story, The Undercover Groom
The Last Play Series
Last Play
The Rookie
Just Play
A Player for Christmas
Second String
Snow Valley Series
A Christmas in Snow Valley: The Christmas Eve Kiss
Summer in Snow Valley: First Love
Spring in Snow Valley: The Bet
