Second String: Book 5 Last Play Romance Series

by Taylor Hart

  “No, not yet.” First he needed to tell Kat who he was. He needed to have things a certain way before he offered something like this.

  They chatted for a few more minutes about the property and all the wear and tear.

  Cam noticed the silver-haired realtor come out of the house. The realtor looked up at him and gave him an easy wave and smile as he got into his car. Cam waved back, wondering why he was leaving.

  Jenner cleared his throat. “Cam, now that I’m looking closer, this place might be a money pit. I think that’s why it hasn’t sold. There’s a bunch of unstable buildings that would need to be brought up to code. Would you still be interested?”

  Cam moved toward the house. He hesitated, then made a command decision. “Make an offer on it.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I want it.” With each second, he wanted it more and more. For her. For him. For … them. He didn’t care that this whole thing between him and Kat was messy; all he knew was how he felt about her wasn’t messy.

  “All right, buddy. I’ll put it in.”

  “Thanks.” He pressed end and moved toward the steps, taking them two at a time.

  Walking into the house, he smelled the dust and rot of a place left unattended. What he hadn’t been expecting was to see the furniture still there, covered with sheets of white cloth. “Kat?” Cam called out.

  No answer.

  He wandered through the hallway to a large living area. He looked around, wondering where she was. “Kat!” he said in a louder voice.

  Nothing.

  When he got to the kitchen door, he looked out the window. There she was, on the tire swing, leaning back with her eyes closed and one leg kicked up.

  For a second, he was breathless. She looked younger, like the weight of stress and heartache had been lifted off her shoulders. Her skin almost glowed in the sun.

  Weaving his way through the back door and down the deck, he slowly walked towards her. She was a magnet he couldn’t stay away from.

  “Hey,” she said as he got closer, and she righted herself.

  He stepped behind her and gave her a push.

  “Whoa.” She laughed. It was that delicious happy laugh that he loved to hear.

  “Why’d the realtor take off?” he asked as he kept pushing.

  She sighed and leaned back, closing her eyes again. “Man, this brings back so many memories.” She cleared her throat. “I told him to leave because I just …” Her voice broke.

  He took hold of the swing, pulling it to a stop. He couldn’t see her face, but he could hear her sniffling. Lightly, he put a hand on her head, and she leaned into it for a second. Then she unwrapped herself from the swing. She stood on the thick grass, pulled off her Storm hat, and threw the sunglasses and hat to the side. She kicked off her shoes and moved a bit away from him, standing barefoot on the grass.

  She started spinning in circles, eyes closed. “I remember being a child and doing this.” She sniffed. “I remember coming here and being bored out of my mind. No friends around. Nothing to distract me.” She stopped spinning and fell into a heap onto the grass, laughing and flinging herself back. “Isn’t it funny I was bored? Bored. I mean, for heaven’s sake … can you imagine being bored at this point in your life?”

  Slowly, he moved to her. “Yeah.”

  Her eyes flashed open, briefly. “I guess this is more of me living in a fairytale.”

  His heart beat erratically. She was so beautiful. So vulnerable. He sat down on the grass. “Sometimes fairytales come true.”

  She let out a ripple laugh. “Right.”

  On impulse, he lay down on the grass too, but he positioned himself so only their heads touched.

  “Oh.” She reached back and touched his hat with her hand and pulled it off. “Hey.”

  Loving the feel of her hand in his hair, he sank deeper into the grass and stared up at the sky. “Hey.”

  She stopped, but kept her hand in his hair. “You didn’t know you’d get the drama of heartbreak and the drama of childhood issues all in the same week.”

  Reaching up, he took her hand into his. “I like drama.”

  She laughed. “Right.” But she didn’t pull away. “Cam …”

  “Yes?”

  “Thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “Just … being here.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment, wanting to say something that wouldn’t sound cheesy. He settled for saying, “I want to be here.”

  She sighed, and they both stayed that way for a long time—heads together, holding hands. “I shouldn’t be holding your hand.”

  “Why?”

  “I just broke up with my boyfriend.”

  “But I’ve been second string boyfriend.”

  This made her laugh. “You told me first string friend.”

  He grinned and moved into position beside her, taking her hand, again.

  Kat stared into his eyes, then looked at his lips.

  He wanted to kiss her.

  “I … I feel weird.”

  “I don’t.”

  This made her laugh.

  “So you’re good with second-string?”

  Screwing up his face, he tilted his head to the side and couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and lightly touch her chin. “Maybe I’m vying for a new position.” He wanted to tell her who he was. Just say it. But now didn’t seem like the right time. He could hear the pounding of his blood rushing through his ears. Dang, he wanted to kiss her. “Why did the realtor leave?”

  “He told me the price of the house right now.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s in foreclosure for fifteen million.”

  It didn’t feel appropriate to tell her he already knew that. “I see.”

  Letting go of his hand, she let out a breath. “It’s going to be tricky finding that much grant money.” She scoffed. “It is the government.”

  “The space issue.”

  She looked confused.

  “Rich people have more space.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t think about it, but you’re exactly right. I guess I should look somewhere else for property.”

  “I’ll help you.” He offered.

  Instantly, her eyes filled with tears. “You will?”

  “I will.”

  She blinked and let out a light laugh. “Great.” She stared at his lips. “Do you want to kiss me?”

  The question took him off guard, especially combined with the intense way she was looking at him. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

  Her lip turned up. “I think so. But I don’t want you to think I’m that kind of girl.”

  “What kind of girl is that? All he could think about was the freshness of her tan. The perfect gold of her hair. The way she was like the sun to him—bright and happy. He put his hand on her hip and pulled her to him.

  “The kind that goes from guy to guy."

  “I don’t.” He leaned in and when she put her lips to his, it was … surreal. He felt like he was watching a movie. He breathed in the scent of her strawberry lip gloss and the grass.

  She giggled.

  He pulled back, smiling. “You like that, Foster?”

  But she pulled him back to her, their lips meeting, again and it was just like when he’d first kissed her, after she’d almost drowned. Passion exploded inside of him. She left a trail of kisses over his face. His breathing was heavy, and he felt her breath against his cheek.

  “Kat, I have to tell you something,” he murmured between kisses.

  She kept kissing him, distracting him.

  He laughed and held her tighter, not wanting this to end. “Kat, I mean it.”

  Pulling back, she smiled and propped herself onto one elbow. “Okay, cowboy, shoot.”

  Propping himself up to match her, he found his mouth going dry. He looked at her messed-up hair and vulnerable face, and he didn’t know what to say. “I …”

  She frowned. “Are you worried I’m on the reboun
d? Because I probably am.”

  Staring at her vulnerable green eyes, every part of him wanted to protect her. He didn’t want to ruin what they were only beginning. “I’m okay being a rebound.”

  She laughed. “Just shut up and make out with me.”

  Chapter 21

  Kat sat in her sunroom, trying to get something written. The process was slow—so very slow. She kept thinking about how Cam’s lips felt on hers, and she giggled at the memory.

  It’d been like a teenager makeout session. She’d only had that kind once before. It had happened during a summer visit to Jackson Hole. She had met this incredibly hot older river guide. He was a college student. Back then, her grandfather still owned the place, and all the guys were warned to stay away from her. There had been an instant attraction between them, and he’d even been all charisma with her grandfather too.

  It had only been a summer fling, but Kat smiled as she thought of how obsessed she’d been with that college boy. At the time, she’d found him so sophisticated and lovely and hot.

  Her mind flashed back to Cam. He was also amazingly hot. The feel of his abs through his shirt sent her into another daydream of kissing him again.

  She stood. This was ridiculous. She wasn’t sixteen, and she’d barely broken up with her boyfriend.

  Steven. He’d left three texts demanding she call him. There were four voicemails she hadn’t checked.

  Forget him. Bringing her parents into everything had been his biggest mistake. How had she ever thought they were compatible?

  She was startled from her thoughts when her phone buzzed. Thinking it was Steven, she ignored it, but it kept buzzing. Finally, she answered it.

  “Hello. Is this Katherine Foster?”

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Earl. The realtor from earlier today.”

  “Right.” She’d given him her number before he’d left, telling him she wanted updates on the house. That had been before she’d decided she’d have to find a different house.

  He chuckled. “I can’t believe it, but it makes sense after I thought about it.”

  “What?”

  “There’s been an offer for the house.”

  “Oh.” Her heart sank, even though she’d already known it was a possibility.

  “I think it was from that friend of yours.”

  This confused her. “I—I don’t understand.”

  “From Cameron Cruz,” he said. His tone made it sound like she should totally get it.

  “Did you meet Cam?” She thought she remembered Cam leaving without introducing himself to the realtor.

  The realtor laughed again. “Why didn’t you tell me he was that football player?”

  Kat was stunned. Football. The Storm hat. His athletic build. It hit her like a bolt of lightning. She remembered seeing a stupid billboard with Cam’s face on it; the billboard image of his real, grinning face, framed by blond hair and a football helmet, pounded into her mind.

  “Uh, right. Yes. My friend.” The liar.

  “Well, he’s put in an offer for the property. You probably already knew.”

  “No, I didn’t know.”

  “Oh.” She could only imagine what the realtor thought their relationship was. “You didn’t?”

  Kat could feel herself shaking. “I gotta go.”

  Bolting out of her chair, she almost knocked her computer off of her lap. Her heart raced, and every part of her was on edge.

  Leaving all of her things, she busted out of the sunroom and rushed out of the house, taking care to lock the sliding door. Cameron Cruz. Cameron Cruz. The big … faker!

  Stopping, she tried to suck in breaths and get herself under control. He’d acted like a “poor songwriter.” Well, okay—not poor, necessarily. He had said that he and his dad had businesses together.

  She scoffed. “I’m sure you do have businesses.”

  Sucking in a breath, she paced around the deck. The afternoon sun warmed her face. Closing her eyes, she soaked it in.

  She felt like a fool. Now that she knew who Cam was, she sifted through her mind, putting it all together. He probably thought she was such an idiot because she didn’t recognize him.

  The beard made sense. The bushy way his hair looked. Honestly, he’d done a great job not being Cameron Cruz. Plus, the ball cap and sunglasses helped. He definitely hadn’t looked like his media self.

  Shaking her head, she dropped it into her hand and laughed. Only she—a completely anti-football, totally-in-her-own-head, academic-obsessed, never-watching-the-media kind of person—would not recognize him after all the hours they’d spent together.

  She focused on the view off of her balcony. The only question on her mind was, why? Why hadn’t he told her?

  She thought of earlier at the ranch. He’d said, “I have to tell you something.” Was that it?

  Or did he even plan on telling her? Was she just some summer fling to him?

  Kat made a decision. She trudged back into the sunroom and opened her computer, Googling Cameron Cruz. Picture after picture of him in football gear, or parading around with a supermodel on his arm appeared. Scrolling through them, she wondered how many of them he’d quote ‘put back on the shelf.’ How many?

  Her heart plummeted. Did she mean anything to him? Thinking about every interaction with Cam, the only thing she was left with was more confusion.

  She would find out. Tonight.

  Chapter 22

  Cam left the Junto meeting feeling even more alive. The group had discussed a few projects that they thought would be worthy of “developing.” Kat’s project was one of them. But when would he tell her? A nervous happiness coursed through him. He felt so different with Kat in his life—a better version of himself.

  He stopped by his house and grabbed his guitar, then went to his favorite Chinese place and got more things than he could possibly eat by himself. He drove to the house she was taking care of and pulled to the side of the road in front of the main house.

  Whipping out his phone, he texted her: Do you like Chinese?

  Less than thirty seconds later, she responded: Why?

  He’d already pulled into the little driveway by the cottage and parked next to her red Volkswagen bug. He got out and rushed to her door, then texted back: Because I’m at your doorstep with Chinese.

  Almost immediately, he heard a sliding door close and looked over to the big house. She dashed across the large deck and down the steps. Her hair was piled on top of her head with some type of claw thing, and wisps of it hung down around her face. She wore black yoga pants with a long white sweater that fell halfway off her shoulder.

  He was struck by how beautiful she could look without doing any work. She had on the black-rimmed librarian glasses again, but she quickly tugged them off.

  He grinned at her. “Hey.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked suspicious. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  Pausing for a second, the little space between her eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t know, what?”

  Unsure if she was acting weird or if she was still on the heels of her breakup, he shrugged it off. “Dinner?”

  “Seriously?” She threw up a hand in question.

  “Do you want some or not?”

  “Chinese? It’s eight o’clock at night!”

  “But have you eaten?”

  “No.” She relented. A small smile played at her lips.

  It was all the encouragement he needed. He reached out and tugged her to him, gently kissing her. “Perfect.”

  Melting into him, she kissed him back. Tentative at first, but then with more passion.

  Dropping the bag of Chinese onto the driveway, he pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

  She giggled through the kiss, but he didn’t stop, trailing kisses to her jawline. “Man, I’ve missed you.”

  More giggling. “You haven’t been out with some other woman?”

  Grinning, liking that she was joking, he kept brushing his lips to hers
. “Nope.”

  Pushing her hands into his hair, she pulled him closer. “Chinese food is just empty calories.”

  Keeping his lips to hers, he whispered. “Perfect. We can go get dessert later.”

  Abruptly, she stopped kissing him, peering into his eyes. “Tell me, why are you here?”

  “To hang out. I think I could write more music if you’re with me.”

  She hesitated.

  He took another kiss. “And to make sure you don’t starve.”

  She rolled her eyes, pulling away. “I have to work, I’m sure there’s someone else you could go make out with.”

  He was confused. “What?” He released her.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “You said your sister says you put the toys back on the shelf fast.”

  This was ridiculous. “Well, you’re not a toy.”

  Looking caught, the side of her lip curled up. “I’m not?”

  Trying to lighten the mood, he spoke quickly. “Look, I know you need to work, but I think it would just help to have you nearby. I think it would stimulate the creative juices.” He pointed at her. “It’d help you, too. Music has been proven to help when writing dissertations,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Really?” She gave him a disbelieving look.

  He held firm. “I swear I read that in Forbes last year.”

  “You read Forbes?”

  “I told you, I’m a businessman too.” He could tell she was on the cusp of relenting, so he gave her a puppy-dog look, the one his sister said got him anything. “Please? You’d be giving a song writer inspiration.”

  She held his gaze. “Is that all you are—a song writer?”

  It was a pointed question, but for some reason, he didn’t want to deal with the intensity she was throwing at him. “No. That’s not all I am. Hmm, let’s see. I’m a collector of rare coins. I’m a popsicle lover. I’m afraid of snakes. I …”

  She laughed. “A popsicle lover?”

  “Yep.”

  “You’re…silly, you know that?”

  “I’ve been called worse.” He kept the puppy-dog look in place.

  She looked him up and down.

  Nervous energy flashed through him. It felt like she was a teacher trying to decide whether to give him a hall pass or not. “What are you doing?”