Catching Cameron: A Love and Football Novel

by Julie Brannagh

  “How did you all survive?”

  “Our grandma lived with us after Mom died. The girls got Social Security benefits because our mom had passed away, and Grandma had a little bit of a pension. Keeping up with my sisters was tough for her, but she managed to do it until I could take over.” She saw his mouth twitch. “It sure wasn’t filet mignon and pommes frites at our house for dinner. There was lots of Top Ramen, peanut butter sandwiches, and macaroni and cheese from a box, but it kept them fed, and I was grateful. A couple of the alumni pointed us toward some help with clothes, shoes, utility bills, stuff like that. It was a good feeling to make enough money so I could handle it myself.”

  She still wavered between a kernel of disbelief that her father would go to the extent Zach claimed he had, and feeling the most intense humiliation she could remember. Her father had attempted to destroy Zach’s life and his immediate family because Cameron married him on a whim. Her attempt to gain some freedom from her meddling, overbearing parents had almost ended in tragedy for six people who had nothing to do with her family problems.

  She reached out to lay one hand over his. He covered her small hand with his bigger, rougher one. She bowed her head. For someone who made a living by talking, she was fresh out of anything besides an abject apology. She also resisted the impulse to pick up her phone and call her father on the spot. There would be time for that after Zach went to bed. She had a feeling it was going to be a long and very unpleasant conversation, and she would prefer to have it behind a locked door.

  “So, Cameron, to make a long story short, I didn’t leave you. I’m sorry I could never tell you why I didn’t come back to our room. I wasn’t sure if your family ever told you what happened.”

  “Oh, they told me something, but evidently it wasn’t the truth.” She looked up into his eyes. “I’m the one who owes you and your family an apology, not the other way around.”

  “I thought you called your dad to rescue you, and I was pretty upset at the time. It took a while, but I finally realized I wasn’t quite what they had in mind for you.” The candle in front of them flickered as he spoke. “I thought you’d marry someone else and I’d never see you again.”

  She could tell him she’d never forgotten him, no matter who she went out with or how attracted she might be to another guy. She could tell him that she’d let her job take over instead of dating the guys her parents threw in her path, too. She didn’t want any of the men her parents approved of because their lives were dominated by social climbing or the fact they wanted her family’s fortune, not her. She’d spent the past ten years wondering if the little glimpse of Zach she’d had during their three days together was everything she believed him to be. They’d spent most of those seventy-two hours in bed. Maybe the cold light of day, and living together for a longer period of time, would bring the same shock and dismay a bucket of ice water might provide.

  Maybe the cold light of day would have shown she’d made the right decision, and she could be happy for a lifetime with a man who’d already proven he wasn’t afraid to take a risk.

  When training camp was over, he’d walk out of her life again without a second thought. She had twenty-eight days to get to know him, and to show him she was her own woman now. She had those same twenty-eight days to try to make amends to him and his family for what her father had allegedly—and she was fairly sure he wouldn’t admit to it anyway—done to them.

  She also had twenty-eight days to see if her feelings were more than a whim.

  “I didn’t marry anyone else,” she said. His hand tightened slightly over hers. “I was afraid he might leave me, too.” She heaved a sigh. “Maybe I wasn’t enough.”

  “Not true,” Zach said as he shook his head vigorously. Heavy footsteps sounded behind him.

  “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, honey,” Drew McCoy called out to Zach. He walked up to the table, grabbed the can of whipped cream, and shot some into his mouth. “It’s bedtime.”

  DREW HELPED ZACH and Cameron load the few utensils and bowls Zach had used for their dessert into the dishwasher. Drew and Zach had fifteen minutes to make it back to their rooms before they would be fined one hundred dollars a minute. The trip through the Sharks’ administrative floor to the stairway was accomplished at a sprint. Cameron wasn’t out of shape, but she couldn’t hope to keep up with a couple of pro athletes. Drew stopped at the doorway to the stairs and motioned for her to hop onto his back.

  “Piggy back ride up the stairs,” he said. “More cardio for me.”

  Zach turned halfway up the first flight of stairs to glare at him. Drew didn’t seem to care. He squatted a little until Cameron threw her arms around him from behind, and he hoisted her up onto his back. She tried to avoid pulling on his long blond ponytail as they went.

  She hadn’t had a piggy back ride since she was a kid, but she was a little surprised at how fast he climbed the stairs while carrying someone else. He threw open the fire door, swung her onto her feet, and said, “We’ll make it if we run.”

  She glanced over at Zach. “Good night,” she said. “Thank you for the dessert.”

  He gave her a nod. “Good night,” he said.

  Drew grabbed her arm. “You can visit with each other tomorrow. Come on.”

  A minute or so later, she was in her room again, and she heard Drew’s voice through the door. “Good night, Cameron.”

  “Thanks for the ride,” she called out. She heard him laugh, and the hallway was quiet again. Two minutes later, she heard the slam of the fire door, followed by male voices, as the coaching staff went from room to room.

  It was two am in New York City. No matter how angry and embarrassed she was at what Zach had told her, she wasn’t going to be able to talk with her father until tomorrow morning. She threw herself down on the bed with a groan and willed her heart rate to slow a little. She didn’t think she was going to be able to sleep at all, and she didn’t have time for insomnia.

  She shoved herself off the bed, washed her face, brushed her teeth, and scrambled into a pair of pajamas. She knew she needed to tape the latest episode of NFL Confidential tomorrow, and she and Zach weren’t done with their conversation. He’d done a remarkable job of shielding his family from the press. Most NFL teams’ PR departments would kill to highlight such a tragic but triumphant story on their broadcasts, but he evidently valued his sisters’ and grandmother’s privacy enough not to subject them to it. She certainly wouldn’t report the story, even though doing so would give her a huge boost with PSN. It would make things worse for Zach. He’d suffered enough.

  She grabbed her iPad off its charger and made a quick check of some of the more prominent sports-related websites. She saw reports of the Sharks’ “players only” meeting this afternoon, but nobody seemed to have any quotes on what was discussed. Maybe she should try asking Drew McCoy, otherwise known as her closest dorm neighbor, what happened. He’d either blow her off, or point her toward whoever on the team was known to be a Chatty Cathy.

  Cameron texted her dad’s smart phone: I HAVE TO WORK THIS WEEKEND. DON’T SEND THE PLANE. I’LL SEE YOU AND MOM SOON. She sat down in the desk chair and tapped on the screen of her iPad, preparing to do a little research, but she couldn’t concentrate on work. She kept seeing the look on Zach’s face as he told her what had really happened ten years ago, which was not what she’d been led to believe. The brownies she’d eaten sat in her stomach like a lump, too.

  She dropped her head into her hands. It was going to be a long, sleepless night.

  Chapter Twelve

  * * *

  THE SUN WAS punching Zach in the face. He opened his eyes long enough to focus on the bedside clock: 5:45 AM. He needed to grab a bite and do some lifting before practice. He wondered if Cameron had gotten any sleep at all; he hadn’t gotten much himself. He stretched and threw one forearm over his eyes. That would teach him to leave the freaking blinds open overnight.

  He kept seeing the look on Cameron’s face when he told her t
he truth about his life. He’d told interviewers for years that any questions about his living situation or his family were off-limits. The Sharks’ PR department gave out a fictional bio someone with an extremely good imagination had thought up. He’d answer questions about football, he’d entertain a little probing about his love life—or lack of it—and he’d throw out a tidbit every once in a while about his likes or dislikes. He’d made an appearance to sign autographs at some black-tie fundraising dinner put on by the Seattle Humane Society last summer—he didn’t mind people knowing he liked dogs. He met a Labrador retriever breeder at the event who helped him adopt Butter a couple of months ago. His grandma was still getting used to the pup, but his sisters adored the cuddly yellow chewing machine. Hopefully, the obedience instructor Ashley and Courtney were taking him to was weaning Butter from his favorite snack: shoes.

  He’d also like to believe Cameron would not use the things he’d told her last night against him.

  Mostly, he wanted his family to have the freedom of relative anonymity. His family shouldn’t have to deal with fame and its downside, even though he did. He still remembered one of Whitney’s teachers freaking out when he walked in to one of her parent-teacher conferences a few years back. His grandma wasn’t feeling well that day, and the teacher sent home notes requesting another “conference”—otherwise known as a date, he discovered—throughout the rest of the school year.

  It might be interesting to ask Cameron how she dealt with people who approached her in public and printed stuff about her he couldn’t imagine she was happy about. Journalists were not supposed to be the story, but he’d read a lot about her over the years. It would be fascinating to find out how much of it was true.

  “Probably as much as the crap they write about me,” he muttered to himself. He shoved himself off his bed and padded into the bathroom. It was time to get this day started.

  Half an hour later, he’d pulled on Under Armour from head to toe, and he was banging on Derrick’s door with a closed fist.

  “Hey, cupcake, get your ass out of bed. Rise and shine,” he called out.

  He heard the rumble of a just-awakened male voice. “Fuck off and die, Anderson.”

  “Not today. Get out here before I call your ex and tell her you’re reconsidering.”

  He heard the thump of a very large man’s feet hitting the floor. “I’m kicking your ass,” Derrick shouted back. “I’ll be out there in ten minutes.”

  “Oooh. I’m scared.”

  He spotted Drew out of the corner of his eye. “Just because you couldn’t sleep doesn’t mean the rest of us have to be up at the asscrack of dawn,” Drew said.

  “Does dawn have an asscrack?”

  “It did today. My next-door-neighbor was taking a shower at 5:30. I’m going to have to talk with her about that.” Drew shook his head. “Major party foul.”

  The door at the end of the hall opened, and both men turned to see Cameron let herself out of her room. She looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of a magazine. She wore jeans, a jacket, some kind of silky-looking red top, and flats. She had a tote bag, too. In other words, she thought she was going to practice.

  “Ms. Ondine,” Drew said. “Where are you off to this morning?” He held out one arm.

  She gave Drew a sweet smile as she slipped her fingers through his elbow. Zach wanted to punch him. She didn’t even glance at Zach, and he wondered what the hell was going on now. She’d liked him just fine last night. He wanted some attention, too.

  “I have to do some work before I tape my show later,” she said. “I’m wondering if I could ask you for a pretty big favor.”

  “Anything,” Drew assured her.

  Zach was now counting to ten in his head.

  “I’d like to interview you for my show. Do you have a little time after practice today?”

  “I have all the time you need,” Drew said. “Let’s grab some breakfast and talk about it.” Drew tugged her away from Zach, still talking.

  “Just a second,” she said to Drew, and she turned to smile at Zach. “Good morning. Would you like to join us?”

  CAMERON SAW THE poleaxed look on Zach’s face as she walked away from him. He didn’t like the fact she was talking to any of his teammates, and she wondered if he had an even bigger problem with the fact that she’d made a beeline for Drew. Drew was one of the better linebackers in the league, but he was also a big female fan favorite. With his high cheekbones, square jaw, piercing blue eyes, and long blond hair, he had that whole “ladies love outlaws” thing going. He looked like a modern-day Viking. If all that wasn’t enough, he was single. “Very single,” he’d said in more than one interview.

  They were currently sitting at a table in the team’s cafeteria. She knew the players had been told when she first got there they needed a team babysitter to talk with her, but whoever it was that had Cameron Patrol this morning evidently had other things to do right now. The Sharks’ chef fed over three hundred people a day during training camp—players, team employees, the media covering training camp, and whoever else wandered in looking for something to eat. The sheer volume of breakfast selections was a bit overwhelming. The other Sharks in the room were covertly staring at their table in the corner between shoveling their food.

  Cameron had some oatmeal garnished with fresh fruit and a latte. Drew piled his plate high with complex carbohydrates and protein. And a peanut butter cookie.

  She gestured to Drew’s cookie. “Do you often eat cookies for breakfast?”

  “Hell, yes. The chef makes them for us. They’re vegan and protein-packed. Want one?”

  If his rippling muscles, glowing skin, and thick, luxuriant hair was any indicator, maybe she should start eating cookies for breakfast, too. “Sure,” she said.

  He shoved his chair back, strode into the kitchen, and returned moments later with a cookie wrapped in a paper napkin. “You’ll be hooked on them, too.” He sat back down at the table and took a large bite of his scrambled egg whites with vegetables. “Everyone wants something different for breakfast around here, and the chef does a good job of offering variety. The best part of training camp for the vets is either heckling the rookies or getting something you like to eat at least three times a day.”

  She nibbled at the cookie. He was right: It was delicious.

  “You seem like you enjoy being interviewed,” she said.

  “It’s not too bad. I don’t like being misquoted.”

  “I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen,” she said. “Would you like to do a little ‘welcome to training camp’ feature for me? If you could talk about what you do at training camp, maybe my cameraman can follow you around and get some footage. I think it would be a great addition to NFL Confidential. Plus, the fans would think it was fun.”

  Drew’s smile turned a touch calculating. He put down his fork for a moment. “So, Ms. Ondine, out with it. I’m all about being cooperative with you and your network, but you must want something in return. Am I right?”

  She nodded a little and tried to look penitent. “Okay, you’ve got me. Would you like to be an unnamed, occasional ‘source’?”

  He took a swig of orange juice. “One condition. Actually, two.”

  “What are they?”

  “If I tell you no, you have to accept that. In other words, if I know something that would put me in some hot water with my teammates, my first loyalty is to them.” His eyes bored into hers, cornflower blue and intent. He didn’t look away or avoid her gaze. “My second condition: Don’t wake me up at 5:30 AM with your shower running.”

  “I’m guessing I messed up this morning.”

  He pointed his fork at her. “If I didn’t have a little time this afternoon already scheduled for a nap, Cameron, I’d be pretty pissed at you.” She thought he was mad, but his smile was playful.

  “Got it. I will stop with the crack of dawn shower taking. What time do you guys get up, anyway?”

  “It depends on when practice
is, or whether there’s something special going on, like picture day or a preseason game. Derrick gets up at the last minute every day. He’s going to kill Anderson for waking his ass up.”

  Zach sauntered into the cafeteria with an enraged-looking Derrick on his heels. Drew watched them vanish around the corner into the kitchen area. “This ought to be fun,” he said. “Hopefully, we won’t have to clean up any blood. When did you want to start the filming?”

  “After practice. Maybe you could talk a little about your daily schedule and how you all feel when fans come to watch your practices.”

  “May I invite special guests?”

  “Guests?”

  “My teammates.” He took another bite of cookie. “I’ll make sure you’ll get some good footage.”

  She was a little concerned about what he might think “good footage” was, but Logan would be there. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be nude footage.

  “That would be great, Drew.” She tried to appear casual as she geared up to ask the big one. “So, what was the meeting about yesterday?”

  “Which one?”

  “Your teammates and the new coach.”

  His mouth quirked into a grin. “You’re going for the gusto, aren’t you, Cam? May I call you Cam?”

  She wasn’t especially enamored of the nickname, but every time one of these guys gave her a nickname, it meant they accepted her. She’d work on their trust, but right now, she’d take his acceptance.

  He leaned forward in his chair, and lowered his voice. “Here’s the deal. The new coach wanted to make sure we were on the same page going forward. There was a lot of stuff said, but mostly the Sharks are letting the past be the past and moving on. We want to win. We think Coach Stewart can get us there.” He reached over, broke her cookie in half, and jammed the other half into his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and said, “There isn’t a guy on this team that’s busted up about the fact that the former head coach probably won’t be back. Again: You never heard this from me. We never even discussed it.”