“I’m doing great,” Cam said quickly. He was fine in every way that mattered—he’d had every fortune and a big dose of luck on top of his talent. The fact that he was expected to be a role model when he couldn’t even play football anymore was a little dicier. And made him feel like a bit of a fraud. “Let me think on it. And I meant what I said about funding the uniforms.”
As they walked down the bleachers, the boys gathered around, many of them stealing glances at him, some staring outright.
“Hey, Cam,” one said. “Will you autograph our jerseys?”
He stood and walked down the remaining concrete steps, being careful not to catch his bad knee, to the front of the stands so he could face the team. Smiling at the boy who spoke, he said, “Sure, but for the next few minutes, I want you to think of me not as someone famous but as someone just like you—from our town, born and raised here.
“My story is all about dreaming big and working hard to achieve your dreams. And working hard on the field teaches you how to work hard in life. So today, I’m going to start by talking about training techniques. Then we’re all going to jog a few laps and hit the gym.”
Suddenly it seemed no one was paying any attention. Great. He’d had a platform to make a difference and he’d blown it by being preachy and long-winded. Cam turned to see what everyone was looking at. Two people were crossing the field with a handful of dogs, Alaskan mush team style, the animals straining at their leashes.
Hadley.
Drew reached into the first row of seats and pulled out a big wire basket of tennis balls. He turned to Cam. “I might’ve forgotten to mention that Hadley’s bringing a few rescue dogs that need some exercise.”
Cam raised a brow, as in, you’ve got to be kidding me.
“I thought having the guys play with the dogs would be good for physical conditioning. And fun too.” He rushed to add, “Of course, you can do whatever you want with them afterward.”
Cam crossed his arms and stared hard at his friend, who for some reason seemed to think that was hilarious. “Hey, it’s for the team,” Drew said. “Plus, it’s good for them to learn service.”
“Service?”
“Yeah. Dog walking. Good for the community.” Drew punched him in the arm, leaving Cam to stand there, grappling with his suddenly rampant emotions. Bowie and Jagger led Hadley’s pack, along with three dogs he’d never seen before. A motley crew, bolting down the field, towing Hadley behind them. Mayellen walked behind Hadley with another bunch of dogs.
The boys clamored out of the stands and rushed the field, his inspirational talk all but forgotten. Soon everyone was laughing and chasing dogs around.
Hadley had begun talking to Drew and a few of the team members, only to catch Cam’s gaze and look quickly away, back to laughing and talking with the boys. But Jagger noticed him and broke away, bolting toward him.
Cam leaned down and scratched behind the dog’s ears. “Hey, buddy, how’d you get a pile of friends, huh?” The dog leaped up and licked his face, wiggling his skinny butt.
Cam straightened to find Hadley directly in front of him. Oh no, was his first thought as a barrage of feelings hit him like a Mack truck. That four a.m. kiss had stirred everything up, taken away his peace of mind. What had he been thinking? Because he couldn’t stop thinking about her. How she’d felt tangled up with him on that wet floor. How her lips had felt on his.
She was wearing jean shorts and a T-shirt that read WALK A DOG, MAKE A FRIEND. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she looked not much older than the kids on the football team. Several of the boys were openly checking her out, making Cam instinctively step sideways to block their line of vision.
It struck him that being with her now felt just like before, all those years ago. The same excitement. The same thrill. The same ease. It was as if they’d been together yesterday, not twelve years ago.
Cam grabbed a ball from the bucket. Jagger immediately perked up, jumping and anticipating Cam’s throw. Cam gave it a good toss, and the dog bolted after it, his long legs flying.
“Maybe he thinks he’s a greyhound,” Hadley said.
“Well, a dog can dream,” Cam said, laughing a little nervously. “So, how’s the roof?” She seemed nervous, too, not looking directly at him, keeping her focus on the dog.
She shrugged. “We’re getting estimates to fix it. I think my grandma’s insurance will cover it, though.”
He nodded and lifted a brow at the dogs. He saw some new recruits among the pack. “More?”
She shrugged. “Word of mouth, I guess. Anita Morales brought in a stray that followed her home while she was walking her own dog. Some kids found that little pit bull mix hiding under a woodpile, and that cute little black one wasn’t getting along with their family’s cat.” She flicked her gaze up at him. “Are you avoiding me?”
A direct, unexpected shot. That’s how she was, no BS’ing. Plus, she still saw through him clearer than a plate-glass window. “Of course not.”
Her eye roll showed him that she wasn’t buying that. “Oh my gosh, you are avoiding me.”
He crossed his arms, hoping to appear calm and case-closed. “I’m not avoiding you.”
“It’s been two days since…that kiss. And you’ve gone radio silent. And you’re acting funny now.”
“I’m talking to the boys about hard work and persistence. And overseeing their workout. If we can ever get them into the gym.”
“Cardio’s important too.” She smiled, gesturing to the boys running around with the dogs. Suddenly their gazes locked and held in a way he absolutely did not want. His pulse kicked up and that same undeniable feeling hit him like always, regardless of how he tried to steel himself against it.
“Seriously,” she said after a bit, “that’s terrific you’re sharing your expertise. And being an inspiration.”
“Right.” His answer came out less than enthused. Jagger dropped the ball at his feet and Cam picked it up and tossed it far out into the field. The dog loped after it, full speed ahead. For such an odd-looking dog, he ran like a gazelle.
“So, what’s the worry?” she asked.
He shouldn’t have looked at her again. Because one look at her concerned expression and he was spilling the thoughts heavy on his mind. “Truth is, I feel a little like an imposter. Someone who can’t practice what I preach.” He immediately winced. He wasn’t one to talk about weaknesses—ever. Fake it till you make it was basically the mantra he’d lived by his entire life.
“It’s not like that,” she said, her eyes filling with compassion. Or pity. He wasn’t sure which, but he hated both. “You’re the most famous tight end in the country.”
“Was the most famous tight end.”
She frowned in protest. “You have tons of experience and expertise. Plus, you’re inspiring to anybody who dreams of getting out and making something of him- or herself.”
“I appreciate the pep talk but I’m the one who’s supposed to be giving it.” The boys were horsing around, the dogs getting all riled up and loving it. He wished he were out there, too, carefree and young, his whole future ahead of him.