The Long Game (Long Game, #1)(39)

Frigid, boring, and forgettable. Dodged a bullet.

“Take a deep breath, darling,” Cameron said, making me realize I was gasping for air, and it had nothing to do with the workout. “Adalyn,” his voice came again, more firmly. “Focus on your breathing.” His body was still wrapped around me, his warmth somehow feeling like too much. But not enough. What was wrong with me? “In and out, darling.” What had to be his palm fell on my collarbone, firm, heavy, providing a physical tie I could focus on. “That’s it, just like that.”

My rib cage expanded at his words, the air coming in and out more easily.

“Good job,” he murmured, my breathing gradually returning to normal. My mind slowly slipped back into place. “Well done.”

When I started feeling more like myself, I glanced around, searching the group and expecting to find every head turned. Even the goats. But no one was looking. Everyone was focused on their own practice, and Brandy was now resting on my mat. Close to our feet. Cameron’s feet.

“The goat,” I rushed out, feeling the need to issue the warning. He didn’t like them.

Cameron’s body tensed behind mine, just like it had every time one of the furry animals had come close to him. His fingers spread, grazing the base of my neck. And when he spoke, I could hear the strain in his voice. “It’s just a goat.”

I slipped out of his hold, pretending I was frustrated at his blatant denial. I wasn’t. What I was was embarrassed. By Cameron, of all people, witnessing such a moment of weakness on my side. By him having to remind me how to breathe because I’d been too lost in my head over—nothing.

“You’re scared of them,” I told him, whirling around to face him. The green of his eyes was dark, his features hard, and his stance tense. I stepped back. “You’re scared of the goats.”

This wasn’t important. I didn’t even care whether he had some strange animal phobia. A part of me I was trying really hard to ignore even softened at the knowledge. I was deflecting, though.

And Cameron seemed to see right through me. “We’re all afraid of something in this life, darling,” he said. “The little freak-out you’ve just had is evidence of that.” A muscle on his jaw ticked. “It’s only a matter of time until I find out.”

Find out about what? I wanted to ask.

But Cameron Caldani was leaving my mat and walking back to his.

Storming off in a way and leaving me with too much to think about.

One more time.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN



Cameron


Coaching the Green Warriors wasn’t going to be the walk in the park it had been until now.

It had nothing to do with the girls. Practice had been what you would expect from a group of kids under the age of ten: chaos with the occasional moment of pure and sheer desperation and a pinch of madness.

The problem was the new general manager, as she loved to call herself.

I watched the last two girls walk off in the direction of their parents—and Diane, who had once again kept watch from her car all during practice—and whirled on my heels, immediately spotting the woman camping out on the bleachers. I’d assumed last Thursday had been a one-time occurrence. But there she was again.

With a resigned shake of my head, I started in her direction and watched Adalyn while I crossed the shoddy grass with long and quick strides. Her laptop was balanced on her knees, and she was leaning slightly forward, engrossed by whatever was on the screen. My eyes followed the line of her shoulders and arms, taking in the pressed button-down blouse. She’d taken off the blazer at some point between me giving up on teaching the girls the simplest way to dribble the ball and getting Juniper—our keeper—to learn how to dive for the ball so she wouldn’t hurt herself. I’d managed neither.

My gaze tipped down as I got closer, irritation rising at the sight of those bloody heels again. It boggled my mind that she consistently moved in those things in a town where, besides Main Street, most roads weren’t even paved. She’d even come to that goat yoga happy hour nonsense in them. In a heartbeat, I was thrusted back to Sunday. To Adalyn, in those leggings. The tank top. To the warmth of her body beneath my fingertips. To how—

Something rippled in my gut at the unfinished thought, and when I finally reached her I couldn’t stop the words from taking shape in the way they did. “Why are you here?”

Here. In Green Oak. My head.

She seemed more surprised by my being there than by my question when that little frown formed. “Where else should I be? The facilities don’t have an office where I can set up. So the bleachers seemed like the best place.” Her fingers slid across the mouse pad a few times. “My hotspot isn’t working today, do you get good reception here?” She looked around, as if searching for something. “Maybe tomorrow I can try the other side of the field.”

“So you really mean to sit here through every single practice?”

“Of course,” she confirmed. As if that was the obvious thing to do. And before I could say how I felt about it, she was switching topics. “How do you feel practice went today? I was thinking we should have a weekly meeting to evaluate how things progress. I’ll print a few copies of the roster so we can make notes on every player to develop their strengths and assess their weaknesses.” She pulled a blue binder out of her bag. “Here, take this home, in case you want to get ahead. Josie gave me some printouts on my first day. I went ahead and filed them. What do you think of Wednesdays? There’s practice on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, so middle of the week makes the most sense.”