The Long Game (Long Game, #1)(97)

I started frowning, but then my gaze was glued to him, his ass, his shoulders, all of him, as he walked around the car with confident long strides. This was possibly worse than being sixteen.

Cameron pulled open the door and leaned inside. “The stars in the sky are not going anywhere,” he said, his voice nothing but a low rumble. “You don’t babble, ever. You shared something with me after I asked.” His head dipped, his expression turning severe. “I’m the furthest thing from sexually frustrated,” he added, his eyes sweeping down my neck, and all the way to my chest before returning to my mouth. “If anything, I’m starved.” He cleared his throat. “And I’m curious and a little excited to meet your mother.”

“Of course you are,” I murmured. “Everyone is curious, and a little excited, where Maricela Reyes is concerned.”

“Let it go,” he said, before kissing me hard and fast on the lips. “Whatever is making you worried, make it disappear. There’s no use for it now.” He touched his forehead with mine for an instant. Just a touch. “I’m here.”

My throat contracted as I looked up at him. But that part of me that had been always willing to fight him, to contradict him, was down for the night, and probably would be from now on, seeing as I was incapable of resisting Cameron Caldani anymore. The truth was that I loved when he did that, when he stated things so certainly. It made me feel lighter, less burdened. It made me want to release the control to him, just so he’d prove to me that I could.

I sighed, then I told him, “Lead the way.”

He snatched my hand in his and pulled me up and out of the car. He didn’t let go. Not even when he pushed the door open for me and waited for me to go in first, and not when I scanned the shockingly crowded café and found my mother surrounded by a group of laughing locals.

“Mom?” I asked, and whatever Cameron had heard in my voice made him squeeze my hand.

My mother’s head turned, her whole face brightening when she saw me. “Adalyn, mi amor.” She scrambled out of the chair she’d been elegantly sprawled on. “Excuse me,” she told the people around her as she moved toward us. “My daughter is here!”

Maricela Reyes launched herself at me with an “Ay, hija.” And when her voice wavered, my chest did, too. Ugh. This was what I’d been trying to avoid all along. “I was so worried about you.” She released me from the hug but planted her hands on my shoulders. Her eyes narrowed. “Have you been sick? Your cheeks are red, and your lips look swollen.”

My hand flew to my mouth. Or it would have, if it hadn’t been held by Cameron.

Maricela tsked, looking me up and down. “Your father wouldn’t tell me where you are, can you believe that?” A shake of her head. “Always with his little secrets, but that’s not new. But to do this to my own daughter, as if you were one of his chess pieces. Ay, no.” She looked back over her shoulder. “Josie, sweetheart? Can you bring some water for my daughter? She looks about to faint.” Her gaze shifted to my right. Her eyes narrowed. “Maybe two glasses instead of one?”

“I’m—” Cameron started, making me notice I hadn’t introduced him.

“Cam,” my mother finished for him. “Coach Cam. I’ve heard about you. Just now. You took my daughter into the woods. At night.”

Cameron didn’t wince. Instead, I felt his thumb swiping over the back of my hand. “That’s the one, yes.”

“Well, Cam,” my mother said, arching her brows. “I hope you were up to no good. Because my daughter needs a little—”

“Mami,” I warned.

Maricela Reyes rolled her eyes just as Josie popped over her shoulder with the two glasses of water. “Thank you, Josie. You were right, I like them together. They’re even wearing matching outfits and I’ve never seen my daughter in mountain boots, let me tell you that much.”

Cameron’s head came down, and he whispered, “I like her.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered.

Cameron was obviously happy about her praise for the stupid boots but also, who wouldn’t like beautiful and fun Maricela Reyes?

“What are you two whispering about?” my mother said, holding the two glasses and shoving them into our chests. “Drink,” she ordered. “Then, you can tell me what your intentions are with my Adalyn.”

I spat out the water. “Mom.”

“Siempre mom this, mother that.” She waved her hand in front of her. “Soy tu madre, I say it like it is. I didn’t go through a ten-hour birth to bat the bush around.”

“Beat around the bush,” I corrected her.

“I like batting better,” she answered, nonchalantly. “It comes from hunting times, you know. I read it in a magazine,” she explained, looking over at Josie like she was her new best friend. She pulled up her arms. “They used to hit at bushes and trees, and you know what they used? Sticks. Now what’s just like a stick to hit on things? A bat. No offense, but some of these things you say don’t make sense.”

Josie clicked her tongue. “Oh my God, she might be right.”

“I…” I released a deep breath, readying myself to ask her what in the world was she doing in Green Oak, but a couple I recognized as parents of one of the kids on the team came into the café, a very enthusiastic nine-year-old dashing right behind.