She hadn’t wanted to leave her car at the ranch, so he’d followed her into Bronco Valley and found a parking space a few rows away in the lot outside of the restaurant that was actually housed in an old barn. But now that they were so close to their next destination, there was no sense in taking both cars.
“Didn’t there used to be a library here?” he asked as they drove by a single-story building that looked to be abandoned. “I remember having to do a report in middle school on the founders of Bronco, and my dad’s secretary brought me over here to do research.”
“I practically lived at that library when I was a kid.” When Camilla smiled, it was contagious. “We would walk there after school and do our homework and read until my mom got off work. But then the city council voted to move all the government buildings—except the wastewater treatment plant, obviously—closer to Bronco Heights, where all the new developments were going in. They thought it made the town look more inviting. A group of us kids in the neighborhood protested, but you know the golden rule.”
“What’s the golden rule?” Jordan asked as he made a right turn.
“The guys with the gold make the rules.” She slid her sunglasses onto her face, but not before he caught a glimpse of the defeat in her eyes. “After they moved all the books, a group of teens decided to throw a party in the abandoned building. The bonfire got out of control and did quite a bit of internal damage. It looks fine on the outside so nobody is complaining about it being an eyesore. The city council doesn’t want to spend the money to make any repairs to the inside, not that anyone is offering to buy it since everyone seems to be building their businesses in the Heights now. So it’s been sitting vacant for a while.”
“How do I not know about this fire?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “And before you say that I’m out of touch with our community, I’ll have you know that I do pay attention to the news, and I think something like that would’ve at least made the papers.”
“My brother Felix was one of the kids. He was still in high school at the time. He’s thirty now, so that means you were probably away at college when it happened.”
“Still. As a local businessman, I go to city council meetings a few times a year and never saw...” His surprise gave way to an underlying sense of shame as he realized what should’ve been obvious before now. “Hell. I can’t believe I haven’t noticed the town having a new library over in that complex.”
They were at a four-way stop, and Camilla lifted up her sunglasses as she faced him. “Jordan, when was the last time you actually went to the library?”
The truck behind them honked, so Jordan was forced to return his eyes to the road. He had no idea if she was teasing him or not. “I actually went to library on my college campus once or twice to study.”
“Yeah, well, the people in the Valley used this library more than once or twice. Some of them actually depended on it for after-school programs and the free tutoring and even internet access. Now if they want to go to the library, they have to find a way to get to the Heights. The people with the most need for it now have less access to it.”
Wow. His shoulders sagged and his throat felt thick and heavy. While he’d recently appreciated seeing the world through Camilla’s eyes, up until now, he’d focused on the simple pleasures he took for granted. He hadn’t wanted to give much thought to the necessities in life that he’d also taken for granted.
He pointed to one of the town’s original buildings with weathered wood siding painted a shocking shade of bubble gum pink. “At least Cubby’s is still here. We used to go there for malts and triple-decker sundaes after football games on Fridays nights.”
“So did we!” Camilla smiled again, and Jordan’s world suddenly righted itself. “It’s still a madhouse on Friday nights. Especially when the high school has a home game. I think the Cubbison family got it approved as a historical monument, so the town has to keep it now.”
They passed the market where the checker kept the extra mangos behind the register, then her mom’s salon, which was one of the more modern-looking buildings in this neighborhood. He ran his hand through his hair. “Your mom didn’t have time for me last week, so I had to schedule an appointment for Wednesday.”
“I know. She told me all about it, probably in the hopes I’ll come help her at the shampoo bowl.”
“You’re a hairdresser, too?” Jordan asked, though at this point he wouldn’t be shocked. He’d already found out that she was an MBA student, a restaurant entrepreneur, an amazing dancer and a rodeo queen.
“No. But when she was first starting out, she used to pay me and my brothers five bucks on Saturdays to ride our bikes over to the salon after we finished our chores so that we could help her sweep up hair and fold towels. She’s built her business up a lot since then and has several stylists working for her now. But she still keeps our bikes in the garage and often reminds us that if we ever need to make a few extra dollars, we can pedal on over.”
“It must’ve been nice to be able to ride everywhere.” He pulled into the parking lot at the rec center. “Growing up, we always felt like we were stuck out on the ranch.”
“Jordan, I was just on your ranch. I saw all the trails and the heated swimming pool. If the stable full of horses wasn’t enough to get you from place to place, you also have ATVs.” Camilla put her hand to her chest in a dramatic fashion. “Please tell me what a hardship it was to be stuck out there as a kid.”
“I’m not saying it wasn’t nice,” Jordan corrected himself. After that conversation about the library, he knew he didn’t have room for complaints. “I’m just saying we didn’t have any neighbors nearby. We were kinda stuck out there unless we were at school. We couldn’t just hop on a bike and go to our friends’ houses. Or walk down to Cubby’s to get a frozen cherry slush on a hot day. Even going to see one of my cousins was a hike. You haven’t met Brandon yet, but trust me, there’s only so much fun you can have on the ranch when you have to drag your little brother around with you everywhere.”
Camilla laughed. “Well, I was the younger sibling getting dragged. Both my parents worked, so one of my brothers usually got stuck with me and Sofia. Instead of drawing straws, they’d shoot baskets. Felix usually lost.”
“That’s because Felix needs to lay off those three-pointers.”
“Not when he has you rebounding them.” She gave him a light kiss before getting out of the car.
The youth league game was already underway when they walked inside the stuffy gymnasium and headed toward the bleachers. Jordan didn’t need to look for Mac on the opposite side of the hardwood court. Everyone could hear her since she was yelling way louder than anyone was cheering.
“Oh, no,” Camilla said when they found some open seats.
“What’s wrong?”
She pointed at her dad in the black-and-white-striped referee jersey using one of those wheeled knee walkers like a kid on a Razor scooter, zooming up and down the court as he weaved his way through the young players. “He promised my mom he wouldn’t ref any more games until his doctor cleared him.”
Mr. Sanchez stopped long enough to blow his whistle at Mac. “That’s a warning, Coach. Watch the language from the sidelines. These are kids playing, not pros.”
He zipped away on his knee scooter and Mac made a gesture at his back, which drew several gasps from the parents in the stands. Jordan scrubbed his hand over the lower half of his face to keep from laughing.
Camilla nodded toward the tall, thin woman on the green team’s bench. The one with the blond ponytail, sporty yoga pants and sweatshirt printed with the words Team Work Makes the Dream Work. “Is that your assistant?”
Jordan closed his eyes and shook his head. “Nope.”
“But I thought you said your assistant was coaching her first—Oh.” Camilla giggled when her father blew his whistle again and Mac stomped onto the court arguing
that her player didn’t double dribble.
“Normally, she coaches baseball and softball.” Jordan moved his hand up so that he could rub the left side of his temple where a tic was suddenly developing. “But her friend works for the parks department and asked her to sub today. Five bucks says they don’t ask her back.”
Surprisingly, Mac didn’t get kicked out before halftime. After sending her players to get their water bottles, the older woman jogged over to the bleachers. “Whatcha doing here, Sport? You usually only come to my baseball games.”
He tugged on his ear. “That’s because the sound of you yelling at the umpires doesn’t echo as much when you’re on a grassy field instead of an enclosed gymnasium.”
His assistant snorted. “Well, that ref is blind as a bat.”
“Mac, allow me to introduce Camilla Sanchez, the blind bat’s daughter.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Mac stuck out her hand. “No offense about your old man.”
“None taken.” Camilla smiled as they shook hands. “Just between us, he actually enjoys it when coaches challenge him. Keeps him on his toes. Or at least half of his toes today.”
“I like this one,” Mac told Jordan. “She the one you had me put out my scouting report on?”
“Scouting report?” Camilla arched a brow. Jordan was now rubbing his entire forehead.
“Yep.” Mac shoved an escaped wiry gray curl back under her ball cap. “After that fancy party, my boy here was all kinds of fired up wanting to find this mystery woman he met.”
Camilla tilted her head as she studied him. “Is that so?”
“I think scouting report might be a bit of an overstatement.” He lifted one shoulder, then dropped it. “I was just looking for a name and number.”
Mac made a snorting sound, then leaned toward Camilla and stage-whispered, “Now I see why you have him swinging for the fences.” She chuckled, then returned to her regular voice. “Gotta get back to my team and give them my words of wisdom for the second half. I’ll catch you two after the game.”
Camilla wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Now I can’t wait to hear more.”
“You know those relatives who like to bring out the baby book and say all sorts of stuff to embarrass you?” Jordan rolled his shoulders backward. “That’s Mac.”
Camilla glanced back and forth between him and his assistant on the opposite side of the court. “I didn’t know that you’re related.”
“She’s the closest thing I’ve got to a grandmother,” he offered. “I guess you could say that since my mom left when I was younger, she really is the closest thing I have to a mom, too.”
“How old were you when your parents divorced?” Camilla asked.
“Seven.”
“Do you ever see her?”
“No. There was a pre-nup and she knew she wasn’t going to get much in alimony, so she went the full custody route instead.”
Camilla made a tsking sound. “You make it sound like the only reason she wanted custody was for the child support payments.”
He crossed his arms in front of his chest and managed a shrug. But his jaw stayed tight.
“Jordan?” Camilla placed her hand between his shoulder blades. “Surely you don’t think that your own mother didn’t want you.”
“It was the one time she stood up to my dad. Or rather her hired attorney stood up to him. She won custody and we lived with her for a whole month in a house my father bought. Turns out Cornelius only let her think she won because he knew what would eventually happen. He was just biding his time until he could buy her off. One weekend, she dropped us off at the ranch for a visit and didn’t come back. My dad kept sending the child support checks, though, and she kept cashing them.”
“I’m so sorry.” Her hand made circles along his upper back. “I didn’t think... I didn’t know.”
“It’s okay.” He swallowed, his throat thick with emotion. “There may be a lot of things I don’t like about my father, but taking care of his children has always been his number one priority, no matter the cost.”
Several minutes passed and neither one of them said a word. Which was a relief because Margaret Taylor was the last person he wanted to talk about. Camilla continued a rhythmic massaging motion until his muscles finally loosened.
“So tell me about this scouting report.” She slid her hand from his back to loop through his arm and leaned into his side. “You really wanted to find me that badly, huh?”
“Mac has a big mouth. Especially for someone who wasn’t that much help in my search.”
He felt her vibrate with laughter, and Jordan realized there was no place else he would’ve rather been than sitting on a wooden bench inside a stuffy, overheated gymnasium watching a bunch of eight-year-olds he didn’t know play a very unimpressive game of basketball.
When he was with Camilla, though, everything was an experience.
* * *
Camilla knew her dad had to have seen them in the stands since the gymnasium wasn’t even a third of the way filled. But even after the final buzzer, he kept his back to the bleachers, probably to keep from making eye contact with her.
So she and Jordan waited for him by the exit.
“Does Mom know you’re here?” she asked when her father realized he wasn’t going to be able to roll by them on his knee scooter. “You didn’t drive yourself, did you?”
“No, Dylan brought me and loaned me his referee jersey since your mother hid both of mine.” Her dad turned to Jordan and shook his hand before adding, “And now you’re both accomplices because you stayed and watched without stopping me. Let me change out of this shirt and then you guys can give me a ride back to the house.”
“Hey, I’m staying out of it.” Jordan put up both of his hands. “I’ve got an appointment with Mrs. Sanchez on Wednesday and I’m not about to lie to the woman who has the power to give me a bowl-shaped haircut.”
“Don’t worry. Mom’s clients are a walking advertisement for her shop. She wouldn’t want Jordan—” Camilla caught herself before saying his last name in front of her dad. “She wouldn’t want you looking like you got a bad haircut.”
Jordan tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow, as though he knew she was avoiding telling her father who he really was.
“Don’t look now.” Her dad maneuvered himself closer between Camilla and Jordan, as though he was pulling them into a huddle. “That crazy coach is heading this way.”
“Dad, that crazy coach is Jordan’s...friend.” Camilla wasn’t quite sure how to explain who Mac was. She didn’t want to say “employee” or even “coworker” because clearly the woman was special to him. But she also didn’t want to bring up the earlier conversation about Jordan’s mother.
“Good game, Ref,” Mac said when she approached the group.
“That’s not what you said in the third quarter,” her father challenged, but grudgingly shook the older woman’s hand.
“You mean after you blew that whistle in my face and said I needed to stick to baseball and leave basketball to the real athletes?”
“Dad,” Camilla scolded her father. “Sorry, Mac. My family is a little obsessed with their favorite sport.”
“Nothing wrong with having a little passion for something.” Jordan’s assistant nudged him. “Right, sport?”
“Why do I get the feeling that you’re suggesting I don’t get passionate, Mac?” Jordan asked, almost daring the woman to announce the answer to everyone.
And she didn’t disappoint.
“Well, you used to love football. But after college, the only thing you seem to be passionate about is not getting passionate about anything.” Mac turned to Camilla and gave her a bold wink. “At least until now.”
Camilla felt the heat rising from the depths of her chest to the roots of her hair. Jordan’s own cheeks were a charming shade of pink, but his smile
directed at Camilla seemed to say, See. I told you that you were different. It was almost as though he’d known exactly what Mac would say and purposely set up the question to prove his point.
“Oh, hell,” her dad said, clearly oblivious to Camilla and Jordan making googly eyes at each other right there under the digital scoreboard. Instead, he was using his scooter to kneel down lower between them. “Speaking of passionate, here comes your mother. How did she find out I was here?”
“Aaron Sanchez,” Denise called as she strode into the gymnasium. “Stop hiding behind our daughter and face me like a real man.”
Mac made a snickering sound, but Jordan’s eyes grew wide. Camilla thought about their earlier conversation about Jessica’s interaction with Cornelius and the most recent revelation about his own mother so easily giving him up. She wondered when Jordan had last seen a wife stand up to her husband. Again she slipped her arm through his and whispered, “Don’t worry.”
“Hermosa!” Dad used the term of endearment that always got him off the hook with his wife. “Your hair looks beautiful. Is that a new color?”
Mom touched her freshly straightened mahogany bangs briefly—she was always experimenting with different styles and colors and appreciated it when people noticed—then quickly pointed an accusing finger at her husband. “Don’t you hermosa me, Aaron. The doctor said no physical activity for six weeks. Do you want to make your foot worse?”
Dad took a dramatic breath, his mouth practically pouting beneath his beard. “But you don’t know what it’s like to be stuck on the couch while everyone else gets to run around the court.”
“Oh, if you want to get off the couch, I’ll give you something to do. You can start by cleaning out that garage like you promised. Then you can paint that back bedroom...” Mom’s voice trailed off with a list of household chores as Dad rolled behind her toward the exit.
The muscles in Jordan’s arm relaxed and he whispered under his breath, “Well, at least she didn’t get mad at us.”
His Christmas Cinderella Page 9