“In other words, you did post videos of me with the kids.”
How did he feel about that? “I did. You signed the waiver.” Had he even read what he signed? “You were just so good with the kids, I couldn’t help myself.” She spoke quickly, hoping to stave off his disappointment in her. “Like that one where the kid asked how old you are—if you were a million years old or 227 or 30.”
“Yeah, that one hit a little too close to home.” He laughed.
Even though she’d had permission to record and post anything she liked thanks to Ed’s waivers, the professional thing would have been to bring it up before she posted them. She was slightly chagrined. Oh well, too late. “Don’t worry. It’s all good. Even online where a certain amount of vitriolic dissonance is expected, people have reacted so well—they love you!” She let that settle briefly before moving on. “Then, I mentioned that I wanted to show you how fantastic Christmas in Texas is, and I got a lot of suggestions of must-see events.”
They stepped into the shopping square, an open-air mall draped in so many Christmas lights, they probably could have done without the streetlights decorated with wreaths and bows. Symmetrical three-story buildings lined the street-sized sidewalks, the bottom floor filled with boutiques and high-end shops, the upper floors filled with loft-style apartments. Alternating stands of red and white lights crossed overhead, and every tree was filled with white lights.
“It looks like a radioactive spider came through here,” Camden muttered.
Talia smiled, but she was too stressed about their conversation to laugh, though the image was amusing.
Down each of the alleys, food trucks belched out the smell of frying foods, and Christmas music played from overhead speakers, choreographed with the undulating lights up and down the main walkway.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low but comforting. “You’re a reporter, then.”
It wasn’t a question. “You’re not mad?” She hadn’t expected the overwhelming relief that washed over her.
“So many things ran through my mind as you spoke. First, that explains a lot. When my agent, Derrick, called me to tell me about the tree auction, he expressly told me to, quote, ‘Bring the elf with you.’ I was so confused about that. It wasn’t like we were seen together on the news or anything.”
Pride swelled through Talia. Someone had not only watched her videos; they’d connected with them. Sure, that was obvious by the number of views that even now continued to increase and the comments that people made, but to know his agent or team owner or someone was pleased brought relief she hadn’t realized she needed.
“I had another thought,” he said, “a proposal, actually, and feel free to turn me down. You’re already helping me so much. But this could be a win for both of us.” He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “The team—” He paused. “I ran into some bad press recently, and counterbalancing that with good exposure never hurts.”
“So my videos helped you.”
“I have to assume.” They walked past a booth where loudspeakers were set so loud, it didn’t do any good for anyone to do any speaking. He paused until they were past. “As long as it was good exposure, as you say.” He gave her a teasing glare.
“It was,” she reassured him. She was still waiting for the proposition part.
“So here’s my thought. We shoot some video while you and your viewers introduce me to Texas Christmases. You get content, and I get to look good.” He plucked at the front of his shirt. “I’m sure that won’t be hard.”
She swatted his bicep and ran into hard muscle.
“I mean, you get content, and I get to connect with my fans.” He grinned. “And yours.”
Fans. He was acknowledging she had fans, just like he did. The validation was gratifying, but at the same time, his overconfidence shot up all kinds of red flags.
Down another side street, bright lights flooded a lot that had been turned into a temporary skating rink. They walked toward it and leaned on the railing, watching the skaters as they talked.
“You need to know my channel is more news exposé than fluff. If I’m doing stories on you—especially if you’re using me to repair your image—I need to have the right to dig in and ask tough questions. I’m not going to give you an automatic pass.”
Camden shrugged and started walking again. “I’m good with that. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“I don’t know, Cam. Are you sure about that? Sometimes when you peel back the layers on an onion . . .”
“ . . . you find an apple?” he finished for her. He bumped his shoulder into hers. “You never know—you just might find something good too.” Tiny white flakes descended upon them, swirling with the wind currents. “Is that—?”
“Snow.” It was machine generated and would melt before it hit the ground, and they both knew it, but his reaction—the surprise and childlike wonder—was the main reason she’d brought him here. “That is true.” She bumped her shoulder back into his. “You never know.”
With the weight of her secret off her chest, Talia was free to enjoy the evening with Cam. She checked her watch. “Let’s go.” She grabbed his hand, warm despite the chill of the air around them. The unexpected feel of his skin traveled up her arm like an electric charge, glowing from within. She led him through the crowd, away from the intersecting streets. “It’s almost seven. They’re going to light the tree soon.”
He jogged with her back to the main street and toward the opposite end near a grandstand. A live band sang “I’ll Be Home for Christmas.” She cringed at the song, hoping it wouldn’t make him homesick. It could have been anything else. When they reached the back of the crowd around the big pecan tree—the only vegetation currently unlit—they stopped, Talia slightly out of breath.
Cam looked around, confusion evident on his face. “Where’s the Christmas tree?”
“Right there.” She nodded to the tree in shadow. Without leaves, it looked dead, but the trunk was large, with thick branches beautiful in the graceful curves that haloed it. In the summer, it offered a gorgeous canopy for shade.
“What?” He sounded disgusted. “No evergreen?”
She smirked. “Pecan. Texas tradition.”
A soccer ball came skipping toward them. Her mind had barely registered a name for the object by the time Cam dropped her hand, stepped forward, and popped the ball from his foot to his knees, where he juggled it until a teenaged boy caught up to them.
“Thanks for grabbing my ball, man.” The boy stood, patiently waiting for Cam to pass it over to him. “I was sure it was going to hit that stroller up there.” The young man slapped his forehead. “That would not have been good.”
Talia glanced down the trajectory the ball had been traveling and realized the kid was right. If Cam hadn’t stopped it, the consequences might not have been very merry.
“No problem.” Cam passed the ball off to the teen, who attempted to continue Cam’s juggle streak, but lost control of the ball after one too-hard kick.
Cam stepped forward and caught it with his chest. He dropped it to his feet, where he juggled it back to the teen, who flubbed it again.
The teen leaned over and picked up the ball, his eyes filled with awe. “That’s fye. How do you do it? Coach is always on us to juggle thirty touches without messing up, but I just can’t.” His shoulders slumped. “You saw me.”
“You can do this.” Cam motioned with his chin for the ball, and the young man tossed it to him. The three of them stepped back away from the crowd until they had a small open radius around them. “Don’t be afraid to forget everything you’ve already learned and start completely over,” Cam said. “First, when you’re learning, it’s okay to use your hands.” He dropped the ball and hit it on the top of one foot. “Get to where you are comfortable kicking it right back into your hands.”
He dropped it again and this time kicked it with each foot before catching it. “Then get to where you’re using both feet. The best thing about juggling is th
at it teaches you to use both feet equally. That will make you stronger on the field.” He caught the ball and tossed it to the teen. “It’s not easy. You won’t get it at first, but if you keep at it, I promise it’ll come.”
Though the whole interaction was less than a minute or two, it instantly dragged Talia back in time four months and several states to that awful day in Seattle. When she and her crew had arrived in the park, Camden and his group hadn’t started working yet. Instead, he’d been demonstrating this same technique to a couple of teenagers, though none had been as interested as this boy.
Just now, Talia felt she was in the middle of it again, and fear that Camden would remember zinged through her. Panic struck, but he appeared unfazed. If he placed her, he was too nice to bring it up.
The teen dribbled the ball like a basketball a couple of times and seemed to acknowledge his mom a few yards away with a chin nod before dropping the ball lightly to his foot.
Talia laid a hand on Camden’s forearm and squeezed slightly, allowing herself to feel the rush of heat accompanying it. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving them to their juggling lessons, Talia stepped over to where the woman was tucking her phone into her large bag.
“Hi.” Talia proffered her hand for a shake. “I’m Talia Thomas. I’m with Camden Sharpe over there. He’s the one showing your son how to juggle.”
The mom smiled, waiting to hear what Talia had to say, but the man beside her slipped his arm around the woman—Talia had to assume he was the husband—and leaned toward Talia. “Did you say Camden Sharpe? As in plays for DFW United?”
“Yes.” Warmth spread through Talia, as if she could take any credit for his celebrity status or skills. If the dad was a fan, this was going to be easier than she’d thought. She turned back to the mom. “I noticed you videotaped that little impromptu juggling lesson.” She pulled a business card out of her purse. “I would love for you to post the video to my channel. I’m running a little Christmas cheer right now with the hashtag ‘See the Good.’ I think this would fit in perfectly.” She lifted her hand. “If you want. No pressure.” She didn’t want to push. “If you post it on social media, feel free to tag Camden Sharpe.”
12
All at once, the flashes of memory that had been bugging him for the past week finally snapped into place. Ever since the car dance, Camden’s subconscious had pushed and prodded him with teases of images: the cock of her head at a certain angle; the slow smile that was higher on her left side, causing a dimple to peek out; and the way she stuck the tip of her tongue out for just a second when she was trying not to laugh. He knew he had seen her before, but there’d been something off. The hang-up had been that when he’d met her, Talia Thomas had sported a short, sassy cut, had been dressed in sharp business attire, and had been half a country from here in Seattle.
And maybe the length of hair and the wardrobe disconnect might not have thrown him off if he didn’t meet literally hundreds of reporters and fans and celebrities of all sorts in his line of work. He couldn’t be expected to remember everyone. And yet, now that he’d connected the dots, he couldn’t believe it had taken this long. Now that he recognized her, he couldn’t unsee it.
He tossed the ball back at the teenager. Although he seemed to be catching on, the middle of a crowded street at a Christmas festival really wasn’t a good place for learning a new skill. It was asking for trouble, and Cam had enough of that. Who brought a soccer ball to a place like this, anyway? Cam mentally shrugged. He would have at this kid’s age.
The problem was that Camden was distracted. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of Talia long enough to offer suggestions for improvement. It was that moment, when she’d left them to talk to the couple who seemed to be the teen’s parents, that he recognized the particular way she held her body, and the memory of a network reporter in Seattle snapped to mind like a rubber band.
But that was impossible. That woman hadn’t had even the slightest hint of a Southern accent, and she’d had a completely different personality. He studied her now as she spoke to the couple. She reached into her purse and drew out a business card. When she threw a glance his direction like she was checking to see if he was watching, recognition smacked him hard in the chest. That really could be her.
He swallowed. Talia Thomas. That Talia Thomas. Oh, he hadn’t remembered her name, but he hadn’t forgotten how she’d made him feel. She’d just been doing her job, of course, but she was the reason he was wary around reporters.
Now that she was walking back toward him, a smile on her face like she’d missed him in all of the three minutes she’d been gone, he had to decide how he was going to react. If this was the same reporter from Seattle, how did that change the person he’d met here in Dallas? The Talia Thomas here was almost literally the girl next door. She was sweet and funny, witty and fun. Never once in their time together had she come across as a shark type, ready to attack when least expected. She seemed genuine, and if nothing else, she had earned his cautious benefit of the doubt. Maybe this wasn’t the same person.
“What was that all about?” he asked when she got close enough for a conversation. Over her shoulder, he could see the couple chatting excitedly, the woman waving the card around.
“A little positive press.” She rubbed her palms together as if barely containing her own excitement. “Fans of yours, for some reason.” She looked over at the teen and then leaned in close to whisper. “They might post a video of the tutorial.” She straightened up and put both hands on her hips. “I bet you couldn’t have done this—” She indicated the soccer ball with her hand. “—in the Wyoming snow.”
Before Cam could respond, the kid laughed. “We get snow too. Last year it snowed six inches the day before our first game. Coach had us out there shoveling the field, hoping we could play. Ever try to shovel turf?” He blew his bangs up with a noisy exhale. “Impossible, even when it’s frozen. We didn’t even get the end zone cleared.”
“You mean the eighteen,” Cam corrected. If it was soccer, it was the eighteen-yard box. The kid might as well use the correct terminology.
“Yeah, that.” The teen picked up his ball.
“One of the hazards of Texas soccer seasons starting in January.”
The teen nodded. “Thanks for the help, man.” He headed off back toward his buddies, but not before Camden offered knuckles and they bumped fists.
The boy was gone and Cam was alone with Talia again. Five minutes ago, he would have been elated with that. Now, he wasn’t sure what to think. He didn’t want to just ask her about it, though. What if he was wrong? Enough doubt clouded his memory that he didn’t want to risk offending her. He’d do some digging when he got home before figuring out how to deal with the situation.
He would just have to act natural until then. They turned to face the tree, still waiting for seven o’clock for the lighting. “Earlier, you said one of the things you do is the MyHeartChannel.”
Someone bumped into Talia, knocking her off-balance. Reflexively, he reached out to steady her, not expecting the jolt of attraction he would feel when his hands wrapped around her upper arms. Being this close took all the breath from his lungs as if he’d been the one knocked into.
After a moment, he allowed his hands to slide slowly down her arms as he kept his eyes on hers. “That implies you have another job.” Did she still work as a network reporter as well? “Where else do you work?”
“I, uh . . .” She stumbled over her words and looked away from him and to the ground. “I recently started working at my friend’s jewelry shop.”
Was she hiding that she was a reporter? That seemed doubtful, considering she’d already fessed up to investigating on her MyHeartChannel. Was she embarrassed for some reason? Or was she as flustered by their nearness as he was?
Around them, people started chanting the countdown. Talia turned her attention to the still-dark tree and jumped in. “Six . . . five . . .”
Camden couldn’t take his eyes off h
er. He wanted to figure her out, discover what it was she was actually doing here with him and her motivations behind it, but he also didn’t want to break the spell of their time together. She elbowed him, and he realized he’d been staring. To cover it up, he joined in, counting down. “Four . . . three . . .”
At the culmination of the countdown, the multicolored lights flicked on, accompanied by sounds of appreciation from the crowd. Fireworks shot from the tops of the tall buildings surrounding them. He felt the thump of each Roman candle as it left its tube. Overhead, colorful sparks drizzled down. The celebration was much more elaborate than any Christmas celebration they’d ever had in Cobble Creek, though it was much tamer than events he’d avoided at Times Square when he’d lived in New York City. With the fireworks, it felt less like the commemoration of a silent night and more like an Independence Day or New Year’s Eve celebration. When the fireworks were spent, the crowd cheered, and the band started a country Christmas hit.
They turned to head back to the car.
“So, what did you think?” Talia looked like she’d met her favorite movie star. Should he pretend he felt the same? Everyone’s favorite was different.
“It was nice . . .” He let his words die off, unwilling to hurt her feelings.
He glanced around at the other attractions. A Ferris wheel lassoed the sky in the parking lot opposite the ice-skating rink. A carousel wound around at its feet. All the shops were open, and many of the square’s visitors carried shopping bags with ribboned handles. A Grinch sat on a nearby dais with a longer line than the Santa booth next to it.
“It was nice, but . . .” Talia repeated his statement with her own little addition. Obviously, she wanted him to elaborate.
“I liked it. I did. The fireworks were amazing, but definitely not Christmas.” He slowed their pace so an elderly couple could cross in front of them.
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