“Maybe not the kind of Christmas you’re used to, but still Christmas.” At least she didn’t sound annoyed with him. “What didn’t you like?” Was she asking for a reference point for future excursions, or was she going to defend Christmas in the Square?
“The excitement of the crowd is fun in its own way, but I’m more of an old-fashioned kind of guy.” How could he explain this? “Christmas doesn’t come from a big city shopping mall. It’s not about fancy ice-skating rinks with all the gear and sugary-sweet Christmas music; it’s the frozen pond out behind Jim’s place where he’s teaching kids to play hockey with broomsticks and laughter. It’s friends and neighbors gathering around an evergreen tree and singing carols.” He could never get behind making a big deal of lighting a pecan tree, no matter how established the plant and the tradition were. “It’s—” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “—community.” That one word summed it up for him, and he was happy he’d stumbled across it.
Talia gave him an appreciative look. “You paint a pretty, descriptive picture, but I have a hard time thinking it exists. Basically, you’re expecting a cable TV Christmas movie set.”
Camden chuckled at her good-natured ribbing. “You might be right, I guess, but I’ve never actually watched one.”
“No!” She gave him a look of utter shock. “Okay. That is completely unacceptable. We’ll have to fix that sometime in the next week and a half.”
He liked the sound of that. He pictured her cuddled into his chest, a fuzzy blanket over their laps and his arms around her. He could enjoy that—chick flick or not—except . . . Wait. How had his imagination jumped to that when she could be the one who’d soured him on reporters? If it really was her, the woman he was getting to know now, did it even matter who she was then? Except who was the real Talia Thomas?
Talia pulled out her phone to videotape. “So really, Cam, I need details. This isn’t Christmas to you. Why? I need to know so I can choose our next Christmas adventure.”
He thought about it, carefully crafting an answer since this might end up on her MyHeartChannel. “I get that everything’s supposed to be bigger in Texas, but I guess I’m not one of those people who think that bigger is always better.”
There. That was a nice sound bite, right?
Cam’s heart sank as he watched her excitement fade. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m still enjoying this. It’s got kind of a fair or carnival feel to it. Like over there—” He started walking toward a small clump of onlookers. He couldn’t tell what they were looking at yet, but it had piqued his curiosity. “Wouldn’t that be cool if it was that magician from that other MyHeartChannel—do you know the one I’m talking about?”
They reached the back of the crowd, and he was tall enough to see over most of the heads. Sadly, it wasn’t the Christmas magician. It was a Santa in a cowboy vest selling picture opportunities on a longhorn. Not his cup of cocoa, especially since all takers seemed to be under the age of ten.
He steered them away, nodding toward the Ferris wheel. “How are you with heights?”
13
Camden took another swing with his driver. The ball went farther than it had the last time, but still far from a respectable distance. Truth be told, he didn’t care much for golf and especially not driving ranges, but it was Brad’s turn to choose since they’d gone trail riding last time.
He hoped Brad was too wrapped up in his practice to notice, but no such luck.
“And here as a defender, I assumed you were good at judging distances.”
Brad, of course, was just ribbing him, but it was true. Though there was a huge difference between soccer and golf balls, his foot and a driver, and sixty yards versus two hundred, it all came back to practice—and desire. Cam honestly didn’t care about golf; he was just enjoying the relatively nice weather. He certainly wouldn’t have been at a driving range or on a mountain bike trail in December in Cobble Creek.
It was no use. No matter how hard he tried, Camden couldn’t get Talia out of his mind. He’d gone home after dropping her off last night, and before he’d even gotten out of his car, he was on his phone’s web browser searching Talia Thomas and Seattle. Several hits had come up, including the news clips he remembered from that day.
The fact that he didn’t bother to watch them again said a lot. She was the same reporter, but she wasn’t, and he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize their budding relationship. With the arrangements they’d made, they were kind of stuck for another eight days. If she didn’t bring up Seattle, he wouldn’t either. He couldn’t afford to make things awkward.
“Where did you grow up, Brad?” Cam might already have known, but he’d forgotten.
“West Coast. SoCal.”
“Then you’re used to the whole ‘winter holidays without the white stuff.’”
Brad rolled his shoulders and relaxed into his grip. “Yeah, having snow for Christmas would be weird. Texas gets a little cold for me sometimes, though. Why?”
Cam lined up another shot but answered before he swung. “Talia took me to that huge Christmas festival on the square or something like that—thousands of people, Santas on horseback, live country music, the whole thing. She’s trying to convince me that Christmas in Texas with a bajillion people is still Christmas, but I had to laugh when they made it snow every fifteen minutes.” He paused, concentrating on the ball but shanking pretty hard to the left.
Brad laughed. “And why is she trying to convince you of this?”
It was silly, and Cam wasn’t exactly sure, to be honest. He shrugged. “I might have said something dumb that night I was volunteering, and she just can’t let it go. It’s like if I don’t buy into this opinion, I’m dissing Texas—and her personally—by pointing out where it’s lacking. You know these Texans. Everything’s better in Texas . . .” Cam got the same read from Californians as well, so maybe Brad wouldn’t see it the same way he did.
“Oh, yeah, don’t insult the girl’s state—not if you like her.” Brad set his driver’s head on the ground behind the tee and looked straight at Cam for the first time. “That’s it, isn’t it? You like her. Whatever happened to you not being interested in hot girls because you don’t date?”
Camden would ignore most of that. “If you mean I like spending time with her, I guess. I mean, I’m stuck here until after the Christmas tree auction and I have nothing to do. No work, obviously, no family, and my friends have other things . . .”
He was making it out to be worse than it actually was. In the past few days alone, he’d had a chance to help Zeke out with Hartford Hope, worked out with some of the team members, and gotten much of his Christmas shopping done.
Brad scowled at him. “Don’t make this about me. I have a life. And a girlfriend.” He swung and hit another perfect ball. “Which is why I think you need one too.”
“Then why didn’t you call her that night?” They wouldn’t be in this mess if he had. Cam pictured what it might have been like if he hadn’t stepped in, but it could have been worse for the team if a full-on brawl had actually followed Jake’s sucker punch.
“She and I had just started dating. I wasn’t sure I was ready to pull her into team politics or expose her to prying fans.”
“Good point.” And the photos and internet buzz that would accompany Brad’s flavor of the week. “Is she your date for the auction?” Cam asked.
Brad adjusted the fit of his ball cap. “Eh. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t want her to get the wrong idea, like we’re serious or something.”
“You did just call her your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, I don’t mean girlfriend girlfriend. She just is for now.”
Cam wasn’t that surprised. Not many of his teammates were married or even in serious relationships. It was challenging with all the travel, and if you got sold to another team … Was he crazy to think he wanted to try? He loved every bit of the game, constantly pushing himself to make it to the next level, but when he’d been at the Ha
rtford Hope event and interacted with the kids, he’d discovered a hole he hadn’t realized was in his life. Having a serious relationship might be career suicide when he was at the top of his game, but he’d seen other families make it. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready for kids yet, but companionship, love . . .
Had he ever even had that? Losing Mary Alice, seeing with his own eyes what she had with her best friend Ryland, had made him recognize that he’d just been going through the motions with her, but now, everywhere he went, he noticed couples in love. Take Zeke and Kendall at the bowling alley the other night. They’d teased and flirted, even while one or the other had their little girl on their hip. Just the way they spoke to each other, the looks they probably thought no one else in the room noticed, the light touches anytime they were standing next to each other, he noticed.
But this train of thought really had little to do with Mary Alice and Ryland or Zeke and Kendall. It one hundred percent had to do with the time Camden had spent with Talia. She was the one who had opened his eyes and his heart to the possibility that love could be in his future. When they were together, he saw the world through a different lens—a filter of joy and adventure. Because of her, his life was brighter, more colorful, more cheerful. It was as if Christmas had taken over his life—and if that was the case, he never wanted the new year to come.
But at the same time, he was confused about Seattle. Should he allow their past to obfuscate what might be happening now?
“Who are you taking to the auction?” Brad asked.
Camden lucked out there. “Talia. My agent said Shane requested I take her. Also, since she agreed to help me decorate my tree, taking her to the event only seems fair.”
“She offered to help you decorate?” Brad lifted his eyelids, insinuating that this action on Talia’s part meant something significant. “I had to beg my sister to help. Beg her. And even then, all she did was order a few things online and have it shipped here. I still have to do all of the decorating.” He hit his last ball with extra force.
“Glad I didn’t ask my sister for help.” Cam allowed sarcasm to make his point.
“Exactly. I opened one of the boxes that came. I don’t even know what that stuff is or what I’m supposed to do with it.” He shook his head. “I’d be worried, except I happen to know the public relations department hired a stylist to stage all the trees before the auction. With a safety net like that, there’s no pressure for it to be perfect. I can just slap it up there and they’ll fix it.”
So much for the trees being personally decorated by the team member. What the public didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. Now finished with his last ball, Cam grabbed the pullover he’d stripped off after he’d warmed up. “Have you seen anyone from the team since the meeting?”
Brad gave a half shrug. “A couple. I wouldn’t worry about it. I think it’s all blown over.”
Of course Brad would think that. It wasn’t his reputation—or face—that had taken the hit. But he’d also been on the team longer and knew the guys better.
“You stepping into the fray like that earned you street cred with the team.”
Cam could respect that, though he wouldn’t have done it on purpose. As long as they were able to scar over the team rift before next season, all Cam cared about was getting to the MLS Cup Finals and having some fun along the way.
“So tell me about this festival,” Camden said as they walked down the sidewalk toward Bluebonnet’s town square.
The other night, Talia had promised this festival would be more to his liking, but since she knew practically nothing about him, he didn’t have the most confidence in her opinion of his likes and dislikes. He really wasn’t in the mood for more flashing lights and taco trucks and Santa on horseback.
But already he could tell this evening’s festival and the one two nights ago were like comparing reindeer-drawn sleigh travel with jet airplanes. Tonight, there were fewer festival-goers, and those that were there appeared calmer and less hurried. This had the makings of being much closer to his style. Peaceful, even.
He hoped so. He was already a little off-kilter, a little sick to his stomach, stressing over their history in Seattle. Should he bring it up, if for no other reason than to get it off his chest and out of his mind?
“I don’t want to prejudice you,” she said, her voice teasing. “It’s better to just experience it yourself.” This could end up being awful. She pointed to a street pole banner. The flag with Bluebonnet’s Dickens of a Christmas printed on it flapped in the breeze. “That’s the only hint you need.”
From the clock tower over city hall to the mom-and-pop boutiques, the setting was inarguably different from the other nights’ festival. Not one chain store filled the shops. Instead of a portable grandstand with loud, live rock music versions of Christmas tunes, speakers broadcast the Christmas originals at a much lower decibel level as a calming background. There were Christmas lights, but whites only in the trees, not strung across the streets like fishnets, choreographed to loud rock music. Decorations looked Victorian or homemade and subtle, and no one and nothing screamed for attention. This was more like it.
As they walked by, a tall man in the back row of a Victorian octet of carolers tipped his hat to Talia as they finished “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” She smiled back, and they stopped to wait for their next song. When they paused to catch their breath, Camden noticed the glow on the carolers’ faces; the temperatures in the upper fifties were a little too warm with their wool coats and fake-fur muffs.
Instead of the smell of frying oil, the scent of cinnamon-coated pecans roasting had his tummy rumbling in anticipation. When he saw the vendor, he turned to Talia. “Get out your camera. You’re going to want to record this. This is Christmas.”
He paid the vendor and accepted his bag, inhaling deeply as he pulled it close. He barely held back the temptation to dig in before he offered the bag to Talia. “Heaven in a bag, and I’m offering you the first bite.”
Talia chuckled. “We haven’t even gotten started yet.” She handed him the camera so she could nab a few of the treats. She popped one into her mouth, and her eyelids fluttered with enjoyment. “Mmm. Yeah, you weren’t exaggerating.” She breathed in deeply herself before switching the bag for the camera again.
“I figure if I get some now,” Cam explained, “I’ll have a chance to buy more later before we leave.” Why not, right? He looked around, much more comfortable in the smaller crowd and slower pace. “Where to first?”
Talia pocketed her phone and then stood, hands on her hips, looking down each of the streets. “That depends. How do you feel about trains?”
As long as he was with her, it didn’t really matter. The shop they walked into probably made ninety-five percent of its annual income during the month of December. Geared toward hobbyists who built battlefield reenactments at home, the shop had an entire room full of train tracks through detailed landscapes and scenes in miniature. He was more interested in the changes in topology than the electric trains that chugged around the track, but there were plenty of younger children enthralled with them.
Bored, he watched Talia instead. She seemed to soak in and catalog every detail of the room, the trains, and the people. “I looked up your MyHeartChannel,” he said.
Her eyes immediately snapped to his. Was that fear he saw?
“The videos are great. You did a good job with the clips from the Hartford Hope event. Thank you for making me look so good.”
Relief melted her back into the easygoing woman he’d come with. “I just posted the truth.”
A truth, for sure, but the video from in front of Buster’s showed that truth wasn’t always obvious. He wasn’t naïve. She could have made him look bad if she’d wanted to.
Like she had back in Seattle. Even though Mary Alice was doing a good thing for the community, the reporter in Talia had skewed things away from the positive and twisted his friend’s pure motives into something sinister and underhanded. Guilt and distrust bur
ned the back of his mouth. He had to say something. This flopping back and forth between not trusting her and wanting to believe the best in her was confounding his brain and confusing his heart.
Talia engaged a young boy in an interview about the trains, and the whole time, Cam couldn’t see anyone other than the Seattle reporter, but some things had changed. And it was more than her appearance. Even the kind of stories she pursued had changed.
As #SeeTheGood indicated, the new Talia Thomas truly seemed to be looking for the positive in life. Why else would her first interview of the day be the boy in the train engineer’s hat clutching a chunky wooden train whistle? Cam couldn’t imagine the Seattle reporter even giving the kid a second glance. Yet the Seattle reporter and this woman in front of him were the same person. The only question was, which one was real?
After she completed the interview, they migrated out of the building.
The memories and worries gnawed at Camden, and he decided it was time to deal with it. “For a while now, I’ve thought you looked familiar to me, and then the other night I thought I might have remembered where. When I looked through your older stories, I realized you and I met before.”
His heart pounded, not with fear—though she could annihilate him on social media—but with dread. What was he doing confronting her? It could ruin everything. But he had to let her know he knew.
She bit her lip and her eyes were glassy. Would she question it? Deny it?
After a long moment, she gave a slight nod. “In Seattle.” She pressed her lips together and looked away, blinking. “I’m sorry.”
14
Talia’s heart raced. Today had been such a good day. They hadn’t been at the Dickens Christmas festival long, but long enough for Camden’s shoulders to relax and his comfortable sense of humor to shine. She’d been congratulating herself on her good luck. Not only did her videos of him as Santa pretty much save her career; he was offering her full access, which meant more MyHeartChannel content, and even better, getting to spend time with him. She didn’t want to admit it, but after only knowing him a week, she already didn’t want to think of the hole he would leave in her heart when he went off to Cobble Creek.
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