Second String: Book 5 Last Play Romance Series

by Taylor Hart

  Clearing his throat, he gave her a half nod. “Well, I am thinking sometime around the fourth of July.”

  Scrunching up her face, she nodded and sat back down, focusing on her computer. “Great. The fourth of the July still has two family spots open. What name should I put down?”

  “Uhh …” He didn’t want to say his name. He just didn’t.

  When she glanced up at him, he noticed how long her eyelashes were. “Name?” she prodded.

  All he could think about was how bookish and completely professional she looked. It distracted him. “Umm, what if I want to try it before I book it for my family?”

  Frowning for a second, she typed on the computer. “Okay, but we only have the special today. If you book a family of four or more, you get a ten percent discount.”

  “What kind of a discount do I get for booking one person today?” Of course, he didn’t need a discount. He just wanted to talk to her.

  The side of her lip flicked down. “When do you want to go?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  She sighed. “I can give you a five percent discount for tomorrow, but there’s only one open spot in the morning.” A half smile curved her lips.

  His heart rate shot up, and his mouth felt extremely dry. “Okay. Tomorrow. What time?”

  A few keystrokes later, she glanced back up at him. “How about six thirty?”

  “In the morning?” The only time Cam was up at six thirty in the morning was during two-a-day practices, so his next words were completely unexpected. “Will you be there?”

  She glanced up, a forced smile on her face. “Uh, no.” Lifting her left hand, she flaunted a huge diamond. “Just so you know, I’m engaged.”

  Embarrassment filled him. How had he gotten himself into this mess? To mask his embarrassment, he turned on his Cameron Cruz persona, the arrogant, cocky professional football player who’d been hiding the past few months. “Oh, you thought?” He wagged his finger between them and let out a fake laugh. “Right. Look, I just … I was taking pity on you for your commissions.” He gave her an innocent look.

  Her cheeks went bright red. “Oh.” Her eyes narrowed to a glare. “Right. Pity. Thanks. I mean …” She tapped more on the keyboard. “Because if you were hitting on me, you’d shave that mountain-man beard first, right?” Her eyes flicked up and took on a hard glint. “Because I’m sure your mother taught you to clean up before you ask for a date.”

  The nerve. The unbelievable nerve of her. Adrenaline shot through him. He felt like the Storm was down by a touchdown and offense had just gotten the ball back. It was time to act.

  He was about to retort, but she cut him off. “So six thirty tomorrow morning?” She scrunched up her nose and gave him a pointed look. “Unless you’re scared of the Snake River? It can be scary if you’ve never done it before.” A mock look of concern filled her face.

  Taken off guard, he glared back at her. “Six thirty sounds great.” Crap, now he’d have to go.

  “Great.” After a few more taps on the keyboard, she put her hand out. “How would you like to pay?”

  Chapter 3

  Katherine Foster didn’t usually get up at five thirty in the morning to take tours down the river. The job agreement had been that she would work from eight to two every day in the office. This would give her plenty of time to work on her dissertation.

  Of course, she didn’t mind doing a tour now and then; rafting was one of her passions. She’d been a guide on the Snake River since she was sixteen. Growing up, her grandfather had taught her everything about this river, including how to navigate through the steady parts as well as the rapid parts. In fact, he’d owned the company she was working for.

  Then he’d died, and her mother had decided to sell it without even consulting her. When she’d confronted her mother about it, she’d simply shrugged and said she’d never had any use for the asinine little guide company anyway. Wasn’t it easy to sit in her large beach mansion in San Diego, with her new husband, and forget all the memories of Jackson?

  The conversation with her mother had decided her summer plans. Seeing the cold chill her father had regularly complained about, seeing the complete lack of care for the company her grandfather had left her, had made Kat decide she would move to Jackson for the summer and work at the “asinine little company”—because Kat did want to remember. Luckily, one of her professors had told her one of his consulting clients needed a college student to take care of his home for the summer. She’d immediately offered to do it.

  Coming to Jackson turned out to be a great decision. When Kat had called and asked the current owners about working for them, they’d been thrilled, telling her that her primary work would be in the office. With a little negotiating, she worked out a deal where she could also use their equipment anytime she wanted. They had even paid for her certification. The only catch was, she had to help out with the tours if one of the guides couldn’t do it.

  Between this job and the caretaking job, she had a place to live, some pocket money, the chance to stay connected to her grandfather, and time to focus on her dissertation. The only downside was being so far away from Steven. After their semi-breakup a few months ago, things were better than ever. Really, she had nothing to complain about.

  Then her phone rang at five thirty in the morning. Reluctantly, she’d pulled herself out of bed to take the tour. She rushed to the store, loaded up the canoe in her van, and crossed her fingers the guy wouldn’t show up. She had this dream she could take the canoe down the river by herself this morning, and the rude, cocky, completely self-centered bearded guy from the day before definitely wasn’t part of the fantasy. True, it wasn’t wise to go without a partner, but she yearned for the river, for time by herself. Breathing and taking everything in. She wanted to steer her thoughts from her dissertation.

  After arriving at the point in the river where the tours always directed their patrons to meet, she pulled out the canoe and waited. It was barely six twenty-five.

  Over the past week, her mother had left three messages and was getting more persistent every time in demanding Kat call her back. The time difference meant Kat was two hours ahead. Grinning, she hoped her call would go straight to voicemail.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d been in the psych ward last year when you were in London?”

  Her adrenaline spiked. “W-what?” How had her mother even found out?

  “Some of your forwarded medical bills showed up at my house.”

  Panic surged inside of her. She did not need this.

  “Kat?”

  “I handled it.”

  “Katherine,” her mother said firmly. She could envision her mother getting her bearings, probably in her bed with legal papers all around her. She’d always fallen asleep buried in her work. That was the only thing she cared about.

  “You weren’t meant to know.”

  “Honey, I’m so sorry. I wish I could have—”

  “Let’s not do this. Please don’t pretend something you’ve never felt.” The best thing about her time in the “psych ward,” as her mother had so tactfully called it, was she’d gained tools for dealing with her mother.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.” And she was. Better than fine, even.

  Her mother paused, then asked, “Is this where you met Steven?”

  Humiliation washed over her. “I’m not getting into this.”

  “Ah.” Her mother sounded flabbergasted. “But I want to talk about it. I haven’t heard from you lately.”

  “I need to do my appointed check-in with the nanny. Oh wait—there’s no more nanny to check in with.” Yes, she was being rude, but she was over her mother’s disinterest in her life. She’d been hurt one too many times and wasn’t going to try to change things because her mother was having some midlife crisis. At least, that’s what it sounded like on the messages she’d left.

  “Katherine,” her mom said in a patronizing tone, “how come you
don’t give your father this much grief?”

  This comment gave her pause. Her mother was right; she’d never expected anything from her father. After the divorce, he’d packed up and moved to the East Coast, taking half of the money and buying a small beach cottage in Maine. He sent the occasional check in email, detailing his new novel, but he never asked her to come or call. Part of her had accepted his lack of attention a long time ago. “If we didn’t talk, I wouldn’t give you grief, either,” she said quietly, half wanting her mother to quit calling, and the other half … still a child, still wanting to believe her mother cared for her.

  After a beat, her mother said, “I was just thinking maybe you should come to California for a few weeks?”

  Katherine laughed out loud. “Really? When I was in boarding school, you used to tell me it might be better if I spent summer breaks studying harder.”

  “Katherine.” Her tone was sharp.

  The center of Kat’s chest tightened. Steven had helped her see the relationship with her parents for what it was—over. Yet all the old guilt had surfaced. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” But the ache inside her chest was growing. Her feelings, when dealing with her mother, were never simple and neat and tidy like data for her dissertation.

  “I … want to be closer to you.”

  The admission took her by surprise. Kat found all the walls she’d built against her mother starting to crumble. She asked about the thing she’d been most hurt over. “Why did you sell Grandfather’s business and ranch? Why?”

  “What?” Her mother sounded surprised.

  “After he died. Why didn’t you even ask if I wanted it?”

  “Katherine, now you’re just being silly. It was over a long time ago.”

  “Did you even know I’m currently in Jackson, Mom? I’m here writing my dissertation. And I’m working for Grandfather’s old company.”

  Her mother let out an exasperated breath. “If you needed money, you could have asked.”

  “I’m here for me. I’m here because … I love it here.”

  “Don’t say that. Podunk Wyoming is no place for you.”

  “Stop. Okay. Just …”

  “I don’t understand this fascination you’ve always had with Jackson Hole.”

  “Grandfather was good to me.”

  “I know.” Her voice was stilted. “Even though I didn’t see eye to eye with my father, I won’t deny he was very good to you.”

  “Then what is your problem?”

  “Nothing,” she answered quickly. Then she got quiet.

  Kat’s heart was pounding inside her chest. This had completely taken her off guard. Her mother had never taken a real interest in her life. Kat didn’t know what to say. Knowing she would regret it, but unable to stop herself, she opened up. “I’m writing my dissertation on helping kids get out of poverty through nature.”

  Her mother paused, then cleared her throat. “Oh.”

  Kat sighed, pushing down all the emotion from this conversation. “Grandfather’s ranch would have been amazing. I wish … I wish you still had it.”

  “It was sold right after he passed.”

  “I know. I just wish …” A tear fell down Kat’s cheek, and she brushed it away.

  “Kat, sweetie, your problem is you’ve always lived in a fairy tale. That’s probably what drove you to the psych ward. Let me tell you, as your mother: fairy tales aren’t real. You have to accept it. Me and your father aren’t getting back together. Your grandfather is dead. Just accept it.”

  “I have to go.” Listening to another word of this wouldn’t be good for either of them.

  “Kat, please don’t interrupt me.”

  Kat saw a truck pull up. “I gotta go.” She pressed end and felt like she wanted to throw up.

  She watched the mountain-man beard guy from yesterday get out of the truck, and she sucked in a breath, wishing she hadn’t returned her mother’s call. Forcing herself to let go of her anger at her mother, she focused on the duties at hand.

  He moved toward her.

  She thought of yesterday at the store and the way he’d said he was taking pity on her, as if he were some rich billionaire giving a twenty to a homeless person. The thing that annoyed her most was she’d actually given him a second thought last night.

  And a third.

  And a fourth.

  His face seemed familiar to her, but she couldn’t place it. It was probably because of the stupid beard.

  Chapter 4

  Cam had seriously considered turning off his phone alarm and going back to sleep. As he lugged himself out of bed, he told himself he could always come back and take a nap later.

  He put on his swim shorts and grabbed his Tevas, but halted outside of the bathroom. He went back and inspected his face. It was shaggy.

  Forget her. He took his ball cap and shoved it onto his head. Maybe he liked shaggy.

  Fifteen minutes later, he showed up at the designated spot and instantly regretted not trimming the beard.

  There she was. The woman from yesterday. He parked and tried not to notice the blond bun from yesterday was gone and her hair was loose and free over her tan shoulders. She wore a simple black one-piece swimsuit that crossed in the back and some red shorts. He couldn’t say it didn’t give him an extra stir within his breast when she shoved a Denver Storm hat on her head and pulled her blond hair out of the back of it. She looked completely different from yesterday. She was at least five-ten, maybe even five-eleven, with legs that seemed to go on forever. For some reason, he hadn’t realized how tall she was yesterday.

  Ignoring the rapid beating of his heart, he tried to casually walk toward the spot where she stood with the canoe.

  She frowned. “I was wondering if you’d actually show up today.”

  Hating the way the air electrified between them, he tried to be nonchalant. “What do you take me for? I wouldn’t throw away good money.”

  “Right.” Tugging on a pair of sunglasses, she blatantly looked him up and down. “I’d take you for … a rich guy. On vacation. Probably divorced.”

  Grabbing his chest, he was unexpectedly offended. “Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a ranch guy that knows what hard work is and knows not to waste money.”

  She squinted. “Really?”

  “Born and bred.” He gave a stiff nod.

  “A cowboy, then?”

  “Kind of.” He didn’t want to tell her what he did for a living. “Why would you think I’m divorced?”

  “A wife wouldn’t let you keep a beard like that.”

  He jolted, then roared with laughter. He liked this girl more and more. It didn’t hurt she was easy to look at, either. “Well, I’m not divorced, and I’ve actually never been married.”

  “Guess that doesn’t surprise me, either.”

  Unwillingly, he laughed at her snarkiness. “You just tell it like you see it.”

  She flung a life jacket at him and nodded to the canoe. “The main thing to remember is, don’t take the life jacket off. Ever.” She turned and began pushing the canoe into the water. “There’s a van waiting at the end of our route. I’ll bring you back in three hours. Put the life jacket on, mountain man, and don’t take it off until we’re done.”

  Scrambling to get the life jacket on, Cam jogged into the water, grabbed the side of the canoe, and eased himself in. “I think I like ‘cowboy’ better.”

  “I don’t care.” The woman easily maneuvered them into the river and then hopped in, immediately taking the oar to guide them out.

  Unable to look away from her, Cam tried to disguise his gaze by focusing on buckling the jacket and then picking up the oar. It’d been a long time since he’d been on a river rafting trip, but he was a quick learner. He began following her cues and helped navigate them further into the center of the river.

  She glanced at him. “Obviously you don’t need much tutelage.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, he didn’t try to look away from her. He could tell she had ju
st gotten out of bed too; it was obvious with the way she put her hair back in the ball cap and wore no makeup. Still, she was beautiful. “I think you look better today than you did in the shop yesterday.”

  At his words, she pinched her lips. “Well, good thing that doesn’t matter.”

  “Right,” he conceded, feeling more like himself than he had in months. “I want you to know, fiancé or not, if I would have known you were doing the tour, I might have shaved.”

  For a second, she looked stunned. Then her lip cocked up. “Is this more of your pity interest in me?”

  He cleared his throat, feeling caught. After a moment, he decided to do the right thing. “I never should have said that yesterday. I’m sorry.”

  Hesitating, she looked away, then nodded to the side of the canoe. “I suppose you know the rules of canoeing?”

  Grateful she appeared to be letting his rude comment go, he faced her. “Tell me, boss.”

  After a fifteen-minute rundown of the dos and don’ts, Cam was feeling more confident in his skills. They fell into an easy rhythm with each other. He glanced at her. “You’ve been doing this a while?”

  She shrugged and didn’t say anything.

  After a beat, he said, “We’re on, like, a three-hour tour, so we may as well get to know each other. Unless you don’t think your engagement can handle it.”

  A sarcastic grunt spluttered out. “We’ll do niceties because I’m your tour guide. That’s all.”

  “Fine.”

  “Fine.”

  “So let’s start with my tour guide’s name,” he said, kind of obnoxiously.

  Focusing her gaze on the water, she cocked her head to the side. “Katherine Foster, but people call me Kat.”

  He refrained from making a comment about a kitty-cat or a hellcat or something. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cam.”

  “I know. I ran your credit card yesterday, remember?” she said in a bored tone. “Cameron Cruz.”

  His heart thudded inside his chest. Did she not know who he was, or was she playing some game?

  Letting it go, he looked around. It wasn’t early enough for a sunrise, but it was early enough the air still had a slight chill. The side of the river seemed to come to life as the sun rose higher, all the wildflowers and the trees. It was peaceful as they glided along. Granted, he was on alert sitting across from her, but it was still calm.