An Unplanned Christmas

by Lizzie Shane

  “You’re calling it an experience? Not a date?” the reporter asked, her eyebrows arching.

  “It’s so much more than a date,” Rachel said without missing a beat. “Just like the event is so much more than a bachelor auction. Naturally, that’s a large part of the evening and it will be a lot of fun for the bidders and spectators alike, but we also have a silent auction and a number of raffles throughout the evening—including the Express Pass. That’s a new feature for this year’s fundraiser—making the event more exciting for the patrons who want to support Russell House, but may not be able to afford to bid thousands for our bachelors. For the low price of a raffle ticket, attendees can be entered to win the Express Pass, which will be drawn immediately before the live auction begins. The Express Pass winner then gets their choice of any of the Bachelor experiences—so if you’d like to go hiking and paragliding with a famous rock-climber or fly an F-15 with our fighter pilot, you could win the experience of a lifetime for just the cost of a raffle ticket.”

  “Or you could win a day taking batting practice with me, a private coaching session with dinner afterwards, and two seats in the owner’s box on Opening Day, with a signed jersey to wear to the game.”

  “That does sound like quite a prize,” the reporter cooed, fluttering her lashes at him again. “So are there still tickets available?”

  “Absolutely.” Rachel stepped forward, as if Miss Smith had asked her the question. “I’ll give you all the information on how your readers can register for the event, but right now I’m afraid Mr. Cole is needed for the photo shoot. Shall we watch from over here?”

  Rachel steered the reporter away from him, smiling calmly and making it sound like she was helping the woman out, giving her the best possible view. She’d always been good at this stuff. It was what had first caught his eye.

  The team had bought a table at a cystic fibrosis event and he’d been there with some of the guys—his first event without Erika on his arm. Their marriage had been functionally over for a year by then, but it had still felt odd, being there that night without her. Even when they rarely saw one another during the season, they’d always gone to those kinds of things together, presenting the perfect united front. Even if it was just an illusion. And a habit. His life had been a series of habits and rituals.

  And then he’d seen Rachel, calmly ruling the world…

  “Mr. Cole? We’re ready for you.”

  Jerked out of his musings, Cam followed the production assistant to the set where he shook hands with the other bachelors. The photographer handed out Santa hats and began arranging them on a series of blocks around a giant Russell House logo and for the next several minutes Cam turned off his brain and followed directions. Sit here, crouch there, smile, don’t smile, brood, smirk, fold your arms, flex your arms.

  He hesitated when the photographer asked him to take his shirt off—but Rachel proved she’d been paying attention from her perch to one side, stepping forward to speak quietly to the photographer who apparently let himself be convinced they didn’t need the rippling pecs photos after all.

  Rachel retreated back to the director chairs where she had been sitting with the Boulder Life lady—and Cam’s gaze followed her.

  She looked good in her tight skirt and the silky blouse that made him want to reach out and touch—though the fine fabric would probably snag on his calloused hands. But then she’d looked good in one of his old jerseys and a pair of boxers too. Her hair had been down then—he didn’t think he’d ever seen it up before today. Though it looked good like this. Businesslike. She radiated competence—which was sexy as hell.

  “Eyes to the left, please, Mr. Cole.”

  He snapped his gaze back toward the camera, his face heating beneath the make-up.

  He needed to keep his head in the game. He was here for Russell House—not to ogle the one who got away. Cam forced himself to focus on what he was doing, putting his all into smoldering for the camera as the photographer finished the group shots and pulled him aside for some close-ups.

  The Boulder Life piranha swooped in on the other bachelors, her lashes fluttering at Mach two. Rachel apparently didn’t think those guys needed babysitting, because she wandered over to a bank of computer screens with one of the photographer’s assistants and bent to peer at one of the monitors, her skirt pulling tight across her—

  “Mr. Cole? Look right here.”

  Cam snapped his gaze back to the camera, silently cursing his distraction. What was he doing? She was just a woman. Yes, she was gorgeous—but after eight years in the majors he’d gotten used to women who would normally be out of his league giving him the time of day. Even though he’d been married most of that time and hadn’t taken advantage of it. What was so special about Rachel?

  His brain immediately provided flashes of memory to answer the question. Three weeks. That’s all they’d had. But each day had been better than the last. They’d talked for hours that first night, so caught up in one another that neither of them had noticed how late it got, or that the hotel staff had cleared the ballroom while they were out on the balcony, enjoying the warm September night.

  Everything had been perfect. They’d just fit. He’d never clicked with anyone like that, like they’d known one another for decades rather than days.

  He’d never been a believer in love at first sight, but he had started to believe with Rachel—

  And then she’d been gone. Just like that. She’d come with him on the last road trip of the season and when they got back he’d been thinking forever, but she’d obviously had other plans.

  She’d been supposed to meet him after the game that day. They were in the hunt for the playoffs, so close he could taste it. He’d played well, going three-for-four with two RBIs, but they’d still lost—and then he’d gotten the text. Leaving him wondering what the hell had happened.

  It would have been one thing if they’d fought. Or even disagreed about anything. But things had been pretty damn perfect.

  He’d wondered if she’d found out about his ex and jumped to conclusions, but he couldn’t stop thinking of how she’d reacted when he’d told her he loved her that morning. When she’d said she was somewhat fond of him. Was that why she’d bailed? Because she didn’t feel the same?

  He’d never known—and maybe that was why he couldn’t stop obsessing about her now. The not knowing. He needed a freaking reason. Closure, right? That was what therapists were always going on about, wasn’t it?

  She hadn’t taken his calls or responded to his texts. She’d always met him or come to his place so he hadn’t even known where she lived—which had just reminded him how little he really knew about her. Had she been hiding something? Had something happened to change her mind about him?

  His teammates would have told him he was lucky he hadn’t wound up married to the rebound chick. That dating while you were getting divorced was a great way to end up with two expensive ex-wives on the payroll. But it hadn’t felt like a rebound. It had felt like his freaking soulmate. He hadn’t even believed in soulmates until then.

  He’d finalized his divorce and signed a free agent deal with LA, leaving Colorado behind, but he’d never gotten closure from Rachel. Didn’t she owe him that at least?

  Now he was back for the off-season, spending time with his family over the holidays and doing the Russell House fundraiser. What better time to hash out unfinished business and move on?

  “Perfect,” the photographer declared—and he realized he’d been glowering into the camera. Apparently brooding was a good look for these things. “I think we’re all set.”

  Thanking the photographer, Cam handed over the Santa hat and accepted a wipe from the make-up artists, scrubbing gunk off his face—but never taking his eyes off Rachel. She’d avoided meeting his eyes all afternoon, but she couldn’t avoid him forever.

  They needed to talk.

  Chapter Four

  He was watching her.

 
Rachel tried to focus on the photos flashing across the screen in front of her, but she could feel Cam’s gaze tickling the back of her neck and making her want to squirm. She had a job to do and she was going to do it, damn it. Past relationship drama would just have to wait until…never. Never sounded good. She would do her job. He would do his. And they would part ways. End of story.

  Except now it was guilt making her squirm. Did she have some obligation to tell him about Sofie? At the time, she’d blocked his number, too wrecked by all the lies she’d stupidly believed to listen to another word from him. When she’d found out she was pregnant, she’d agonized over whether or not to tell him. She’d put it off, telling herself it didn’t make sense to reach out to him while she was still in the high-risk first trimester. Then she’d read that he’d taken the job in LA and she’d told herself it was for the best. He was a cheating scumbag. She was doing what was best for her daughter, protecting her from later hurt by not telling him.

  But with him here right now, it felt more like a lie.

  He was the liar, she reminded herself. He may be divorced now—a fact which apparently hadn’t merited the same headlines as his move to LA—but he’d still been very married when he’d been whisking her off on weekend trips to San Francisco to watch him play the Giants. He was married when she got pregnant—just like her father had been when her mother conceived her. That apple certainly hadn’t fallen far from the tree—no matter how much she might have wished otherwise.

  No. He didn’t deserve to know. He didn’t deserve a damn thing from her. He’d lied to her and used her—

  “Rachel?”

  She jumped, spinning toward the photographer who was graciously donating his services to Russell House. “Michael. Are we all set?”

  “I think we have everything we need.” He nodded toward the cluster of bachelors who were gathering up their coats. “They were easy. I’ll send along the finals as soon as I’ve retouched them.”

  “Thank you. We really appreciate it.”

  “My pleasure. Anything for a good cause, right?” He went back to gathering up his equipment, and Rachel’s attention veered back to the bachelors.

  Amanda Smith had latched onto the Air Force pilot, but since he seemed to be enjoying the attention Rachel decided not to intervene. She’d spoken to Amanda during the shoot, providing background on the various bachelors and the experiences they were offering up for the auction. Cam would still be the main bachelor featured in the article, but Rachel had given the reporter carte blanche to include the other men as well. Anything to boost last minute ticket sales. The big bidders and corporate sponsors had already secured their tables, but if they could fill out the ballroom with smaller donors by luring them in with the raffles and the Express Pass, they could make this year’s event the most profitable yet. And TD Events would be even more in-demand on the charity circuit.

  Once the bachelors had filtered out of the building, taking Amanda Smith with them, Rachel gathered up her bag, thanked the volunteer hair and make-up crew, and headed for the door. Cam was nowhere in sight—which was good. Distance was exactly what she needed.

  But as she stepped into the parking lot, a distinctive sex-god rasp spoke at her side. “Walk you to your car?”

  Rachel kept her expression polite and her walls up. Civil. “That won’t be necessary.” Lying bastard. She started toward her Hyundai.

  Cam fell into step beside her. “I insist.”

  It was tempting to smack him in the face with her computer bag. Even without her laptop inside, it packed a wallop. But she was being professional. Civil, damn it. “Good work today,” she commented, her voice perfectly bland. “I think we got some great shots for the website and the flyers.”

  “Are we going to talk about this?”

  It was trying to snow and a few light, puffy flakes swirled around them. The parking lot was emptying as the other bachelors climbed into their cars and peeled out, but that didn’t mean no one could hear them. “About what?” If only she’d arrived early enough to get a closer parking space.

  “Us,” Cam said baldly, ignoring all her I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this signals.

  “There is no us.”

  “There was. Or was that all in my imagination?”

  Rachel pursed her lips, walking a little faster. She was determined to focus on her job and the damn man seemed equally determined to dredge up the past.

  “Are you really trying to pretend it never happened?” he demanded, like a dog with a freaking bone.

  She shook her head and walked as fast as she dared on the icy pavement, not looking at him. She wasn’t sure what she was denying, but she needed to get away from this conversation.

  “Rachel.”

  “What?” she snapped, spinning back to face him, still ten feet from the bumper of her car. Her heel slipped on the ice and only his hand on her arm kept her from taking a hard fall, but she yanked her arm away.

  “What happened?” He dropped his hand, something in him seeming to deflate. “I thought things were going so well and then…”

  The softness in his eyes tightened her throat—until she remembered he was a liar.

  “You were married,” she snapped.

  Something flared in his eyes. “How did you find out about that?”

  “Are you serious?” she gasped. “That. That right there is the problem. Not no, I wasn’t, but how did you find out?”

  “That’s not—”

  “The real question is why I didn’t figure it out sooner. I felt like such an idiot because I hadn’t even Googled you. It was on your freaking Wikipedia page!”

  “Is that why you ghosted on me?”

  “It seemed like the logical thing to do when I saw your wife.” She shook her head, turning to continue toward her car. “You must have thought I was such a sucker. Did you want me to meet her? Is that why you invited me to that game? You must have known she’d be working the Rockies’ Wives booth, selling one of your jerseys for the team charities.”

  “I didn’t know. We’d been separated for months—” He sounded more weary than defensive—but in order to be defensive he probably had to acknowledge he’d done something wrong.

  She didn’t look back. “I told you about my father. I told you why I didn’t date athletes.”

  “Exactly!” His voice was close behind her. “I knew you’d never trust me if I told you I was still technically married—”

  “So it’s my fault you lied?” she asked incredulously, spinning back to face him.

  “We were separated!” The words echoed against the building. “We’d been separated for months. Nearly a year.”

  “I suppose that’s why she was parading around as your wife at Rockies’ Wives events? Because that’s exactly what people do in the middle of a divorce, right?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it. “She had cancer.”

  “That’s your excuse?” she shouted, no longer caring who heard them. “You couldn’t leave her while she was sick? So you’d just cheat on her instead?”

  “What? No. She left me. Long before I met you. We weren’t telling anyone about the separation because we needed her to stay on my insurance for her treatment—which I would have told you if you’d given me a chance to explain—”

  “You had three weeks to explain.” She shook her head, shaking away his excuses—her father had always had a ready excuse too. “You should have told me. You knew about my parents. You knew I didn’t want to be any man’s mistress—”

  “Which is why I couldn’t tell you! It was all so new and I didn’t want to lose you.”

  “Well, you lost me.” She turned toward her car, fishing out her key fob and unlocking it.

  “Rachel, wait.”

  She shook her head, unwilling to hear another word. “I just want to get through the next three weeks. This fundraiser is important to me and I will do everything in my power to make it a success and make your e
xperience with TD Events as pleasant as possible, but that’s all this is. That’s all it can be. Leave the past in the past, Cam.”

  It wasn’t until she was inside her car with the engine running, when she turned to back out of the space and saw the car seat sitting in her backseat that she remembered the other little complication in her relationship with Cam.

  She hadn’t told him about Sofie.

  For a moment, in the middle of the fight, she’d actually forgotten about her daughter’s relationship to Cam. Actually forgotten who he was.

  He’d lied to her, she reminded herself. She gripped the steering wheel and pulled out of the lot, refusing to look to see if he was still standing there watching her go. He may not have meant to hurt her, he may have had his reasons, but he’d lied.

  Her father had been like that. A sports legend, but also a genuinely nice guy. Big Aaron, with his big laugh and his big heart. Someone who never wanted to hurt anyone, but still cheated on his wife. A man who would play with his illegitimate daughter and make her laugh until she could barely breathe when he came to visit—but would always fly home to his real family. A man who had supported them when he was alive, but had left them without a freaking dime when he died, so they’d lost the house and had to move back in with her grandmother.

  No. Her daughter didn’t need a man like that in her life.

  Rachel had a plan for Sofie’s life. And it didn’t include Cameron Cole.

  Chapter Five

  Cam had come back to Colorado to spend more time with his family during the off-season, but at the moment the last thing he wanted to do was go to his sister’s house for family dinner. The fight with Rachel had him all twisted around.

  Her anger had caught him off guard. She hated him.

  All this time, he’d thought he’d been the injured party. She’d been the one who dumped him without a backward glance—via text, no less. Two hours ago he would have bet his lucky glove she wouldn’t even recognize him if she saw him on the street. He never would have predicted she was holding a grudge.