by Lizzie Shane
“How’s the fundraiser stuff going?” he asked. “Any more wine deliveries?”
“No, the mystery bags are all packed and ready to go to the venue. In fact everything’s going so well it’s making me nervous.”
“It could just be a sign that you’re prepared for anything.”
“I hope so. I really need it go well.” She fidgeted with a button on her coat, the loose one that Sofie always played with while she was strapping her into her car seat. “It’s my first time being in charge of an event of this size, and I just want to prove to my boss that I can do this.”
“Of course you can. You’re the most organized person I know. Pathologically organized. She has to know that.”
“It’s not just about organization. Yes, I want everything to run smoothly, but we also want everyone to have a good time—and to make a lot of money for the charity. To show they were smart to go to the expense of hiring us and made exponentially more than they would have if they’d just used volunteers. It’s my reputation, and TD Events’ reputation, and the Russell House’s financial future on the line. Everything has to be perfect.”
“You realize most people won’t notice if things aren’t up to your standards of perfection.”
“Yes, but I will.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He glanced over at her as he pulled into her apartment complex. “I don’t suppose you have any time in your airtight schedule this weekend? I have some Christmas presents that need wrapping and I thought maybe you and Sofie might want to come over and help. I’ll provide dinner.”
“Um…” Saying no was on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t even sure why, just that a little distance felt like the safest choice. To stall for time, she climbed out of the car and began unloading Sofie.
Cam came around behind her, jingling the keys in his hand. “I promise I’m not just asking so I can get you to wrap my presents for me. I’m actually amazing at gift-wrapping. Seriously. World class.”
Rachel cocked her head at him. “Then why do you need my help?”
“I don’t. I just want to see you.”
He said it so simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. How did he do that? How did he unravel all her defenses against him with six simple words?
“I’ll check my schedule.”
Cam grinned. He nodded to the carrier in her arms. “Do you want a hand getting her settled?”
She glanced down at the limp baby. “No. She probably won’t even wake up when I transfer her. Thanks for driving me back.” It hadn’t been necessary—but she was starting to realize that the unnecessary things were sometimes kind of nice.
“Any time. G’night, Rachel.”
She nodded her goodbye, starting up the stairs to her apartment, and trying to figure out just when Cam had started feeling like such a necessary unnecessary thing.
Chapter Seventeen
He still had the same condo.
The three-story townhome had to be four thousand square feet—all of it light and bright and luxurious. The natural colors and textures of Boulder’s rustic mountain esthetic paired with modern angles and lines like a jigsaw puzzle. It was gorgeous. And too familiar.
Rachel had been so sure he would have sold it when he moved to LA, until she pulled up to the address Cam had texted her on Saturday night. The same place she’d spent those September nights with him, where he’d told her he loved her.
But when he opened the front door she saw how much it had changed.
There was a high chair at the end of the butcher block table and an empty box for a car seat lying on its side near the island. The room smelled of pine, a ten-foot tree dominating one corner. There were a handful of presents beneath it already—including one large enough to fit an entire person inside it, which she was sure held the stuffed animal he’d texted her a picture of when he bought it from Costco—but it was the highchair Rachel’s gaze kept returning to.
She arched a brow at the baby debris. “You’ve been busy.”
“I have.” He grinned. “Come on in. Hello, sweet girl!”
“Da!” It wasn’t quite “Daddy” but it made Rachel’s heart jump as Sofie lurched sideways in her arms, flinging herself toward him. Cam caught her, lifting her up above his head and spinning in circles until her giggles filled the room.
Rachel set Sofie’s diaper bag near the door, toeing off her boots and shrugging out of her coat. Cam turned toward her with Sofie perched high in his arms.
“My sisters helped. They couldn’t wait to tell me what to do when I told them I wanted to make this place Sofie-friendly.” He nudged the car seat box out of the way with his foot. “I didn’t quite finish cleaning up, but Ashley said Sofie would probably love playing with the box.”
“She probably will.”
“Wait until you see the rest of it. There’s a whole nursery set up. Well. Mostly set up.”
He led the way down a hallway she didn’t think she’d ever noticed when she’d visited him here two years ago—and why would she have? The master was upstairs and she’d barely been aware of anything but Cam’s bedroom. And the rooftop hot tub.
The nursery, as Cam had called it, was bigger than the room Rachel shared with Sofie now—and it was adorable. His sisters had outdone themselves. Crib, changing table, a rocking chair with a little bookcase displaying dozens of books. New books with shiny, unbroken spines—not the used ones that were barely holding together that she’d been reading Sofie.
“What do you think, Sofie?” Cam asked, setting her down so she could explore the blocks and stuffed animals on a little play mat.
It was exactly the kind of nursery Rachel would have wanted—and she wasn’t sure how to feel. Delighted that Sofie got to have a place like this? Jealous that Cam was the one to give it to her? Grateful? Hesitant?
Even if he was playing at being a dad now, even if he was trying so hard to do everything right, at some point he would have to go back to LA. She shouldn’t get used to having him around. This wasn’t the new reality. It was just another phase to get used to—and it would pass as quickly as all of Sofie’s phases seemed to pass.
She couldn’t let herself get used to him.
She cleared her throat roughly. “You said you had presents to wrap?”
* * * * *
He’d bought her a tape dispenser.
She’d brought the crate of wrapping supplies from her storage unit—tissue paper, wrapping paper, ribbons, bows, tags—and she hadn’t needed any of it. Cam had a fully stocked area set up in the basement game room, flawlessly organized and ready to go, but then he’d handed her a little tape dispenser that she could strap to the back of her hand.
“To make wrapping more efficient,” he’d said. And she’d just about melted.
It was a silly thing to get gooey over, but there it was.
He really was amazing at wrapping presents. Which shouldn’t have surprised her. He’d always been good with his hands.
Yet another thing she had to keep reminding herself not to think.
He’d even been able to wrap presents with Sofie sitting on his lap “helping”—which was a miracle in itself. The baby had since fallen asleep on the couch and Cam had carried her into the nursery. Rachel knew she should be getting her home and into her own bed, but she’d been having such a good time she hadn’t wanted to stop. And the packages really did need wrapping. At least that was the excuse she gave herself.
It was fun. Being here with him. Talking about anything and everything with Christmas music playing in the background and Sofie snoozing peacefully on the baby monitor. Instead of feeling her usual surge of satisfaction at a task completed, Rachel was actually a little disappointed when the last present was wrapped.
The night had been so easy. So relaxing. She couldn’t remember the last time she could say that. And she wasn’t ready for it to end. But good sense had her gathering up the packages she’d brought over to wrap.
“I should get Sofie home.”
“You could stay here.” When she went still, he added, “There’s another guest room, right next to Sofie’s. It’s yours if you want it. Any time you like.”
But she didn’t want the guest room. And she wasn’t sure she would sleep there if she stayed. Which was why she needed to go.
“I have to work tomorrow. Our whole routine will be out of whack if Sofie wakes up here. And neither of us have any pajamas.”
“Pajamas.” Cam nodded. “I’ll have to get her some of those. Anything else I should add to the list?”
“You don’t have to do all this. I can bring you a few of her things for when she stays over.” The idea didn’t sound nearly as terrifying as it had a few days ago. When had she started letting herself trust Cam with her baby?
“I want to,” he insisted. “I like shopping for her. Making a place for you guys here.”
A question had been whispering through the back of her mind all night and she finally let herself ask it. “Is this where you lived with Erika when you were married?”
If the question surprised him, he didn’t show it. “No. We had a place down in Denver, near the ballpark. It was in a high rise. Great views, but I missed Boulder. When we split up, initially she went to live with her sister and I stayed in the apartment, but it just felt cold there by myself. I decided I’d rather have a forty minute commute and be close to home so I gave Erika the apartment and got this place. I’d only been in it a few months when we met.”
“And you kept it when you moved to LA?”
“I knew I wanted to spend the off-seasons here. I’ve never wanted to put down roots anywhere else. And I didn’t want to get too confident that I was going to stay in LA. Buying a house is a good way to get traded. Or kicked back down to the minors.”
“Still superstitious, I see.”
His grin was wry as he leaned against the covered pool table they’d used as a wrapping station. “Never trust the good things to last. That’s my motto.”
She blinked. The words seemed to apply to more than just baseball, but she just asked, “Are most teams in the habit of sending All-Star catchers down to the minors?”
“It happens more often than you might think. I only made the All-Star team once, three years ago. And yeah, I’m a franchise player now, but all it takes is one slump to change that. Everyone’s watching, waiting to see when I’ll lose a step and be too old to get it back.”
“You’re what? Thirty? Downright ancient.” The way he leaned against the pool table, the muscles beneath his shirt relaxed but still bulging impressively in all the right places, made it hard to think of him as anything close to retirement age.
“Catching is hard on your body. Some guys do it until they’re forty, but most of us are put out to pasture way before that. All it takes is me pulling a muscle at a moment when they have a catcher down in Triple-A who’s on a hot streak and my position’s gonna go to some kid. It’s only luck that’s keeping me here.”
“Luck. So you haven’t been training in the off season?”
“Of course I train. I work out every day. Run drills a few times a week. You gotta stay sharp.”
“Uh-huh.” Rachel cocked her head. “The way you define ‘luck’ it sounds a lot like working harder than anyone else. You know it’s not random that you made it to the majors. You earned it.”
“Yeah, but the second you start to believe you earned your place, the second you get comfortable, that’s when the rug gets yanked out. You can’t afford to take your foot off the gas. Not for a second.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It’s just focus. Staying on top is like walking a tightrope. It’s easy to fall at any moment if you lose your concentration. So you learn to stay sharp.”
“And what happens if you fall?”
She’d meant fall off the pedestal he’d worked so hard to keep himself on, but when he met her eyes something shifted in the air. “I don’t know,” he murmured, and suddenly it didn’t feel like they were talking about baseball anymore.
She swallowed, looking away from the sudden heat in his eyes, and her gaze landed on the baby monitor. “I should get Sofie home.”
It was obvious she was grasping for excuses, running like a coward, but Cam let her get away with it. He straightened from his boneless lean against the table and jerked his chin toward the pile of presents she’d gathered up. “I can bring those over to you tomorrow so you don’t have to mess with them tonight.”
“Great. That’d be great. Thanks.” Everything had been so easy a few minutes ago, but now awkwardness was wriggling and creeping beneath her skin.
She turned and led the way up the stairs to the room where Sofie slept. She looked so peaceful Rachel hesitated to disturb her, but if she stayed she knew she would do something she would regret.
Cam lifted Sofie, who stayed boneless and limp, onto his shoulder. He wordlessly followed Rachel to the front door.
She was suddenly self-conscious of her fuzzy Christmas tree socks as she slid her feet into her boots. Too aware of her arms as she shoved them into the sleeves of her coat. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore. Too heavy and too awkward.
She turned to Cam, ready to relieve him of Sofie, but he wasn’t looking at her. His head was tipped up, staring at something on the ceiling. Rachel followed his gaze and felt her face begin to heat.
Mistletoe. Of course.
She lowered her gaze from the treacherous plant. Cam was watching her now, a gleam in his eyes. She narrowed hers. “Did you plan this?”
“Me?” He kept his protestation of innocence as quiet as she’d kept her question, both of them whispering to avoid disturbing the baby. “I’m the spontaneous one, remember? You’re the planner.”
For a second she actually thought he was telling the truth, that he’d been entirely unaware of the mistletoe over his entryway—his sisters had helped him decorate, after all—but then she caught the glint in his eye. “You’re impossible.”
His eyes softened as he stepped toward her, Sofie still zonked out on his shoulder. “Are you going to flaunt tradition?”
“Cam…” He leaned closer—and she stopped him with a hand on his chest, ducking her chin. He instantly went still beneath her hand, not pushing. “For two years I’ve been telling myself I was wrong to fall for you,” she whispered to his sternum.
Cam’s chest rose beneath her splayed hand as he inhaled. “There’s always going to be a risk, Rachel. There’s always going to be a possibility things will go south. But you don’t let the fear of striking out stop you from stepping into the batter’s box.”
“I do,” she whispered. “I always have. Except with you.”
“Then maybe it’s time to get back in the game.”
She lifted her chin. Her eyes were the last thing she raised, shielded by her lashes until the last moment when she looked up at him—and knew this kiss would have nothing to do with the mistletoe, and everything to do with how much she’d missed him.
She’d hated herself for missing him. Kicked herself for the piece of her that hadn’t been able to let him go. But now she curled her fingers in his shirt, tugging him closer, and his lips quirked up in that cocky grin and that longing inside her she’d been trying to smother came back to life.
God, she’d missed him.
His lips touched hers. Soft. Lingering. A sweet, stretching taffy moment that was all anticipation and hope. Once. Then again.
The third kiss settled in for a nice long visit, their lips reacquainting themselves with one another after far too long. It wasn’t heat and passion and momentum—it would have been easier if it was. This was something else. Not just chemistry. Emotion. Things she’d told herself she wasn’t going to let herself feel for him again.
After several more minutes than she should have allowed herself, Rach
el ducked her chin, breaking the kiss. Her face had grown hot, her breath quick. They still stood like statues beneath the mistletoe, her hand gripping his shirt, his loosely cupping her elbow while his other arm supported their daughter— Sofie still passed out hard on his shoulder.
“I should go,” she whispered without looking up.
His fingers flexed on her elbow, but other than that he remained motionless. “You could stay.” His already gravelly voice was even deeper than usual.
Still looking down, Rachel shook her head, just once, side-to-side, and Cam’s hand fell away. She forced herself to release his shirt, pulling her hand back and hugging it against her stomach.
“It’s okay,” his rough voice assured her. “We’ve got time.”
Except it didn’t feel like they did. The Russell House fundraiser was in less than a week. Then Christmas, a few days later. New Year’s…January...then she would blink and he’d be leaving for Spring Training.
She couldn’t let herself fall for him again. For Sofie’s sake. She had to be smart.
But what if this could work? A little voice whispered beneath cold hard logic. What if being with him is the smart thing? They could live happily-ever-after. Sofie could have both her parents together. This could be forever.
But she couldn’t let herself trust that. Not yet. So she took her daughter from his arms and headed home.
Chapter Eighteen
He had time. Cam kept repeating that to himself over and over again.
Don’t push this. Don’t rush. You have time.
But he’d never been good at letting up.
He pushed. He worked at things harder than anyone else. That was how a kid who’d gotten cut from his high school baseball team had made it to the majors. But he couldn’t push Rachel. He didn’t want to screw this up. So he needed to learn some patience. Even if it was the last thing he wanted to do.
Things had been good the last week. Not as good as he’d like them to be, but good.