The Long Game (Long Game, #1)

It was stupid to ask Matthew, but I was trying to prove a point.

Cameron exhaled noisily, his whole body moving with the release of air. The side of his quad pressed against the side of mine. “Adalyn, I—”

My phone pinged.

“There you go,” I said. “Quick. Efficient. Always willing.”

Cameron grumbled something I ignored in favor of reading Matthew’s texts out loud.


MATTHEW: WTF

MATTHEW: EXPLAIN.



I let out a quick celebratory Ha. “See? Now this is exactly the involvement I was looking for. Passion for discussion.”

But then I scrolled down and I…


MATTHEW: Is that who I think it is?

MATTHEW: WHAT IS HE DOING THERE?

MATTHEW: Is this today????

MATTHEW: WTF ADALYN

MATTHEW: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU ARE WITH Cameron Caldani (!!) and you wouldn’t tell ME.

MATTHEW: What is he even doing in NC? What—



I immediately locked my phone.

For good measure, I brought it to my chest. Hid it. How had I—The pictures. Cameron must have been in them. God. My fingers clasped the device even tighter. I didn’t want Cameron to believe I was going around giving away where he was.

I looked over at him, coming up with ways to explain myself, but Cameron was engrossed in my binder. The red one.

I blinked.

Take it as a win, Adalyn.

I shoved my phone into the depths of my bag and cleared my throat. “Yes.” I scooted closer to him. Which I realized was a mistake, because all I could feel and smell was Cameron. I scooted back. “I think we can move on to strategy, good idea.”

“Already on it,” he said without looking at me.

A little passive-aggressive but I’d averted a crisis, so I’d give him that. “How’s that looking?” I asked. “What do you have in mind in terms of game plan? We’re playing against—”

“Rockstone,” he finished for me. “It’s here in your little binder.” It wasn’t little, but I let that go, too. “And my plan is for the kids to point at the right side this time.”

“That’s a good start,” I admitted genuinely. “But we should probably start tracking something more specific. Like training plans for every player to cater to their individual needs.” I stretched a hand over his lap and turned a few pages, getting to the individual cards I’d prepared. “Maybe if we—” I felt the weight of his stare on my profile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Cameron’s head tilted, and when he spoke, thanks to my leaning in over him, his words fell on my temple. “You’ve got a section for me in your binder of hell?”

I did. But filed away in a box in my head. Something else in my head right now? How close his face was to mine. I jerked back. “Don’t speak like that about my binder” was all I could say.

A deep chuckle rumbled off Cameron, as if I was this amusing thing he could poke.

“This is proving very unproductive,” I told him. “Let’s call it a day and go home.”

All amusement vanished, and his shoulders went as far as sinking, even if almost imperceptibly. “Ada, darling,” he said with an exhale.

Ada, darling.

That was new. I’d never been called something like that. It was… musical and beautiful and hearing Cameron say it made me feel strange. Not like being called Addy or Ads did, but different. I decided I wouldn’t like it.

Cameron’s expression shifted again, as if something was dawning, finally making sense. I panicked but then, what had to be his phone rang from his pocket, providing me with an easy out.

Relieved, I watched him reluctantly pull the device out of the front pocket of his jacket and check the screen. He straightened, his demeanor changing instantly. “I need to take this. Excuse me for a minute.”

And just like that, he was swiftly climbing down the stands and I was left there, watching how the muscles in those sculpted calves danced with every stride.

“And I’m doing it again,” I told myself. “Ogling him.”

I exhaled, grabbing the binder from where Cameron had left it and hugging it to myself. I thought back to Matthew’s trail of texts. If I was lucky, he wouldn’t jump on a flight and plant himself on Cameron’s doorstep to get his forehead signed. Or knowing Matthew, his ass cheek. Or—

“Hi!”

The binder was almost startled out of my grasp.

“Oops,” María said. “Did I scare you, Miss Adalyn? I’m sorry. Sometimes I’m too loud.”

I smoothed my expression into what I hoped was a nice smile. “You’re never too loud, María,” I told her, and for some reason, something my mother said came to mind. “And you should never apologize for being loud. Whoever makes you feel that way is the one with sensitive ears.”

She made a face. “That makes a lot of sense.” She nodded slowly. “Was that why you were staring at the back of his head? Were you staring at Coach Camouflage’s ears?”

I sighed. “I was… wondering what conditioner he uses. His hair looks so shiny and bright all the time.”

Her brows knit in the middle of her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever used conditioner. Dad buys all the shower products for the house and Tony helps me out with my hair.” I glanced up at the way her hair was in some lopsided ponytail today. “Maybe I can ask Dad to get me one.”

I looked at the girl who had always treated me differently than everyone else, trying to remember if she had ever mentioned her mother. It wasn’t any of my business, and it would be extremely inappropriate to ask a child about something like that, but there was something about this particular kid that made me want to know.

A teenager emerged around the corner of the stands carrying a plank of wood, distracting me from the thought.

“Oh yeah,” María said, while I gawked at the unexpected sight behind her. “Tony and Dad are working on the supply shed. Remember how we accidentally broke the door and made a mess? Come, I’ll introduce you, Miss Adalyn. They’ll like you, I promise.”

And before I knew what was happening, María was pulling me behind her all the way to where her brother and father were working.

When we reached them, María tugged at my hand and I blurted out a very loud “Hi.”

Tony, a teenage boy that was all legs and arms who had been in the process of placing the plank of wood I’d seen on his shoulder against a workbench, dropped the thing to the ground.

His father cursed.

María chuckled.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out.

“Tony has such sensitive ears,” María quipped.

Tony turned around. “How about you clip it, you little monster—” He spotted me, his face turning cherry red. He seemed to choke. “Oh. Hello, ma’am.”

“Ignore Tony,” María chirped. “He gets like that when girls are around.” The teenager’s eyes widened. “Hey, Dad? This is Miss Adalyn, remember I told you about her?”

The man was already walking around the workbench and taking off a pair of security gloves. “It’s hard to forget,” he said with a smile that immediately reminded me of his daughter. “You’re all she talks about.” He stretched out a hand. “I’m Robbie Vasquez, pleased to finally meet you.”

I took his hand and shook it. “It’s great to meet you, too, Mr. Vasquez.”

A lighthearted laughter rolled off his tongue. “Please, Robbie is all right.” He released my hand and slipped his gloves back on. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a face to the name everyone in town is chattering about. I would have loved to introduce myself during the goat happy hour but there was an emergency at the cow barn.”

María tugged at my hand, and I looked down at her. “Carmen hasn’t been eating. I think she’s sad because Sebastian went missing weeks ago.”

“Carmen the… cow?” I ventured. “And Sebastian the…”

“The rooster,” María offered. “Sebastian Stan, Miss Josie named him. It was my birthday present.”

“That would be them.” Robbie chuckled. “María likes for all the animals we have to be named. But Carmen’s stomach is all right now. Nothing to worry about.”

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