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Authors: Elley Arden

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BOOK: Running Interference
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“Yeah, but then I thought about it, and I thought it would be better if it was just you and me.” She stood from a crouch at the bottom cupboard and glanced at Cam. She must've seen Jace holding onto him, because she closed her eyes briefly and then said, “Maybe I was wrong. I don't know. I'm just trying to do what's best.”

If he had to guess he'd say “best” was whatever resulted in the least amount of strings.

“I can't stay long,” he said to the kid.

When Tanya returned to the living room with a bowl full of popcorn, she didn't squeeze onto the couch beside him. She sat cross-legged on the floor and manned the television.

Ten minutes into a re-run of
Cops
, Jace left to use the bathroom.

Cam tapped her on the shoulder. “Hey, just so you know I wasn't going to answer that question in a way that would've trashed your brother.”

She nodded, but didn't look at him. “When were you going to tell me you only came home to convince your mother to leave?”

Shit.
She'd heard that part, too. Probably not the best context to hear it in either. Tanya was fiercely protective of this neighborhood. “Well, I haven't actually told her yet. I only told Jace because I thought it might make him feel better.”

She looked at him and rolled her eyes. Before she could blast him, Jace returned.

Cam had said he wasn't going to stay long, but at 1:00 a.m., he was still there. Jace was curled up on the couch with his feet on Cam's lap, and Tanya was stretched out on the floor. The last half of
X-Men
flickered in the darkened room, and Cam had to fight off sleep. Now, he should definitely go. From the snoring sounds beside him, Jace wouldn't even know. But, he couldn't bring himself to get up and walk out without clearing the air between him and Tanya. Not after her earlier admission. He'd hurt her once. He wouldn't hurt her again.

He lifted the boy's feet, set them gently behind him, and slid off the couch. The minute he landed beside Tanya, her eyes opened.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered.

He rolled onto his side and faced her. “Anything.”

“Why do you hate it here so much?”

“It's not that I hate it here, it's just … ”

“That it's better in Boston.”

Sounded reasonable. He nodded.

“That's the easy answer. You've been trying to get out of Cleveland since the day we met. I used to think it had something to do with your father.”

He tensed.

“'Cause you know if it did, it would make sense. The idea that Cleveland wasn't good enough for him to stick around, so it wasn't good enough for you either.”

Hardly. “Cleveland didn't draft me. That's all there is to it.”

She stared at him long enough to make him doubt his own words. Cleveland hadn't needed a wide receiver in the first round. If they had, he would've been praying they passed on him. Why?
Because they sucked, man.
Nobody wanted to play for a losing team.

But maybe there was more to it.

“All there is to it, huh? So are you moving your mom to Boston because your grown ass really needs her there, or because then you wouldn't have to feel guilty about never coming back here?” She blasted him with those eyes.

“T, what do you want from me? I thought it was no strings. If that's it, then me leaving town and being scarce seems to be honoring your request.”

She blinked, rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

He lay there, listening to her breathing, and when she didn't say anything, he slid a hand over her belly and watched the muscles in her long neck tense. “Just because I move my mother to Boston doesn't mean we have to lose touch again. It won't happen. I promise you.”

Her exhale echoed in the quiet, and then her hand rested on top of his. She looked at him. “I feel absolutely crazy for wanting this.” Her other hand landed on his thigh and climbed until her fingers brushed his fly.

Crazy was the operative word. Messing around like this with a kid on the couch and all this chaos between them. But the chemistry was even crazier than that, and he didn't want to resist.

When he propped up on his elbow to move in for a kiss, a ruckus sounded at the opposite end of the room. He bolted into a sitting position just in time to see Jillian flip on the lights and say, “What the f … ”

“Shh!” Tanya jumped up, but it was too late.

Jace sat up too.

Jillian's eyes widened. “Why didn't you tell me you were having movie night? I would've come straight home after the gym. Looks
cozy
.”

Tanya shook her head. “It wasn't planned.”

“I'm spending the night,” Jace said.

“And I'm leaving.” Cam held out a fist for a bump from Jace before he grabbed his coat off the back of a kitchen chair. “Thanks for letting me hang with you guys.”

Jillian bobbed her brows as he passed. “Are you coming to practice tomorrow night?”

He glanced at Tanya. “I don't know. You might need a break from me.” Hell, after she had a chance to sleep on all of this she might want to rescind their deal.

She turned away, fiddling with the remote for the DVD player. “It's up to you.”

He'd think about it. He'd think about
all
of it. Now that he knew how much he'd hurt her, he wouldn't hurt her again. So, he was going let her call the shots from now on.

• • •

“I walked in on what exactly?” Jillian asked after Jace had fallen back asleep.

Tanya crossed her arms atop the kitchen table and laid her head in the crook of her arm. “
X-Men
.”

“You know what I was talking about, smart ass. How did you and Cam end up here instead of at the gym like you originally planned?”

She propped her chin on the back of her hand. “I was going to have sex with him.”

Jillian whooped, but cut off the shrill sound with a slap of her hand. They both looked at the couch for movement. Nothing. How could anybody sleep through that?

“Girl,
I
knew you were going to hit that, but MJ is going to freak. She doesn't trust him. She says he's just going to leave you hurt again.”

“She's partially right. He is going leave, and he's probably not going to call or text after a certain point. But, I'm not going to be hurt by it, because I'm going to expect it. I'm going to take what I want while he's here, and I'm going to quit worrying about the past or the future. Just deal with the now, which means fix the mess at the gym.” She blew out a breath. “Was it busy down there?”

“Packed. We watched some guy sell the shirt off his back because Cam had signed it. Seriously. He whipped it off, took a hundo from another guy and went back to lifting—shirtless. I was so not complaining. Remind me to have Cam sign some shirts.”

Tanya tapped the table as her mental wheels turned. “You're onto something. What if we had T-shirts printed up that said something funny like ‘I kicked Super Bowl MVP Cam Simmon's ass,' on the front, and then ‘at Pop's Gym & Ring' with the address and phone number on the back? We could have Cam sign a select number of those.”

“I love it! I get screen printing done for the rock bands I promote, so I have some connections. We can get them made on the cheap.”

Tanya jumped out of her chair and paced the kitchen. “That guy paid $100 for a sweaty old T-shirt with Cam's signature. Surely people would pay at least $100 for clean ones. If we sell 100, that's ten grand—a third of the way there.”

“I'll make some calls first thing in the morning, and get you prices by lunch.”

“And I'll call Cam to make sure his right hand is ready.”

Jillian bobbed her brows and grinned. “Nothing wrong with a little mutual masturbation.”

Tanya snorted. “That's not what I meant.”

“But now you'll be dreaming about it all night, and ripping his clothes off the next time you're together. It's mental foreplay. You can thank me later.”

She didn't need the encouragement. Now that she'd decided to have no-strings-attached sex with Cam, it was going to be all she thought about…until they did it.

Talk about expectations.

• • •

The next morning, Cam perked a pot of coffee, made his mother's favorite ham and cheese omelet, and waited for her to wake. If last night had taught him anything it was the power of being honest, of saying what you wanted. And he wanted her to move to Boston.

He exhaled. Of course, she would probably ask “why,” and she would never take his offer seriously if his answer was flimsy. Tanya had asked if it was because he needed her there. He did … but when he thought about how he'd only flown her in to see a few games and spent just that one extended weekend with her at the beach each off-season, it didn't seem to back up the claim. If he needed her, then why hadn't he spent more time with her over the years?

What was the real reason it was so important to get her to leave?

He looked around the beat-up kitchen. He just wanted her to have a better life. Truth.

“Baby?” She stood in the doorway, cinching a worn terrycloth robe with a belt that didn't even match. “I thought I smelled eggs.” She smiled. “What are you up to?”

“You've been working so much I thought it would be nice.”

She kissed him on the cheek and accepted the hot cup of coffee he offered. “You're so sweet.” She yawned the words.

He didn't understand why she worked so much. Heck, he didn't understand why she worked at all. He had enough for both of them.

“What time did you get off?” he asked. She hadn't been home when he'd rolled in around 1:15. He must've hit the pillow hard, because he'd never heard her come in.

“Two. Not so bad.”

Bad enough to make him want to jump right in with, “I'm moving you to Boston.” But instead, he set a plate on the table and pulled out her chair.
Pace yourself.
“I'm going to pamper you on your day off, shopping, the spa, get your hair done, and then you can get into bed early. How's that sound?”

The wall phone rang.
Wall phone.
He shook his head as she got up to answer it. This whole house was like stepping back in time. Another reason she would be better off in Boston, where he would buy her a new construction with all the bells and whistles, and not a wall phone in sight.

She held the receiver between her chin and her shoulder while she stirred cream into her coffee. “Uh huh … Oh.” Concern of some kind worried her brow as she listened to whomever was on the telephone. Probably one of her sisters.

That mug she was holding. He kind of zoned out while he was staring at it. A Dollar Store purchase he'd made as part of her Christmas present back when he'd been in high school.
Mom Rules.
Because that's what she'd always said. Only now one hump of the lowercase “m” and the entire “s” had worn away.
Mon Rule.
It made him sad.

“I'll be there,” she said, and then she returned the phone to the wall and faced him. “Baby, I'm so sorry. I have to take a rain check on the pampering. Next week. Okay?”

“Why next week? Who was that?”

“Work. I have to go in.”

He looked at the owl clock above the sink. “Are you kidding me? When?”

“Ten.”

“It's eight! This is ridiculous. How much sleep did you even get last night? You look exhausted.”

“I'm fine.”

“You've slept like eight hours in two days, and you haven't had a day off in over a week. Call them back and tell them to find someone else.”

She tilted her head and sighed. “The hospice is short-staffed with nurses. There isn't anyone else.”

He growled. “Their being shorthanded isn't your problem. You don't have any problems. You have me.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. “I have money—lots of it. I have connections, too. I can get you a better job. You need to come to Boston with me. Let me take care of you.”

Her eyes glistened, and a slow but sad smile spread across her face. “You're a good boy, Cameron. Always have been. But it's never been my goal to have you—or any man—take care of me.” She patted his cheek. “Now, I have to take a shower and get ready for work.”

For a minute, he stood there stunned. How could she look so miserable but refuse his offer to help?

“Hey!” He followed her. “It's not like I'd be taking care of you forever.” Although he would if she'd let him. “Just let me help you get on your feet someplace where you'll be happier.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs and looked down at him. One hand on the railing, the other on her hip, he felt infinitely smaller than her and like a kid again. “I'm happy here. My job matters.” She glanced at the crooked pictures climbing the wall beside her. “My family and friends matter. Three-hundred-plus days a year I'm happy here. You just aren't around to see it.”

The zing hurt, but he had a feeling she wasn't saying the whole truth. Whether he was here or not, she still spent too many hours as a hospice nurse, and when she wasn't at work, she was in a house she refused to update in a neighborhood that was rundown, dealing with her sisters' dramas.

“It's just so damn depressing!” he yelled. “Why would anybody want to live like this?”

She sort of swayed like the words packed a punch, and he hung his head in shame. “I'm sorry,” he said. Frustrated or not, he shouldn't have raised his voice.

When he looked up again, she was gone.

Nice going, idiot.
He started up the stairs after her, but then decided to give her space. On his way down, he stopped to straighten his baby picture. He shook his head at the goofy jumper he'd been wearing. Fluffy rabbits on mint green fabric. If he ever had a son, he'd never dress him like that. If he ever had a son …

BOOK: Running Interference
12.63Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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