Bonus Content - Outtakes
CAMDEN
When Camden finds out he’s going to be a dad
– Six months before he meets Holly.
“Could you say that again?” I stare at the stranger standing in front of me, the one telling me I need to let her in my house because my baby is bouncing on her bladder, and my world tilts on its fucking axis.
“I have to pee,” the incredibly pregnant, incredibly beautiful, and incredibly unfamiliar woman stares at me with wide eyes, holding her stomach and moving from foot to foot the same way my niece does when she’s gotta go.
“Uhh . . .” I step aside hesitantly but let her in.
What the actual fuck?
Her brown eyes get bigger. “Are you going to tell me where your bathroom is or would you like me to pee on your floor?”
“Down the hall. First door on the right,” I mumble, then watch her go, frozen in place.
She said my baby was bouncing. My baby. She can’t be pregnant with my kid.
I don’t want to be a father. I can’t be.
She’s gotta be wrong. Or looking for money.
She wouldn’t be the first woman who’s tried to con a pro baller into thinking they fathered her kid for the money.
That’s gotta be it.
I’m not the father.
“Camden.” My name is clipped when I look over and find her standing in front of me. “We’ve got to talk.” She runs her hand over her stomach absentmindedly, like she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. And that one motion breaks me out of my shocked stupor.
“Listen, I don’t know who you are or what you think—”
With a hand to my chest, she stops me cold.
“Your win after the Chicago game last year. That bar in the hotel. Tequila. Too much tequila.” She shakes her head with a smile and a laugh that sets my nerves on fire and my stomach churning.
When I don’t answer, don’t so much as fucking blink, she shakes her head and points at me.
“We fucked against your door, and as soon as you were done, you called me an Uber.”
Well . . . shit.
That sounded like me. Not the not remembering thing. I’m not usually the guy who gets drunk, but that night was a bad one. We won the game, but the night. Yeah. That was a loss.
“Do you even remember my name?”
I stare at the gorgeous brunette, with her perfect makeup and perfect hair, still not sold on the fact this is my kid and drag my hands down my face.
“Listen, I’m really sorry, but I don’t know you.
And if this kid is mine . . .” I stare at her stomach.
“Well, I don’t know much about pregnancy, but I know enough to know you’re pretty damn pregnant. Why are you just now telling me this?”
Her dark eyes narrow. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you for months. I’ve left about a million messages with your agent and the team publicist. Messages they obviously never passed on to you.”
I don’t bother telling her it’s their job to vet out con artists. “How did you find me? And why’d you wait?”
“When I didn’t hear back from you, I thought about just getting rid of it, but I missed the window.
I figured I could give it up for adoption, you know, to one of those agencies where the parents would at least pay me because I’m going to need a serious boob job after this.
But seriously, I figured if I was going to let someone buy this kid, I might as well see if you wanted to buy it first. It took some digging, but you weren’t that hard to find.
Sold a house last year and bought this one the same day.
Yeah, you used a lawyer to do it all for you, but it’s still pretty traceable. ”
Holy shit.
She’s serious.
She’s standing in my house, trying to sell me a kid.
A kid that might be mine.
Fuck.
“You still haven’t given me your name,” I growl, fucking pissed as hell.
At her. At life. Again. At myself for not even being sure if she’s serious or not.
“Angelina,” the statuesque brunette tells me, definitely not thrilled with my lack of memory.
“And why should I believe that’s my kid? You show up at my house months after we supposedly got together, and I’m just supposed to believe you?” I push back, letting anger take control, because the fucking fear that’s right there under the surface is definitely enough to drown me if I let it.
A cool anger glints in her eyes before it’s replaced by a new look.
One I recognize from the field.
A look I know well from a lifetime of being an athlete.
She’s got me, and she knows it.
It’s the look you get in your eyes when you know you’re about to win.
“It’s your kid, Camden. I know because I stole the condom.”
She stole the what—?
She pulls a paper from her purse and slaps it against my chest. “I’ll be in town for three days.
Here’s the place where we can get the DNA tested.
Meet me there tomorrow at ten a.m. And be ready.
This is your kid, whether you want to believe it or not, and I’m not keeping it.
So either you pay me or the agency will.
I’m due in three weeks. So you better figure it out soon. ”
I look down at the paper, then watch as she walks to my front door and tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Ten a.m., Camden.”
My skin itches as I lock the door behind her and stare at it.
That’s twelve hours from now.
Fuck this.
I grab my wallet and the keys to my bike.
I can’t stay here.
Christmas Day (Before the first epilogue)
Holly
“Iwish I didn’t have to leave you this morning.” Camden’s warm body pulls me closer in bed before I force myself to push him away.
“It’s just for a few hours, and I promise I have fun Christmas plans for you when you get home.” I lick a line down his neck, loving the feral sound that’s ripped from his throat. “Go, Camden. Win your game, while Sophie and I watch from the box with your sister and Rosie.”
“That jersey better still be on your body when I get home, vixen.”
I look over at the new Monroe jersey he gave me this morning, hanging on the closet door. “With or without the socks?”
Camden pulls me on top of him. “Always with the socks, baby.”
“Such an easy man to please.”
Cole’s First Birthday
Holly
There’s snow in my hair, glitter on my shirt, and what I’m hoping is frosting on my sleeve. So basically, a normal Tuesday in my world.
The kitchen smells like cinnamon and stress as I turn to Emmie and blow my hair out of my face. “Do you think it’s enough?”
Emmie, wearing a sparkly apron that says Bite Me, I’m Baking, points her frosting-covered spatula at me. “You’ve made five dozen sugar cookies, Holly. If you make any more, we’re going to put Sweet Temptations out of business.”
Sophie zooms past us. Pretty brown curls flying around her face as Madden chases behind her, trying to get to her candy cane.
Camden catches our daughter mid-sprint and lifts her high into the air. “You, little elf, are supposed to be napping.”
He’s trying to scowl, but it looks more like a smile.
“No naps. Cookies!” she giggles.
“You heard her,” I agree.
“Cookies,” Emmie echoes.
“Cookies,” Rosie cheers from the other side of the counter.
Hadley slides her finger through the icing, a wicked grin on her face. “I give it ten minutes tops before someone spikes the cider.”
“It’s a baby’s first birthday party, Hades,” Camden warns.
“Bad time to tell you I think Briggs already did that?” Mav asks as he drops a kiss on Emmie’s head.
Camden shakes his head. “Remind me why we’re doing this the week before Christmas?”
“Because our baby boy will never miss a birthday party the way I did, and tonight was the first night we could all get together.” I tell him and kiss his lips. “And because you love me.”
“I do love you.” His hand rests on my small bump. “And I love the fact that the next one won’t be born one week before Christmas.”
“Me too, Grinch. Me too.”
The End.