Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
CAMDEN
Me: Baby girl, are you ready for our date this weekend?
Savannah: Feels like this weekend is forever away…but yes.
A wave of affection washes over me. This weekend is tomorrow, but I agree.
Another twenty-four hours without her feels like a lifetime.
All week, while I traveled to colleges around the country to scout our prospects, I counted down the hours.
Hell, the seconds. A whole week without her was torture, but the trip was necessary, since I have a meeting with the rest of management next week, where we’ll discuss our drafting strategy.
As I climb out of my car, I shove my phone into my pocket.
Just gotta make it through one more night of work, then I’m all hers.
I considered inviting her tonight, but in the end, decided it was probably too forward in such a new relationship.
It’s a holiday party—though it’s more like a carnival because the Langfields only know how to throw over-the-top events—and holiday parties are for families. Not for casual dates.
It’d be weird if I brought her, right? Actually, it feels like it would be perfect.
I can vividly imagine draping my arm over her shoulders while we stroll through the winter carnival.
The fake snow that Beckett will somehow have magically falling from the sky will land in her pretty red hair. On the tip of her nose.
Fuck, just thinking of how she’d smile has me pulling out my phone and shooting her another text message.
Me: What are you doing right now?
It’s last minute, but I stop and wait for her response, ready to hop in the car if she’s free. I could pick her up and be back here within the hour.
Would she really come? Am I ridiculous for asking? Maybe. But I don’t give a fuck.
Savannah: Going out with friends. Why?
Disappointment pummels me like a blow to my chest. With a shake of my head, I fight off the stupid emotion. Inviting her would have been absurd.
I type out another quick message, playing it cool. Or at least I hope it sounds cool and not like I’m a forty-six-year-old man desperate to see her.
I am, so it would be accurate, but still.
Me: Just like to know where you are. Have a good night with your friends. Make sure you get your rest. You’ll need it for tomorrow.
Her response is a winking emoji. What the fuck does that even mean?
I don’t have the bandwidth to figure it out, so I shove my phone back into my pocket and lock the car.
The carnival is set up inside Lang Field, and the stadium has been completely transformed into a winter wonderland.
It’s like a Thomas Kinkade painting come to life.
Every surface sparkles. Beneath my feet, fake cobblestones are covered in snow, even though the city has yet to be hit with even an inch of winter precipitation this early in the season.
To my left, kids are throwing snowballs and making snow angels. Of course they are. Beckett Langfield doesn’t half-ass anything.
Toward the back, a Ferris wheel is lit up in red and green lights, and in the middle of the ball field is an oversized Christmas tree that rivals the one at Rockefeller Center, along with a small skating rink, where more kids are skating.
A handful of them are showing off, doing spins. Obviously hockey players’ kids.
Then there’s a row of carnival games, complete with prizes—all of which are high-quality stuffed animals, not the cheap kind typically found at a real carnival. Once again, it screams Langfield.
Food vendors are set up throughout the space, filling the air with the smell of greasy deliciousness and sugary goodness.
There’s a chill in the air, because the one thing Beckett couldn’t control was the weather.
But the crisp temperature only adds to the ambiance.
I’m in a black sweater and a pair of dark jeans, but I may have to play a few games and win myself a scarf.
The longer I stand with the fake snow falling around me, the colder I get.
“This is sick,” Bobby Dean says, popping up from out of nowhere.
“Yeah, the Langfields don’t skimp on anything.”
JJ wanders over, his daughter Avery riding on his shoulders.
Her curly blond hair is mostly hidden beneath a Bolts toque, but her bright smile is on full display. “Hi, Uncle Cam.”
I’ve been Uncle Cam to almost every kid that’s passed through the halls of Bolts Arena, and while I love every freaking one of them, as I look at Avery, note the way she clutches her dad’s head like he’s a damn horse and she’s leading him, an old ache—a stubborn sensation that won’t go away no matter how hard I try to rid myself of it—returns with a vengeance.
There was a time when all I wanted was to find the right person to settle down and start a family with.
When I saw myself as a husband. As a dad.
When I thought I could have a family of my own.
The universe had other plans, though. First, my ex’s affair destroyed me. Then my sister’s disappearance. And then, when I thought I’d finally gotten my life back on track, when I finally had my family back, we lost my father and my mother completely broke.
So I’m forever Uncle Cam. I’ve got a good life. A great one, even. I love my job, and I’m surrounded by friends who treat me like family, along with all their kids. It’s hard not to feel selfish when I allow myself to wish I had more.
But maybe I do have more. Because I’ve found Savannah. Just the thought of her has a smile tugging at my lips. Fuck, I really do like her.
Is that why I’m thinking of kids? She’s young. She has a whole life ahead of her. Marriage. Kids. That could be in the cards for her. For me.
Shit, I’m getting ahead of myself. We haven’t even been on a fucking date, and I’m thinking about putting a baby in her. What the hell is wrong with me?
“Cam?” JJ says, reminding me that I’ve yet to greet him or his daughter.
“Sorry, Ave. How’s my favorite little hockey player?”
With a giggle, she shakes her head, the ends of her blond curls bouncing. “That’s Daddy. I’m just a girl.”
Jaw dropping dramatically, I hold out my arms to her, and when she jumps into them, I pull her in for a hug. “Nah, I heard you’re our future winger. Just gotta get you out on the ice for practice, right, JJ?”
He arches a brow, no doubt thinking I’m ridiculous, but when he notices the big smile on his daughter’s face, his expression melts into one of pure adoration, and he nods. “Whatever my girl wants.”
JJ is an incredible dad. Maybe one of the best I know, and that’s saying something, because I was lucky enough to witness both War and Daniel become dads.
But JJ’s done it pretty much on his own. His wife couldn’t care less about motherhood or her child. It’s hard to watch.
“Can we go on the Ferris wheel, Daddy?” Avery asks, her focus turning quickly like any four-year-old’s would.
“Course,” he says, holding his arms out to her.
I give her one more squeeze and hand her back. “Tabs?” I mouth over her head.
He shakes his head, jaw ticking.
My heart sinks for the little girl, but I plaster on a bright smile. “Find me when you’re done, and I’ll win you a stuffed animal.”
Avery lights up and lets out a squeal, kicking her legs.
Despite bearing the brunt of her excitement, JJ holds her close and smiles. “Thanks.”
“Can Uncle Bobby ride the Ferris wheel too?” our star center asks Avery.
That affection is back and only growing.
The current team is just as close as the team I was part of.
They’re a good group of guys. Maybe a little wild sometimes, but they do okay keeping each other in check, and they’d bend over backward to help one another out.
It’s exactly what JJ needs, considering that Avery travels with the team for now.
Can’t imagine that won’t change next season, though.
She’ll start school, and if Tabitha doesn’t step up and become the mother she needs, I don’t know what JJ will do.
Avery eyes Bobby, then her dad. “I don’t know. What do you think, Daddy? Can Bobby’s ego fit in our cart?”
A roar of laughter bursts out of me. Damn, this kid. This is one of the perks—or maybe it’s a downside—that comes with bringing a four-year-old on the road with a hockey team. She’s got the one-liners down and she doesn’t let the guys get away with anything.
JJ smirks. “Probably not, but we’ll let him come anyway.”
The three of them disappear, and I’m still smiling after them when a hand lands on my arm and squeezes.
The familiar fruity perfume registers before I even turn around. Wincing, I give myself a little pep talk. I gotta play nice, even though I want to tell the woman to get her hand off me.
“Erica,” I say, turning and giving the team photographer an easy smile.
“I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” she says in a flirty tone.
Erica is a very pretty woman. Blond hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw, a button nose, and killer curves.
She’s photographed on the sidelines as often as she does the photographing.
Women are being drafted to the NHL finally, yet the league’s commentators are still misogynistic fools who love to talk about how she will make a great wife for one of the players or staff one day rather than about the incredible shots she takes or the awards she’s won.
She’s never paid the commentators any mind, and I’ve never seen her look at any of the players unless it’s from behind the camera.
But me? She’s made it obvious several times that she’d love to share more than just a drink.
I haven’t gone there. I try really hard not to mix business with pleasure. Nothing has ever mattered more to me than my job. The Bolts are my family, so a few hours of pleasure have never been worth the risk of awkwardness at work.
She’s got a good head on her shoulders, though, and she is excellent at her job, so her advances haven’t been overt or out of line. She’s got a great sense of humor too, so I have spent a few nights in her company in a hotel bar while traveling. But I’ve always turned down her offer for more.
“Can’t miss a Langfield party.”
She grins, her glossy pink lips shiny in the stadium lights. “Ain’t that the truth. And this one is spectacular. I wish I’d brought my camera, because seriously, this is a winter wonderland.” She scans our surroundings, wearing a look of appreciation.
“I’m sure you’ll get some good ones either way. I’ve seen what you can do with your phone’s camera alone,” I say honestly.
She steps closer, her cheeks going pink. “Thanks, Cam. I appreciate that. Want to walk with me while I snap a few pictures? Maybe take a ride on the Ferris wheel?” She splays a hand on my chest and peers up at me through dark lashes.
I’m racking my brain for a gentle way to turn her down when a cool hand lands on my neck and I’m tugged backward.
“Hey, baby,” a sexy, raspy voice says. “Sorry I’m late.”
Chest tightening, I whip around and clutch Savannah’s hand to my chest. “Baby?” I whisper, taking her in.
She breaks into a smile so bright it rivals the stadium lights overhead. “Aren’t you going to give your girlfriend a kiss hello? I missed you.”
Fuck. Girlfriend? My heart somersaults at the word. Never have I wanted a woman to wear that title more than her. And sure, maybe she’s only tossing it around because she’s jealous, but I like it. Possessive Savannah is hot as fuck.
I may be an asshole, but I plan to take full advantage of this opportunity. I’ll show her exactly how I feel about this surprise while making sure Erica knows where my interests lie.
Cuffing her neck, I press my fingers into her pulse point and revel in the way it thrums wildly as I lean close and brush my lips against hers.
“Missed you too, baby girl,” I murmur. Then I take the kiss deeper.
I go all in. Tongue and teeth and so much need that it takes effort not to grind up against her.
Savannah whimpers into my mouth, just as desperate for me, and clings to me, fingers clutching my sweater.
With a low groan, I pull back. If we keep this up, I actually will take this too far. “Thought you had plans with the girls.” Unable to resist, I press one last kiss to her mouth.
She licks her bottom lip, her chest rising and falling. For a second she just stares at me, a dreamy look in her eye. But she quickly shakes her head a little and blinks three times in rapid succession. “Uh, yeah. Apparently the plan was to come here.”
She shrugs like that was a surprise to her, but the little glint in her eye gives me the feeling that isn’t the complete truth. My girl wanted to surprise me. The question is why?
Did she want to test me? Did I pass?
I glance at Erica, who is standing awkwardly a foot away.
Shit. Forgot about her. I wrap an arm around Savannah and tuck her into my side.
Then I make introductions. “Savannah, this is Erica, the team’s photographer.
Erica, this is my girlfriend, Savannah.” At the word girlfriend, I give the woman under my arm a secret little smirk.
She peers back at me, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.
Yeah, she was testing me. She probably didn’t think a world existed in which I would be okay with her being this possessive.
Guess I’ve got my work cut out for me when it comes to showing her just how invested I am.
And, more importantly, that not only is she mine, but that I’m so very okay with being hers.