Chapter 9 #2
“Glad to see you survived,” I tease. I then glance over and notice Campbell pushing up his sleeve, revealing a glimpse of ink I’ve never seen before.
It looks like a mountain range, with some kind of symbol overlay, but I’m not sure.
My eyebrows shoot up, and I feel a little hitch inside. Huh. Who knew I was a tattoo girl?
“Well, well, Campbell,” I say, walking over, trying to keep it casual. “I never noticed you had some ink.”
He glances at me, smirking. “Guess I’ll add it to the list of things you didn’t know about me.”
“Clearly,” I tease, leaning closer to inspect. “I like the mountain range, but what’s this one?” I point to the design curling along his forearm.
“Ah, that’s a compass.” He follows my finger with his eyes and pushes his shirtsleeve higher so I can inspect.
“A compass?” I echo, genuinely intrigued. “Is it, like a ‘stay on course’ kind of thing, or did you simply pick out a cool design?”
He shrugs, looking slightly sheepish. “It’s to remind me that I’m always going to be trying to find my direction. Life, goals. Stuff like that.”
I smile softly, brushing my thumb over the edge of the ink. “I’ve always wanted one,” I admit, half to myself, half to him. “Never found anything that felt right.”
Campbell holds my gaze a beat longer than necessary, and I can feel the air between us thicken. There’s a warmth in his eyes that makes my chest flutter, and for a moment, I forget how cold the night air is—or that we’re surrounded by a small crowd of people milling about outside a local bar.
He tilts his head, just slightly, the corner of that grin tugging at his lips again, and my pulse ticks up. “You know,” he murmurs, voice low and smooth, “inspiration comes in funny forms.”
I bite back a smile, leaning just a fraction closer, drawn in by the subtle heat radiating off him. “Funny, huh?” I tease, trying to keep my tone light, even as my stomach twists into a delicious knot.
That’s when he takes a half-step closer so the gap between us shrinks. “Some people don’t even realize it when it finds them.”
I fight to keep my eyes from drifting down to his lips. I think my mind wages an internal war for half a second too long before the spark in my chest flames higher. “Maybe I’m just waiting for it, then,” I say softly, letting the words hang in the night air. “It might have to slap me in the face.”
He chuckles, a low sound that makes my skin prickle. “Could be,” he says, and holds my gaze as if daring me to test it.
There’s that saying, “like a moth to the flame,” and right now it’s on repeat in my head and yelling at the voice that’s telling me I need to walk away.
I give Campbell a quick nod of my head and start to turn, reaching for Elle’s elbow.
“Well, we should get going,” I announce, glancing around the street.
Elle nods quickly, giving Sawyer a fist bump. “I’m ready, you two behave and I’ll see you on the ice in the morning,” she calls out, and falls in step like she’s ready to follow, so I launch into my mini rant, assuming she’s all ears.
“Like I was saying, the gala is going to be a madhouse. I don’t even know how I’m going to keep the board from tearing me apart before the hors d’oeuvres are even served,” I say, gesturing vaguely toward the lights of the nearby venue.
Elle hums sympathetically, “Sounds intense.”
I keep walking, feeling emboldened. “Intense is an understatement. And the media frenzy? Ugh. Someone’s going to spin my every word, every step, and I was happy Gavin would be with me. I need a partner in crime. Someone to make sure I don’t completely humiliate myself in front of the entire city.”
Elle chuckles softly. “Well, I can’t exactly go in your place, but I can offer moral support.”
I grin, pressing on, completely forgetting she’s a step behind.
“Moral support is great, but I need a plus-one—someone to shut down the media spin for once. And, honestly, it’d be nice not to walk into that circus alone.
Especially with Victor sniffing around, probably plotting his seating strategy as we speak—”
Before I can finish, Campbell’s voice cuts in, smooth and low.
“I’ll go with you.”
I whip my head toward him. He’s watching me with that infuriatingly calm expression, the one that makes it impossible to tell if he’s serious. Then the corner of his mouth tips up into that trademark grin of his.
“Are you following us?” I accuse him, not without hoping, a little, that maybe he was.
But when he holds out my scarf, I realize why. “You dropped this.”
“Thanks,” I say sheepishly as I accept it.
“I’ll go with you to the gala,” he repeats.
“You? At the gala?” My pulse jumps. I look around for Elle, hoping she’ll cut in and help me out, but she’s doubled back and talking to Sawyer again for some reason. Great wingman that one is. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Why not?” He shrugs like it’s the simplest solution in the world. “You need a plus-one. I’m offering.”
“It’s tomorrow,” I protest. “And you’d need a suit. Like a tux.”
“A suit?” Campbell’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Like the ones we wear on game day? I think I have it covered.”
This man. My gaze locks with his, and for a moment, the noise and hubbub surrounding us fades into nothing. Those eyes of his, that stare…it can pull me right in like nobody’s business. It’s less a stare and more a full-on abduction. I should probably file a complaint, but here I am, not resisting.
“Campbell.” I press my lips together. He is not going to make this easy. “It’s not that simple.”
“Sure it is.” He flashes a smile that could probably melt the ice off the James River. “One night. I put on a suit, stand next to you, smile for the cameras, and no one bothers you. Consider it part of my job. Team loyalty.”
I open my mouth to protest at the same time Elle and Sawyer walk back over to us.
“I gotta admit,” Sawyer interjects, “we Stocktons look good in suits.”
Campbell looks at his cousin. “I’m going with her to the big gala.”
“Gala?” Sawyer’s eyebrows wiggle. “Ohhhh, nice. You can wear your Armani. I like that one.”
I groan, pinching the bridge of my nose. “This is ridiculous.”
“Shhh!” Elle laughs. “He said Armani and I’m in awe.”
“Boss Lady—” Sawyer begins.
I slice a hand through the air, cutting him off midsentence. “And please, don’t call me Boss Lady. It’s like ‘Boss Girl’ or ‘Girl Boss.’ All terms that should die.”
“Either way, none of it is ridiculous,” Campbell counters, clearly enjoying himself. “In fact, I think ridiculously perfect is what you meant to say.”
The worst part of this whole exchange? Against every ounce of common sense, a tiny part of me is actually considering it.
I shake my head, trying to stay firm. “You don’t understand. This isn’t just some casual dinner. The media’s going to be there, board members, key supporters. People already think I don’t know what I’m doing, and if I show up with one of my players—”
Campbell tilts his head, cutting me off. “Correction: if you show up with your captain.”
Elle claps her hands together. “He’s right. He can talk to all of those people, too, Sutton. It’ll make your job for the night less stressful.”
I narrow my eyes. “That’s not helping.”
“It should,” he says easily. “Because I’d be there to back you up. Show everyone you’ve got the team’s support, inside and out.”
Sawyer whistles low, clearly enjoying this more than he should. “Wow, Campbell. That’s almost…diplomatic.”
Campbell ignores him, his gaze never leaving mine. “One night, Sutton. That’s all.”
“I don’t know.” I stare back into those mesmerizing eyes of his and shake my head. “It’s not really prudent is it?”
“Prudent?” Elle barks, slapping a hand over her mouth. “You uppity Southern woman, you, forget being prudent. You’ll show up with a younger man on your arm. That’s called being a cougar.”
“Now you aren’t helping,” I hiss.
“Sutton, please.” Campbell steps forward and plants himself in front of me, trying not to laugh as hard as Sawyer and Elle are at this minute.
“I’m asking to do this for you, but also for me.
I need it, too. After all of the focus on our players needing to have ‘good’ PR, I figure this will help me lift my profile, while also helping you and the team. ”
“See?” Elle agrees, nodding her head so hard I want to flick it. “He’s right about that. What’s good for the players, is good for the team as a whole.”
“Thanks, Little Miss Know it All,” I manage to say through gritted teeth. Really gritted and already grinding. Oh, my TMJ. My jaw is gonna be on fire when I get up tomorrow morning.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” she responds as sassy as they come, winking. “It’s always a pleasure.”
“Seriously, Sutton,” Campbell presses on. “You don’t owe me anything after. Let me do this.”
The way he says it, so steady and confident, like it’s already decided. That rattles me more than I care to admit. My brain scrambles for every logical reason to shut him down. But logic is no match for Campbell’s grin, the one that promises trouble and salvation all at once.
I glance at Elle, silently begging for backup. She just hides a smile behind her beverage, traitor that she is.
My shoulders sag, the fight draining out of me. “Fine.” The word slips out like a sigh. “Yes. You can be my plus-one.”
Campbell’s grin widens, slow and victorious, like he’s just scored the game-winning goal.
“Yeah? Yes! This is great,” he says. “It’s a date.”
“It’s not a date,” I fire back instantly.
“Sure, it’s not. Of course,” he says, voice rich with amusement. “Whatever you say.”
Sawyer laughs outright, clapping him on the back. Elle just shakes her head, clearly delighted.
And really, why shouldn’t I say yes to this? Gavin’s not coming back this year, Jimmy’s already had his go at running the team and was booted out, so I’m the one left holding the bag, again. Maybe I’m just tired of playing it safe, of being the one who always colors inside the lines.
I’m just a woman, standing under a canopy of twinkling lights in River City, wondering how I let myself get talked into this.