18. Campbell
EIGHTEEN
CAMPBELL
Postgame at Earl’s is definitely a new level. I don’t know why I equated late-night dinner with quiet dinner, but that’s clearly not the scene as we enter the bar and head toward an empty booth near the kitchen door.
The bass line hum of the jukebox melds with the constant chatter in the room, and my head is buzzing already.
I’m not sure if my anxious mind can handle exterior noise right now.
I’m about to second-guess this plan when Jake slides into the booth next to me, his broad shoulder pressing warmth against mine.
Suddenly, my pulse calms, and my lungs fill with a deep breath.
“Did I seriously just walk away from my dream career?” I blink as I stare straight ahead, not really focusing on anything. Jake’s hand lands on my knee, and he gives me a gentle but firm squeeze. My gaze shifts to him.
“We can walk back to the front offices right now, take that letter back. Nobody ever has to know you left it,” he says. I love how sincere his expression is, his eyes soft, mouth a tender smile.
“I emailed it.”
Jake’s mouth falls into an O that he quickly snaps shut before he nods.
“All right then. We’re gonna need to get you a beer.”
He holds up his hand, catching his mom’s attention. She came in to help with the night rush after the game.
Daisy steps up to the side of our table, and the calming expression she wears matches her son’s. He got some of his mother’s best features.
“Can I put an order in for you two?” She’s wearing a McKinney jersey, and I smirk, wondering if she wore that for Jake or his dad.
“You catch his game tonight?” I ask. I watched it on the closed circuit from my office. I was too busy spiraling down the rabbit hole of my father’s involvement with the land deal to get out to the field for the game. And by the time I decided to quit, it was too late to wrangle any of the media.
“Sure did,” Daisy says, squeezing Jake’s chin in her palm.
“Ma, I’m not twelve.” Jake swats her hand away, but there’s a bashful grin inching into his cheeks that says he likes the doting attention more than he lets on.
“How about two burger specials with fries?” Daisy meets my gaze, and I nod. She looks to Jake, and he holds up two fingers.
“Couple beers too.”
Daisy shifts her weight, holding his gaze for a beat.
“It’s gonna be okay, Jake. You know that, right?” I assume they’re talking about the team sale and the land deals.
“Hey, by chance do you have that letter with you? The one Dad got from Grandpa?” Jake glances to me, then back to his mom. “I want to show Campbell. And any chance you have any of that extra info Aunt Winnie dug up?”
Daisy lets out a soft, tired sigh, wiping her hands on her apron. “Oh, honey, I couldn’t pry that research out of Winnie’s hands if my life depended on it. She’s like a dog with a bone right now. And I gave her the letter. Well, more like she took it and won’t give it back.”
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “What kind of information do you mean?”
Daisy sighs as her brow wrinkles with thought.
“I think she’s got some of the land contracts that are public record,” Daisy explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And if I know Roddy’s sister, probably a few that aren’t.”
Before she can elaborate, Roddy steps to her side. He swings his arm around her for a hug, and there’s a moment where it feels like the two of them are about to kiss, but they don’t.
“Mind?” Roddy asks with a nod toward the empty half of the booth.
“Please,” Jake says.
His father slides in, grabbing a menu that Daisy quickly rips from his hand.
“I know what you want,” she says, swatting his hands with the laminated list of burgers and fried foods.
“What if I want something else?” he protests.
Daisy scrutinizes him with a hard glare that quickly proves her point as he sighs and utters, “Yeah, you’re right. Double with cheese.”
Daisy gives his arm a quick pat before heading toward the back kitchen to put our orders in, leaving the three of us at the table. Jake wastes no time catching his dad up.
“A lot of pieces of the puzzle are coming together. We know who’s driving the sale now.”
Roddy cuts his eyes toward Jake, then glances at me, a look of quiet approval on his face. “I commend you for listening before overreacting, son. You’re learning.”
Jake lets out a rolling laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wish I could say I didn’t overreact, but I may have blown my stack just a bit in the parking lot.”
I nudge his ribs with my elbow, cracking a smile. “You think?”
Roddy shakes his head, offering me a sympathetic look. “I apologize for my caveman son, Campbell.”
“Don’t be.” I glance at Jake’s profile, his angular jaw covered in a day’s worth of stubble. “I actually like his passion for his family.”
The two men share a brief, silent look across the table. It’s a quiet exchange, but it warms me from the inside out. I can literally see them mending the fractured pieces of their relationship, brick by brick.
Roddy leans in, and I do the same. I’m not sure why this feels like we’re about to swap secrets, but I scan the nearby tables just to be sure there aren’t any ears eavesdropping. Not that anyone could hear a conversation a table away in this place right now.
“You sure your dad’s firm is pushing this through under the table?”
Roddy’s eyes lock onto mine, and my body rushes with guilt by association. I want to apologize for my father’s lack of empathy and singular focus on the almighty dollar. Instead, though, I nod and mutter, “Yep.”
“You think maybe you could leak some of these filings to the press? Get ahead of the narrative?” He stops himself, his expression tight with a sudden flash of regret. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to suggest you do anything unethical or jeopardize your career.”
A small, liberated smile touches my lips. “Zero ethics crossed, Roddy. I quit tonight.”
I fill him in on my decision to walk away from the Texas VP offer, making a few blunt mentions of how forever disappointed I am in my father’s underhanded tactics. Jake listens quietly for a moment before sliding out of the booth to head to the restroom, leaving Roddy and me alone at the table.
The noise of the bar fades into the background as Roddy looks at me, his eyes filled with a warm but weathered understanding. I wish my own father could look at me like this.
“I know a thing or two about strained relationships with your child, Campbell. And yeah . . . we are always children to our parents, no matter how old we get.” A sudden chuckle rattles in his chest. “My dad is seventy years old, and he still tries to get me in a headlock and wrestle me to the ground every time he sees me.”
I laugh softly, looking down at my hands folded on the table. “Your family sounds nice. Truly. My mom lives in a corporate bubble that only cares about the fancy parties my father’s legal status affords her. And my dad . . . he completely quit seeing me as an individual the day my brother died.”
Roddy’s expression softens. “I’m sorry you lost a sibling. That must be incredibly hard.”
“It’s been a few years,” I say, swallowing down the sudden tightness in my throat. “It was hard. Honestly, sometimes it still is. I went into law strictly to try to fill the empty hole my brother left behind, but my heart just isn’t in it.”
“Is your heart in sports PR?” Roddy asks quietly, one brow raised.
I take a moment, looking out at the neon signs buzzing against the wood-paneled walls. “I thought so. But right now? I’m starting to wonder if I’m better built to fight big businesses trying to take over small towns.”
Roddy cackles, a spark of pride in his eyes.
“In that case, you really should meet my sister Winnie. And Sarah Blackwood—she’s my old high school coach’s wife, and she knows how to handle a megaphone. And an elected official or two. And the press. Actually, she might be your version of a rock star.”
My interest spikes instantly.
“I’m serious, Roddy. I want to help.”
I think, seeing that I’m sincerely invested, Roddy pulls out his phone as he eyes me. “Let me send Winnie a text. Tell her I’ve got someone who wants to jump into the trenches with us.”
He types a quick message, and his phone buzzes almost instantly.
“She says, ‘Great! The more, the merrier.’”
He starts typing a reply, but I quickly place my hand over his screen, stopping his thumbs. “Hold off on telling her it’s me just yet.”
Roddy’s brows furrow.
“Why’s that?”
“Jake told me his aunt is pretty fired up about my dad being involved in this deal,” I explain. “I’d rather ease her into things and earn her trust face-to-face before she sees the Hines name on her phone and she shuts me out.”
Roddy nods slowly, I sense, understanding.
“Smart. Tell you what . . . come over to Daisy’s house for a little backyard BBQ and a planning session Monday night, after the home stand wraps up. We’ll get everyone at the table.”
Jake slides back into the booth just in time to hear the invitation. He looks his dad dead in the eyes, then shifts his gaze to me, a lopsided, curious smirk on his lips.
“What’s this? Are you officially switching teams, Hines?”
I hold his gaze, my heart swelling with a strange sense of purpose I’ve never truly felt before.
“I was never on my father’s team, Jake. I’m on yours.”
Jake’s lips part, a faint smile turning up the corners, and my cheeks warm from what I fear was maybe an overshare.
We haven’t really talked about feelings or what this is beyond, well, some pretty great sex and a magnetic attraction.
But there’s something real here, something I feel every time any piece of his body brushes against mine.
He grounds me. And I think I do the same for him.
Daisy returns to the table, balancing two steaming plates of burgers and fries. As she sets them down, Roddy looks up at her, and I catch the little spark that touches both of their eyes.
“Campbell is going to help us fight,” Roddy shares.
Daisy pauses, a knowing, amused look crossing her face as she glances at me. “Well, we’d better ease Winnie into that idea first.”
We all burst into a collective laugh, the heavy tension from earlier completely evaporating into the warm, familiar atmosphere of the bar.
Jake and I finish our dinner, trading easy conversation with his parents, peppering him with praise for his great game. He’s bright red from the attention at one point, but it doesn’t stop the onslaught of our fandom, which continues until the plates are cleared.
Before I gather my phone and purse from the booth to leave, a slow, melodic country song filters through the bar’s speakers. Jake slides out of the booth, extending his hand to me as he stands.
“Dance with me.”
It isn’t the fast-paced, foot-stomping kind of dance that usually rocks this joint. It’s slow and easy out on the dance floor, and to be honest, I could use a little time in his arms at a slower pace.
I let him lead me to the center of the room, and he pulls me into his frame, wrapping his strong arms securely around my waist as I tuck my head against his chest. We sway to the slow rhythm, his heart beating a steady, reassuring pulse against my cheek.
The rest of the world completely fades away into the shadows of the bar.
He slows his steps, lifting his chin to look down into my eyes, and when his gaze flits to my mouth, I lick my lips in anticipation. Jake leans down and kisses me softly, his mouth warm. His plump bottom lip lingers against mine for a beat before he pulls back just an inch.
“Is this okay?” he whispers.
I nod, wrapping my arms tighter around his neck.
“I don’t work for the Mavericks anymore, McKinney. I don’t see how there’s a conflict of interest of any sort.”
Out by the pool tables in the back corner, a few of his remaining teammates notice us on the floor and let out loud, bold, shrill whistles.
Normally, my body would fire up with heat from embarrassment.
I don’t love attention on myself. I’d rather be the one turning the spotlight on others. But right now? I don’t mind so much.
Without breaking the rhythm of our slow sway, and without ever lifting his eyes from mine, Jake calmly raises his hand and holds up a middle finger to that half of the room. I laugh against him as he leans back down, capturing my lips in a deep, sweeping kiss that definitely shuts everyone up.