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“No, that’s fine. I’ll wait.”
I tell Gracelyn to head over toward the parking lot and Cam and I start walking that direction. He’s hunched forward, shoulders slumping, a marked difference from his earlier confident swagger.
Cam really doesn’t like crowds.
“Crawford? Is it really you? The prodigal son returned home?” a voice booms from behind us and Cam spins around.
“Nash. What’s up?” Cam grins and high-fives, then bro hugs Nash, another high school football buddy.
“Not much. You home for a visit?”
“Sort of a longish visit. I’m in town for the summer, training. What’s good?”
“Everything, brother. Yo, Nate! Look who’s here!” Nash bellows to his twin brother across the field and within minutes Cam’s swarmed by people again. At least this time they’re mostly his friends, so he seems more comfortable.
I lean in, touching his arm. “I’m going to find Gracelyn real quick. I’ll meet you at the car.”
He shoots me a thumbs-up, and I jog away to find Gracelyn.
“Hey, sorry I’m so late.” Grace hugs me, the scent of bleach and her heavy floral perfume kicking me in the nose. “My last client was an hour late, but it didn’t feel right to cancel on her since it was the babysitter’s fault. Anyway—what did I miss? Where’s Cam?” Gracelyn waggles her brows at me before swiveling her head around like an owl, searching for Cam.
“Not much. The usual stuff—Nick draining Mich Ultras like it’s his job, bragging about his boat and his big insurance job. Everyone going wild over Cam and his career.”
“Like that?” Gracelyn grabs my shoulders, spinning me around toward the bonfire. Sure enough, there’s a large group of women gathered around Cam, cell phones out, cameras flashing.
“For fuck’s sake, the guy can’t get a break,” I mutter, feeling guilty for leaving Cam’s side. A tall redhead strokes his forearm, rubbing on him like he’s a genie in a bottle, ready to grant her three X-rated wishes, and my gut twists.
“That snake—” Gracelyn hisses, her fists balled.
“Who is that? I don’t recognize her.”
“Oh, you know her. That’s Jamie Ware, the girl who tripped me in the ninth grade when I was getting on the bus. I splatted face-first in front of Nash and Nate, busted up both my knees. I bled the whole way home, mortified. Bitch,” Gracelyn scowls. “She dyed her hair and her eyebrows finally grew back from the horrendous wax job she got over in Lightning Ridge. You know—because she wouldn’t come to our salon. Said it was ‘too country’ for her.” Gracelyn air quotes the last part, her frown deep.
“Oh, right. Now I remember.” I stare at the scene as shefawns over Cam, inching in closer. She is beautiful and I wouldn’t blame him if he was interested.
He backs away, but she throws her head back, laughing. Then she spreads her hands over his chest, stroking him, and bile rises in my throat.
Nobody should have to endure groping like that, not even a professional football star.
Fire licking inside me, I grab Gracelyn’s elbow and stalk over to the group crowding around Cam.
“Hey, Cam. You ready to go?” I jostle my way in next to him and he visibly relaxes, fingers uncurling at his side.
Jamie glares at me, puffing out her ample chest.
“Oh hey, Sloane. I heard you were back in town, living with your daddy.” Her tone’s saccharine-sweet as she smirks at me with deep red lips.
“I am. I’m kind of between places right now. What have you been up to?” I work hard to infuse the same sweetness into my voice. Damn, the struggle is real.
Jamie flips her long, scarlet hair over her shoulder. “I’ve been away most of the spring. Modeling in Europe.”
Of course she has.
“Awesome. Good on you. Ready, Cam?”
“Yeah.”
I try to drag us out of the uncomfortable conversation, but Gracelyn keeps going, stirring the pot.
