Page 116 of Already At Risk
“Sure did,” he muttered and then cleared his own throat, like he knew we weren’t sticking to our own rules very well.
Isobadly wanted to say fuck the rules, reach out, and I don’t know, take his hand? Slip beneath his arm? I had no idea what, exactly. But not touching him felt wrong today.
There were so many reasons that wasn’t possible, though. So, we were more careful after that. Once we made it into the stadium, Cameron led the way to our seats, which were somewhere between home and first base, not too many rows up from the field. Chloe should have sat between us; that likely would have been for the best. But I hadn’t been thinking when I filed into the row behind him, and now our legs kept brushing and arms bumping, and I was tryingveryhard not to think about the last time we’d been in close contact.
Heat swirled, heavy in the air, both from the summery evening and the proximity of Cameron Bryant. When I glanced over at him, a crooked smile slipped onto his face, like he was enjoying this entire situation far too much, and I didn’t know what to make of it. His eyes flicked to the hat on my head, which he’d let me borrow, and his lips parted to say something. But a second later, his smile fell, gaze drifting to something over my shoulder.
“Can I help you?”
Cameron’s voice was harsh and hard, and his expression a surprising mix of both as he glared at whoever was behind me. I turned quickly to see a man looking my way from a row in front of us.
“Oh, sorry.” The man laughed shakily, clearly unnerved by Cameron’s intensity as he ran a hand through short, light brownhair. He looked like he could either be a finance bro in his midtwenties or a college frat boy who was coasting on his dad’s credit card. Hard to say for sure. “I was—I just thought I recognized her. Hi.”
He gave a little wave to me, and I felt Cameron’s body grow stiffer beside me. I noticed his hand out of the corner of my eye, how it moved closer to my leg, flexing, like he wanted to curl his fingers over my thigh.
He didn’t, but somehow, I felt the heat of his touch anyway.
I gave the stranger a tight smile. “Hey.”
I hoped that would be it, and the man might turn back around, but instead, he doubled down, readjusting his whole body so he could get a better look at me. “Am I sure I don’t know you?”
“Yeah,” Cameron said flatly. “You’re sure.”
“Idon’t know you,” Chloe muttered beneath her breath as she sank back into her seat, and I had to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
Shaking my head, I cleared my throat. “Sorry, no, I don’t think we’ve met.”
I was trying to be at least alittlepolite. But then his eyes dipped to my cleavage instead of focusing on my face, even though the red tank top I had on was relatively modest, and I didn’t care so much about being polite anymore. Especially because Cameron immediately noticed and leaned forward in his seat, undoubtedly to say something else. So I cut in, “Hope you enjoy the game.”
“You, too.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. And after one more glance my way, he turned back around.
“Weirdo,” Chloe muttered.
“Chloe,” I admonished before glancing at Cameron to find him stewing, his eyes still on the back of the man’s head while his jaw clenched and unclenched.
“What’s in the bag?” I asked, trying to distract him. I pointed at a plain canvas bag that I’d been wondering aboutsince we got out of the car earlier and he’d swung it over his shoulder.
Cameron released a pent-up sigh and relaxed back into his seat, shrugging. “Just a few things.” He put it between his legs and pulled a baseball glove out. “My dad always brought a glove to games for me. I wasn’t sure if Chloe would want one. We’re in foul ball range, so you never know.”
He shrugged again, slightly sheepish and downright adorable. It was the least confident I’d ever seen this man look, and it was all because he wasn’t sure if my daughter would be interested in a tradition he’d had with his dad. My lips spread into a smile as I took the glove from him and passed it to Chloe, who immediately responded with a resounding “Cool!” and thrust her hand into it unsuccessfully. Cameron leaned over my lap to try to help her, and I tried not to breathe in his sandalwood cologne too deeply. It swirled around me, reminding me of moments I couldn’t think about right now.
“And I brought this for you,” he said after spending a few minutes with the glove and returning to his Mary Poppins bag, pulling out the last thing I expected to see: a ball of yarn and crochet hooks.
“Cameron,” I laughed. “Why?”
“I know you like to keep your hands busy. I didn’t want you getting bored.” He smiled, but it was, once again, a little shy. “I can just put it back in the bag if you don’t want it. It’s not a big deal.”
“No, no.” I grabbed for the yarn, plopping it in my lap. “As long as you’re not embarrassed to be sitting with the strange lady who crochets at a baseball game.”
He was quiet, and I looked up from the yarn to see his eyes trained solely on me, his expression suddenly serious.
“I can’t imagine ever being embarrassed to be with you.”
He had the ability to disarm me so easily it should be concerning. At one point, in that pub in the hours after midnight, itwasconcerning. But now? Now, it was something else.
“This was sweet of you,” I said softly. “Thank you.”
Cameron nodded, stared at me for a long moment, and then let out a shuddering sigh that I felt in my bones—something that was tangled with longing, the same I felt whenever I looked at him and couldn’t touch him.
