“I don’t think you would. I’ve gotten to know you, Jake McKinney. And you? You’re built on integrity. I think you’d tell them to fuck themselves.”
A sudden snicker catches in my throat, a lopsided grin breaking through my serious expression.
“Yeah. Probably. But then I’d beat myself up for months for blowing my shot. Hell, maybe years.”
“Well,” Campbell says, a spark of pure rebellious mischief squinting her eyes as she pulls a document out of the folder under her laptop. “You should read the last line in my resignation letter.”
She hands it to me, and I scan past the formal legal paragraphs, skipping down to the very bottom of the page where her words turn cold and personal.
And this part is for my father, Eric Hines. You may be one hell of a lawyer, but you’re a real shit of a dad.
A deep chuckle reverberates in my chest, and my lopsided smirk spreads across my face until it evens out. I toss the paper onto the hood of my truck, then take the folder and laptop from her hands, setting them on top of her resignation letter. I pull her flush against my body, burying my face in her hair before tilting her chin up for a deep, lingering kiss that tastes like a promise.
When our lips part, I lower my forehead to hers, my eyesshut as I simply live in the moment. My hands rest on her hips as hers gather the front of my shirt in a tight grip.
“You want to go grab some late dinner at Earl’s?” I ask.
Campbell’s body quivers with a quiet laugh.
“Only if there’s dancing.”
EIGHTEEN
CAMPBELL
Postgame at Earl’s is definitely a new level. I don’t know why I equated late-night dinner withquietdinner, 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.
