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.
NINETEEN
JAKE
The truck ride to my mom’s is quiet, but it’s the good kind of quiet. I keep one hand on the steering wheel and the other wrapped around Campbell’s, resting our laced fingers on the center console. I like the way our hands look together. The way they feel. Everything is so easy and natural.
Since Kevin has been out of town for the rest of the homestand, Campbell finished up her duties, working the last two games and enduring the teasing of my teammates who now believe I got the good press I did because I’m shagging the comms director. I may have fed that rumor a bit by being cagey in my responses. Everyone will know the truth soon enough, though. They’ll get the notice this week that Campbell doesn’t work for the team anymore. Not that Kevin didn’t try to keep her. His email landed in her inbox this morning when she woke up in my bed. He said he was blindsided and didn’t understand, begged her to at least sit down with him this week to talk it out. Campbell hasn’t responded yet because, like me, she’s hesitant to trust theman who literally traded his hometown for a retirement check.
Despite the firepit of emotions I know for a fact we’re walking into—thanks to my aunt, who has only one level when it comes to defending her family and hometown—Campbell looks completely composed. She stares out at the vivid pink and orange sky. I’m sure she can feel the tension rolling off me in waves. There’s a large, protective knot tightening in my chest. I know my family. And I know my neighbors. I know how they get when they feel cornered, and right now, they feel like the whole world is trying to bulldoze their lives.
I pull up to the top of the driveway, next to my father’s truck, and rush to the passenger side to take Campbell’s hand when she exits my truck. As we walk into the back yard, the smell of Daisy’s incredible spread—smoked brisket, grilled corn, baked beans, and I swear I smell a sugar rub on something—instantly hits me. The warm, smoky air turns flat-out icy, however, the second Aunt Winnie spots Campbell.
Even though Roddy and Daisy spent the last twenty-four hours prepping her, filling her in, and practically begging her to play nice because Campbell is on our side, my aunt simply can’t help herself. She has restingready-for-a-battleface, and her gaze is trained right on the girl I’m crazy about.
Campbell and I grab plates and line up behind my aunt by the picnic table to scoop up the food, and my attention darts in all directions like secret service protecting the president. I’m waiting for that first domino to fall when Winnie leans over the potato salad, cutting her eyes directly at Campbell, and I’m not quick enough with a distraction.
“Didn’t realize we were catering to Nashville royalty tonight. Hope the brisket isn’t too rustic for a Hines.”
Before I can even open my mouth, Sarah Blackwood stands up at the head of the table. I’ve only seen her a handful of times since she’s been back in town, and I know things over at the Blackwood home are tense. Growing up here, I’m privy to a lot of people’s backstories, and Dale and Sarah Blackwood basically lived separate lives for years. It’s strange seeing her standing here in my mom’s backyard all of a sudden, comfortable in her place and confident in her stride as she gets to her feet and marches over to Campbell.
I don’t think Sarah has been fully looped in on the details of who was showing up tonight, and her eyes narrow as she looks between Winnie and Campbell. I puff my chest, ready to step in the middle of them, but Sarah places a well-manicured hand on my chest and gives me a little nudge that somehow knocks me back a step.
“Hines?” she says. “As in Hines & Associates? The firm trying to flatten everything around here?”
My blood instantly fires up. The skin across my knuckles stretches tight as I prepare to lose my temper and defend Campbell. I take a half-step forward, but before I can let loose, a heavy hand clamps down on my shoulder, stopping me yet again.
This time, it’s Roddy.
“Hold your horses, both of you.”
He steps right past me, putting himself between the table and us. He looks directly at Sarah, then at his sister. His deep voice carries a quiet authority that usually shuts people up.
“Campbell walked away from her job and a massive promotion to help us. She’s the one who tipped us off, andshe brings a lot to the table. Give her a chance to speak before you put her on trial, maybe,hmm?”
The yard goes dead silent. Winnie crosses her arms, but she nods once, reluctantly. My God, I swear we’re a pair of tractors away from having a game of chicken play out in the pasture. My family is something.
And yet somehow, despite the fire pit she’s been thrown into, Campbell doesn’t blink. She takes a breath, steps up to the edge of the picnic table, and sets her plate down. She brushes off her hands, then slips her tote bag from her shoulder, pulling out folder after folder of material she will only tell me she “secured.” My aunt begins flipping through some of the documents, and in less than thirty seconds, Campbell completely commands everyone. She opens her laptop right there next to the brisket, pulling up even more documents she’s compiled over the last forty-eight hours.
Then I watch with a mounting sense of pride as she surgically breaks downSummerhill Executives’corporate structure. She points out hidden legal loopholes in the public land contracts they’re leveraging to pay people pennies and take what they want, showing exactly where they overstepped county zoning laws and where their eminent domain claims are actually fragile or flat-out crap. By the time she finishes explaining how we can legally choke their access roads, Winnie’s arms aren’t simply uncrossed, they’re wrapped around Campbell.
“Look,” Campbell says, her voice steady but laced with a hard edge. “Just because my last name is Hines doesn’t mean I’m on board with the way my father operates. There is a very good reason I strayed from corporate law and went my own way into sports management and PR. I know exactly how he plays, and I know how to stop him.”
Sarah stares at her for a long moment, the suspicion inher eyes melting into a deep, visible respect. Finally, she steps forward and extends her hand.
“Well. It’s a damn good thing you’re on our side, then.”
A well-earned grin stretches across Campbell’s face. Sarah turns to the rest of our small group, which, beyond the three of us, consists of my mom and dad, my aunt, and the Tillmans, whose family has lived in this town longer than the rest of us combined. Sarah’s face softens as she takes a deep breath, her shoulders rolling back as her chin tips up.
