Breakaway, page 4
part #5 of Northbrook Hockey Elite Series
“Oh, wow,” Paige said. “This is the perfect view.”
Camila looked up at the television that seemed too much at an angle to really enjoy the basketball game that was on.
“Not the TV, silly,” Paige said, then tilted her chin. “The Chargers.”
Sure enough, their table had a perfect view of the table full of pro-hockey players. And they were getting a lot of attention from the restaurant patrons as well. A few had formed a line and were getting autographs on shirts, hats, arms, you name it.
The players were taking up about four tables that had been pushed together, and it looked like most of them were already finishing up their first round of beers.
Camila tried not to notice that Declan wasn’t drinking. Unless he was starting out with water? It was a small thing to wonder about, but something interesting, to say the least. Of course it was early afternoon, so maybe it was just the time of day.
Camila let her gaze stray over the rest of the players. Hammer was chatting it up with a young woman who looked like she’d be perfectly happy sitting on his lap then and there. Runt was on his phone. Loop was saying something to Declan, although Declan didn’t appear to be paying much attention. The other players were either chatting or signing autographs.
“Tell me their names,” Paige said after the waiter took their drink orders.
So Camila proceeded to tell her the names of the eight guys. “A few aren’t here,” she said.
“Ah, the blond guy looks familiar,” Paige said.
“That’s Hammer,” Camila said, unable to hide the disdain from her tone.
“You don’t like him?”
“He’s cocky,” Camila said. “And not in a good way.”
“So, a jerk?”
Camila nodded and took a sip of the water the waiter had brought her.
“And the dark-haired guy in the black shirt?” Paige asked.
Camila knew exactly who she was referring to. “Declan Rivera. They call him Dice.”
“The nicknames are hard to keep track of,” Paige said with a laugh. Then she lowered her voice. “Why does Dice keep looking at you, hon?”
“What?” Camila said, unable to stop herself from glancing at him. Declan was studying something on his phone. “He’s not looking at me.”
“Oh, he is,” Paige said. “He’s really good, though. Nonchalant and all that.”
Camila picked up her menu, hoping that Paige wouldn’t notice the flush she felt creeping up her neck. Besides, Paige could be dramatic sometimes, so it was very possible that she was just trying to get a rise out of Camila and that Declan hadn’t even glanced their way once.
Yet her gaze strayed to Declan. Nope. He wasn’t looking at her. Was he? Then he turned his head slightly, and their gazes caught for a lightning second. Camila refocused on her menu, her pulse jumping.
Paige gave a soft laugh. “Told you.”
“Are you ladies ready to order?” Their waiter was back.
While Paige ordered a chicken salad, Camila quickly scanned the menu items, trying to absorb what she was reading. But it was impossible. When it was her turn, she said, “I’ll have the same thing. No dressing, though.” She handed her menu to the waiter, and when he left, she found Paige watching her with an amused gleam in her eyes.
“What?” Camila asked.
Paige’s smile was triumphant. “Nothing.”
“So, how’s the job going?”
“Photo shoots are all the same,” Paige said, brushing off her modeling career. “What I want to remind you of is that we were roommates for two years, and I know that look you get in your eye when you’re interested in someone.”
“There’s no look,” Camila protested.
“Oh, honey,” Paige said. “I just hope he deserves you.”
Camila took a sip from her water and brushed off the comment. Paige hadn’t said the word Stephen, but they both knew how much he’d hurt her. Stephen had played for the Seattle Blacks, and he’d been sweet and charming at first. When things became more serious between them, he had started to pressure her to get her dad to take on his contract so he could transfer to Denver.
She hadn’t at first, but then Stephen started guilt-tripping her. So she brought it up to her dad once on the phone. He laughed at her, then told her that Stephen was washed up and had at best a couple of years left in him. Not exactly the message she could pass on to her boyfriend. Stephen had found out anyway, and that was when things got ugly. He’d started making it clear he was checking out other women when they were together.
Their relationship had ended, and Camila had quit her job.
Relocating to Denver was a whole other matter. It had been one of the rare compassionate moments of her dad when he offered her the job.
She’d been hesitant about returning to her hometown and working with her dad. She hadn’t been close to him since his remarriage. And Camila couldn’t stand his new wife, Angela. Selfishness gravitated to selfishness.
Camila could spot the trait a mile away because that was who she’d once been. Something that she wanted to leave far, far in her past.
“Uh-oh,” Paige murmured.
Camila looked at her friend. “What?”
“One of your hockey players is coming to our table.”
Every single one of Declan’s senses went on alert as he watched Hammer saunter over to the table where Camila Brandon was sitting with another woman. First of all, Declan couldn’t explain his relief when he’d seen her walk in with a woman. Camila wasn’t on a date after all, it seemed. Not with a man, anyway. And he was pretty sure she was straight because, yes, he’d googled more about Camila, and found more pictures. A series of them seemed to be with a boyfriend, although he wasn’t named, but the dates were all from over a year ago.
Did that mean she was single now? And why was he even trying to figure out such a thing?
Hammer stopped at the women’s table, and Declan couldn’t see his expression. But the wide gestures of his hands told Declan that the guy was inviting the women over.
Camila shook her head, which probably meant she was turning him down flat. A bubble of pride rose in Declan’s chest. Her friend was all smiles, though. She was a pretty redhead, and confidence oozed from her. She was decked out in St. Patrick’s Day colors, which told Declan that she was very into the holiday.
She was also grinning up at Hammer. And standing. And pulling Camila along with her. And . . . they were coming over.
“Hey, everyone,” Hammer said, his face too flushed for Declan’s liking, as if the guy had just won some sort of major prize. “You all know Camila, our lovely social media dictator, and this is her friend . . . Paige?”
“Yep,” Paige said, beaming at Hammer.
Chairs were already being shifted, and Hammer added two more chairs to his end of the table. Declan watched the adjustments being made. Camila smiled at something Paige said, but otherwise she remained quiet as Paige took over the conversation.
She told them all how she knew nothing about hockey, but her fiancé was going to be so jealous that she was sitting with Chargers players.
“Dang, you’re engaged?” Hammer asked, a dumb grin on his face.
“Yeah,” Paige said with a giggle.
“Serious, then?”
“Well, he did give me a ring.” The woman waved her left hand, and sure enough, a giant diamond ring glittered.
The guys at the table laughed at Hammer’s expression.
“Nice ring,” Hammer said, then took a long swallow of his beer. “Oh, and Camila, thanks for the email. I appreciate the advice.”
Interesting that her skin flushed. And interesting that she was drinking water, whereas her friend Paige was drinking a martini.
“I sent everyone an email earlier,” Camila said to the table at large. “Just some general maintenance, although we’re mostly on the same page.”
A couple of the guys groaned, and most of them pulled up their emails on their phones. Declan didn’t. He’d already read the email she’d sent not half an hour ago. Yeah, he was feeling a bit guilty about being late to the parade, as much as he hated parades in the first place.
“And I really appreciate those who are reading their emails on a timely basis and following my guidelines.” Her gaze settled on Declan, then moved on a second later.
But in that gaze, he’d sensed the knowledge in the eyes he knew were green. She knew he’d been late because he hadn’t read her email. Guilty as charged.
“I’m always happy to help,” Hammer said. “Just say the word, and I’m your man.”
“Thanks,” Camila said, but her smile was tight.
And Declan was suddenly grateful that Paige was sitting between the two. Speaking of emails, his phone pinged with an alert. The moving company had responded to his inquiry. Ignoring the rest of the banter that had shifted to their upcoming game tomorrow, and Camila’s ideas for everyone posting a picture from the parade today, Declan read through the email.
The moving company could relocate the cat for a hefty fee. It was no problem, though. His mom could fly to Denver, the cat would arrive a day later, and all would be well, right? He forwarded the email to his mom, then sent her a text to read the email. Yeah . . . she wasn’t too well versed in technology either, and Declan had to call or text to let her know that he’d emailed her.
His phone dinged again. Diesel had commented on his latest Instagram post. Not that he had a lot. Two, total, in fact.
“What are you grimacing about?” Loop asked.
“These dang alerts,” Declan said. “How do I turn them off?”
“Let me see,” Loop said, taking the phone. He opened the settings app, and two seconds later, he said, “Done.”
“Wait, what did you do?” Declan asked, staring at his phone.
Runt laughed from across the table. “Just ask any eight-year-old in here to give you a tutorial of how to use your phone.”
“Or Instagram,” Loop said. “I mean, you have two posts. Total.” He held up his phone, opened to Declan’s Instagram page, as if to prove his point.
Declan scoffed. “Some of us have more important things to do.”
“Oh, don’t let Camila Brandon hear you say that.”
“Say what?” she said from way down at the other end of the tables.
And, yep, she was now focused on him. Why she always wore a ball cap, he didn’t know. It prevented him from seeing her eyes and what she might be thinking behind that calm exterior of hers. An exterior that she kept clothed in an oversized jacket today. It was like she was hiding again.
Before Declan could say a word, Runt jumped in. “Oh, Dice is just struggling with the team’s vision of being approachable on social media.”
“I’ve posted.”
“How many times?” Hammer asked, fiddling with his phone.
Okay, this didn’t need to be an all-out interrogation.
“Twice,” Declan said. “But to be fair, this campaign has only gone on for a few days.”
“You mean two weeks?” Loop said.
Everyone laughed. And to his surprise, Camila stood and walked over to him. She waved for Loop to get out of his seat, and he moved, being the gentleman that he was. Camila sat right next to Declan.
“While we’re waiting for the food, I’m happy to show you a couple of things, since you’re not really into reading my emails.”
“Ooooh,” Runt said, joined in by the other guys.
“I read them,” Declan said.
Camila met his gaze full-on. This close up, beneath the brim of her hat, he caught the green color. She also smelled . . . great. Like something sweet. Not that he could name the scent.
“Which ones have you read?” she asked point-blank.
Thankfully, the conversation around the table had diverted away from him, as Paige asked the guys about their positions on the team.
“I read the one you sent today about replying to the people who make comments on my posts.”
“Well, that’s a start.” Her lips curved.
Was it her lip gloss that smelled like sweet berries? Or was it her shampoo? Maybe a perfume? He wanted to lean in, to investigate. Instead, he drank down half his water.
“Too early for beer?” Camila asked.
Declan set his glass down. “I don’t drink.”
He expected the same reaction he got from everyone: “Are you a Mormon?” or even the bold, “How many days sober?”
Instead, her gaze fell, and she looked down at the table. He watched as she traced the grain of the tabletop with her finger.
He lowered his voice because he didn’t really want anyone else to overhear. “Is something wrong?”
Her finger stopped moving, and she glanced up. “It’s kind of weird how much we have in common.”
Declan had about eighteen ways to argue with that, but just then a group of waiters arrived at their tables. They placed plates of food down in front of the players, and after they figured out that the women had joined them, those meals were brought too.
Declan dug into his food and took a few bites, before noticing that Camila wasn’t eating at all. She’d picked up her fork, but she only turned it in her fingers.
“Not hungry?” he asked.
“They added dressing,” she said.
“You don’t like dressing?”
“I love dressing,” she said. “But I’m on a dumb diet. You know, one of those girl things. Trying to keep the pounds off.”
“No, I don’t know,” Declan said. “I mean, I understand what a diet is, but you don’t need to keep any pounds off.”
She lifted her head to meet his gaze. He wanted to tug off her hat, to see her eyes, to understand why she’d ever even consider dieting.
“Yeah, that’s what everyone always says to my face,” she said in a quiet tone.
Declan blinked. “I don’t know what kind of people you spend your time with, but they’re all idiots if they make you feel like you need to lose a single pound.”
She smiled. And it went straight to his gut.
“Did you just give me a compliment, Declan Rivera?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, as he wondered if fake compliments were a part of her world. He rested his hand on the back of her chair so that he could lean closer without touching her. “Why you’re always hiding under that hat of yours is beyond me, but you shouldn’t let anyone else define who you are or what you should look like. In my book, you’re just fine.”
Her breathing had sped up, and that worried him, because he was pretty sure he was crossing a line here.
“I’ll take just fine any day,” she said, then reached for her own water.
He moved back and eyed the chicken salad she was still ignoring.
“You’re really not going to eat it?”
“No.”
“Why don’t you ask for another one?”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
Another surprise to Declan. Not that he thought it would be a bother, but that someone like Camila Brandon would think twice about returning a plate of food.
“How many calories can the dressing be?” he asked.
“At least three hundred,” she said, pulling up an app on her phone.
An app that apparently tracked calories on food.
“Can’t you make an exception this once?”
Camila shrugged. “It all adds up. Besides, I came over here so that I could get you more active on your social media accounts, not debate my food choices.”
“Fair enough.” Declan moved his phone closer to her. “I replied to some of the comments. See what you think.”
While she picked up his phone and scrolled through the comments, Declan signaled the waiter and ordered a chicken salad. “Can you leave off the dressing?”
“Sure thing, sir,” the waiter said, before taking off to put in the order.
Declan felt Camila’s surprised gaze on him, but he turned his attention to his food, which was quite good.
“You’re kind of bossy, aren’t you?” Camila said.
He paused and glanced over at her. “Why, because I ordered a salad?”
She folded her arms, her eyes narrowing.
“Oh, you think it was for you?” he asked. “As it happens, I don’t eat dressing either.”
Her lips twitched, and then she laughed.
He had to drag his gaze away from her, or he’d be grinning like a fool. He speared a bit of her chicken salad with his fork, then ate a bite. “Nope, this is definitely going back to the kitchen.”
Camila was still smiling as she watched him eat another bite, and then a third.
She pushed the bowl toward him. “Help yourself, Dice.”
“Oh, thanks.” Then he winked at her. Inside, he froze, while on the outside, he tried to act like it hadn’t been a big deal to wink at her. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d winked at a woman, if ever.
He wasn’t even sure when he’d last kissed a woman. Had it really been so long ago that he couldn’t remember? Wait, he’d dated Melanie last summer for a few weeks. But Melanie was certainly no Camila.
Which was probably why he needed to stay focused on the task at hand.
He took his phone back and snapped a picture of a few of the guys. Then he posted that to Instagram with the caption, Eating with the guys after the parade. Happy St. Patrick’s Day, everyone. Hope to see you at tomorrow night’s game.
Before publishing the post, he tilted the screen toward Camila. “What do you think?”
She read through the words with one eyebrow raised. “It’s good. I’m impressed.”
Apparently the day had come when he’d feel a prick of satisfaction on being complimented on an Instagram post. Who would have thought?
He published the post just as the waiter brought Camila’s new salad, placing it in front of Declan. As soon as the waiter left, Declan slid the bowl toward Camila.
“I’m full,” he said.
Her lips curved. “Of course you are.” Then, to his satisfaction, she picked up her fork and started to eat.
