Athica Lane: The Carpino Series (7 page)

This is after we ate dinner, Cam telling and showing me how much he liked it by eating two platefuls.  After we were done and the kids scattered he said, “I’ll give it to you, your cooking makes up for the wiseass and sass.”  But he said it with a sexy smile playing inside his goatee with his blue eyes pinned on me. 

Of course this made me fidget. 

I really need to get that under control.

“It’s a warehouse,” he explains.  “It was abandoned and when I was looking to expand my sports training and conditioning, it fit the bill.  And when I say the bill, I mean the bank account and small business loan.  It was a pit, but all I needed was floor space.  I had to put in locker rooms and an industrial furnace for the winter.  Other than that, I added turf and sports equipment.  I’ve got thirty yards of turf laid, six batting cages and two pitching mounds.  It sits on enough land that we can do conditioning outside in all but the dead of winter.  I’ve had it up and going two years now.  It’s doing okay.”

“You have two full time jobs?” I ask, thinking that’s a lot since he seems to have his kids most of the time.

“I’m not exactly rolling in it being a teacher.  Coaching for the school adds a little, but I needed something on the side,” he says.  “I have trainers and some retired professional players working for me.  They might’ve made it to the big show, but didn’t make it huge and like to teach.  I train a few select teams and players, other than that I manage it.” 

“Who exactly needs all this training?” I ask, wondering where the market for this is coming from in Omaha, Nebraska.

“Kids of all ages.  You’d be surprised at how many people think they’ve got the next Super Bowl quarterback or World Series pitcher.  People eat this shit up and spend hand-over-fist to have their kids trained.  I sponsor select club teams for most age divisions in football, baseball and softball.  I plan on moving into gym sports like basketball and volleyball later when I can build gym space.  Basically, I’m losing money if it sits empty.  We incorporated Boot Camps last summer and the moms went ape-shit over it.  It’s busiest in the summer when all the kids are out of school, I can keep it booked all day and most evenings,” he explains.

“That’s a lot with your kids,” I say.

“I’ve got people to run it for me in the evenings so I can be with the kids at night.  I have to put them in camp most days during the summer when they can’t hang with me at The Shed.  Jordy’s getting old enough to take part in everything, but Cara won’t go to camp unless her brother’s there.  For now I have to send them both.  Your sister’s saving my ass this summer by keeping them a couple hours before I get home.  I couldn’t ask for better neighbors, being a single dad,” he says before putting his lowball glass to his lips.

Huh.  That explains the sweaty gym clothes last week when he poured his Dr. Pepper all over me. 

“You work out?” he goes on.

“Me, work out?” I ask and think about how to answer this.  I know I’m a bundle of energy and have trouble sitting still sometimes, but I hate going to the gym.  It smells—even the nice ones.  “Well, I’m not lazy, but I don’t officially work out.”

“You should do a boot camp,” he declares.

“A boot camp?  I don’t think so,” I say with a little frown while shaking my head.

“It’ll be good for you,” he grins.  “No charge, since you’ve fed me two days in a row, not to mention the cookies and my kitchen.  We’ll call it even.”

“What?  No way.  You want to clean my bathroom or carry my bags on vacation, that would be a fair trade.  But you want to kick my ass in a boot camp because I fed you?  Not a way to thank a girl,” I reply sarcastically.

“I’ll get you signed up with a good trainer.  We have a new session starting next week,” he says as if I had just agreed to his offer, to which I’m pretty sure I sarcastically refused.

“I’m not doing a boot camp, Cam,” I bluntly turn him down.

“Sure you are.  After two weeks you’ll love it,” he ignores me again.

“You don’t know me.  I will never like anything called a boot camp,” I say.

“You will,” he grins.

I don’t have time to say no again because Cara comes running from the backyard.  Coming straight to me, she climbs into my lap.  I have to set my wine on the table not to spill or drop my glass.  

“What’s up?” I ask as she settles in my lap.

She takes her little hands and puts them to my jaw pulling my face close and asks, “What’re we doin’ tomorrow?”

I feel myself smile in her little hands and I look in her bright blue eyes that I’ve come to like more than I should.  I want to say it’s because they’re beautiful and bright on her, but I think—or know—it’s because they’re her dads. 

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” I ask back.

“I dunno,” she shrugs her shoulders.

“Tomorrow’s Friday,” I start to explain.  “On Friday’s I usually go see a friend of mine.  I was going to go while you were in camp, but l think she’d like to meet you.  She’s got lots of grandkids and great-grandkids.  Her name is Miss Rosa.  You want to come with me tomorrow after camp?”

“Okay,” she agrees.

“If it’s okay with your dad,” I say and look over at Cam. 

Cam is sitting back in his chair, his head tipped to the side with his eyes narrowed on us.  He looks as if he’s in a faraway place and I wonder what’s wrong with him.

I frown, “She’s eighty-five and doesn’t drive much.  She’s nice, but we don’t have to go if you don’t want us to.”

He takes a second and after pulling in a big breath, he shakes his head, “No.  It’s fine.”

I don’t have time to ask him if he’s sure because all of sudden I hear a woman’s voice coming from across the yard, screaming, “Jordan!  Caroline!”

Cam turns away from me in his chair, muttering, “What the hell?” at the same time Cara tenses in my lap.

I see a sort of tall woman with light hair trying to make her way through the expanse from Cam’s house.  She looks a little unhappy, definitely unnerved.   

“Who’s that?” I ask, but Cam has slammed his glass on the table and turns to stand.

“Our mom,” Cara whispers and tucks into me tighter. 

“Huh,” I wonder what I should do as I watch Jordy and Cara’s mother make her way across the yard. 

If body language could talk, hers would be cussing up a storm.  I’m thinking it would be a humdinger, maybe even F4 tornados.  Or one of the worst hurricanes on the hurricane Richter scale.  Wait, I think that’s used for earthquakes.  I live in the Midwest, I only know the tornado kind of storms.

Hmm.  Maybe I should have dug for more info on Jordy and Cara’s mom instead of The Shed.  I’m thinking maybe a little background information would be useful right about now. 

Yes.  This is definitely a call in the National Guard slash State of Emergency kind of storm. 

Yikes.

“Who is my daughter sitting with?” she yells as she approaches the patio. 

I see the woman who Cara says is their mother moving toward us through the yard, walking carefully since she’s wearing high heels.  She’s tall and thin but looks sort of like a rectangle in her midsection, there’s not much curve to her whatsoever.  This is easy to see because she’s wearing a pair of cream dress slacks with a fitted polyester blend floral top.  It has one of those built in matching scarf things in the middle of her boobs and looks like something my mother would wear. 

Well, there you go—her outfit proves it.  You can buy a pair of cheap black pants and pull them off as amazing, but white or cream?  Not so much.  I see the front pockets through her pants and that’s never a good look.  But I’ve got to hand it to her, she really maneuvers the yard well in those heels.  That takes talent. 

She’s kind of pale with light blonde hair that almost hits her shoulders.  She might be pretty, but her scowl is making her not so pretty at the moment.  Those frown lines are going to set if she’s not careful and she can’t be that old if Cam is thirty-two.  She’s one unhappy woman, that’s for sure.

I move to stand because for some reason I feel the need to be ready for something.  What, I’m not sure yet, but maybe something.  Cara grasps at me as I stand, so I pick her up and hold her to my hip.  I’m not sure continuing to hold her is a good idea, given her mother is screaming and wondering who I am.  But she’s got a death grip on me.  What am I supposed to do?

“What’re you doing here?” Cam bites out, clearly pissed at the appearance of his children’s mother.  I thought I’ve heard him angry when we had our standoff in the burger joint or Monday on Sophia’s doorstep.  But this is a whole new Angry Cam.  He’s crossed his arms and is standing in front of us looking way bigger than normal.

Jordy and Cara’s mother comes stomping up the patio steps in her high heels and puts a hand to her hip, “Who is she?”

Uh, hello?  Bitch alert.

Cam puts a palm up to her, but I butt in first, “Hey.  I’m Paige.”

She glares at me, but looks back to Cam and says with an obvious underlying meaning, “I thought your neighbor was married.”

“Bekki, shut your mouth,” Cam warns.

“Oh, I’m not his neighbor,” I add.  Feeling Cara clutch me tighter, I shift her and continue, “I’m his neighbor’s sister.  I’m keeping my nephews this week.”

“Why are you holding my daughter?” she frowns.

Cam interrupts her, “What are you doing here?”

“Becky?” I ask.  Going on with a smile, I say, “Nice to meet you.”

She narrows her eyes, cocks her head and simply says, “Yes. Bekki with an i.”

Oh yeah, she’s a bitch.  And we all know the sweeter you are to a bitch just makes them look more like one, not to mention pisses them off.  I’m me so it goes without saying, I can’t help myself when I smile big and exclaim, “Oh, that’s cute.  I’m Paige with an e.  My e is boring and silent, you can’t do much with a silent e.  I bet you had all kinds of fun with that ‘i’ back in the day.  You know, dotting it with a circle, or making the circle into something cheery like a sun or a flower.  If you were in the right mood and feeling it, I bet you even topped it with a heart.  I’m sure that little ‘i’ brought you
hours
of doodling goodness.”

Bekki narrows her eyes at me.  If we were in a comic book, I’m pretty sure I’d be struck dead, nothing left of me but vapor.  Poof!  No more Paige with a silent e.

“She’s a little young for you, don’t you think, Cam?” she spills.

If I wasn’t trying so hard not to be a bitch just to make her look more like one, I’d narrow my eyes right back, but refrain.  If this isn’t
Mean
by Taylor Swift, nothing is.

“Oh, I’m not as young as I look.  Trust me, we’ve already had that conversation tonight,” I grin.

Cam shakes his head at Bekki with an i, but turns back to us grinning, sharing our private joke.  He then looks to Cara and says softly, “Go play with your dog so I can talk to your mom.”

I think Cara wants to get away from the situation even more than me, because she instantly lets go to slide down my body. 

“Aren’t you going to say hello to your mother,
Caroline
?” Bekki asks, fake-sweet to her daughter and I do not like the way she calls Cara, Caroline.  It makes me cringe and I’ve decided that as long as I have a friendship with this sweet little five-year-old girl, I will call her nothing but Cara or some other cute lovie name that she rightly deserves.

Cara moves slowly around her dad, toward her mother.  When she gets to her, she puts her arms carefully around Bekki’s waist.  Giving her a tense hug, she says on a squeak, “Hi.”

Bekki puts her hand to Cara’s head and looks down to coldly greet her daughter, “Hello.  I’ll see you this weekend, but not until Saturday.”

Cara looks up quickly at her mom with a confused face at the same time Cam says with shock, “What?”

“This is what I’ve come to talk to you about.  Since you haven’t returned my calls this week, I had to come looking for you but you weren’t home.  I heard the kids playing and found you here,” she says throwing out her hand while giving me her evil eye. 

Cam looks to his daughter, “Baby, go play.”

“Okay,” she quickly agrees and off she goes. 

I wonder if it would be weird if I ran after her?

“I’ll just leave you two to talk,” I say and move to pick up my wine glass. 

“Stay where you are,” Cam insists.

“No really, I’ll go in – ” I start, but Cam turns and glares at me with his brows furrowed, pinning me to my spot.

“I guess I’ll stay,” I frown, not liking him bossing me, especially in front of Bekki with an i. 

He ignores me and turns to Bekki, “Why are you backing out on Friday?”

“I’m not backing out, I want to trade days.  Something came up and I’m busy Friday night,” she says.  She goes on looking a little uncomfortable, “I have some time off Tuesday afternoon.  I can pick them up from camp, they can spend the night and I’ll take them to camp the next morning.  I know it’s not my normally scheduled time, but it would make up for Friday night.”

Cam looks as if he’s trying not to explode and closes his eyes.  I see him in profile again as he drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, like he has a nasty headache coming on.  I’m not quite sure why it was necessary for me to stay, but I’m not stupid.  I know I’m a smartass-loudmouth, but I also know when to keep my mouth shut.  And this moment calls for keeping my mouth shut.

“Cam?” Bekki belts out.  I guess she hasn’t learned when to keep her mouth shut.  If I was her, I’d let him decompress.

“Why does this piss me off?” Cam asks, raising his head and looking to the backyard. 

“Cam?” she calls again.

“I should be fucking happy,” he keeps talking to the backyard.

“Campbell!” she yells for him this time.

Holy shit. 

Cam is short for Campbell?  What kind of name is that?

Cam’s head flinches and he glares at her, “I should be happy my kids don’t have to spend as much time with you. I shouldn’t let you have them on days that aren’t yours.  But fucking-A, my kids deserve to have a mom.  Even if God, for some crazy-ass reason, is putting us through hell by giving them you.”

Bekki leans at the waist and spits, “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“I never want to hear you complain that they don’t want to be with you.  You’ve made your bed.  Maybe you should put as much effort into being a mom instead of trying to keep up with a pack of dogs you’ll never run with.  Always the same shit with you, but now it’s affecting my kids.  And if I hear that Cara’s sad when she’s with you and you don’t do a fucking thing about it, I’m calling my attorney.  We’ll see about cutting your time with them to two days a month,” he threatens. 

“Two days?” she yells.  “You can’t do that! I don’t have a bottomless pit of money backing me to pay for an attorney.”

“Try me.  I dare you,” he says.

Bekki grasps her purse strap and yanks it back up her arm.  Her pale face is turning red, but I doubt she’s suffering from blushing like me.  She looks like she might explode. 

“Do we have a trade?” she seethes.

Cam shuts his eyes and breathes like he’s trying not to lose control.  Finally, he opens his eyes and shakes his head no, but says, “Don’t make me sorry.”

By the look on his face and the way he’s holding his body, if I were Bekki with an i, I would do everything I could not to make him sorry.  I have a feeling the consequences for Cam being sorry could be huge.  

“Fine,” she spits and turns on her high heel to somehow maneuver through the grass back to where she came from. 

Cam and I remain quiet until we watch her round the corner of his house.  I finally see him turn to me and I wait for him to say something, but he doesn’t.  He crosses his arms and drops his head, deep in thought. 

I’m not sure how long we can stay like this, so I surmise, “I guess that’s your ex-wife.”

His head doesn’t come up, but his eyes do.  He huffs once, confirming the obvious, “That’s her.”

“Is she the only one?  I mean, there’s not another is there?” I ask.

“God help me, she’s the only one,” he says frustrated.

“Well, you really know how to pick ‘em,” I say with raised eyebrows. 

He doesn’t respond, but he does narrow his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” I ask.

“She’s a bitch.  Looking back, I’m pretty sure she only had kids to appease me.  The divorce was ugly and because of the shit she pulled, which I won’t torture you with, she only gets our kids two weekends a month.  The judge took one look at us and her antics, didn’t hesitate giving me primary custody.  I don’t like my kids with her, but it’s court ordered and I’ve gotta do it.  For the life of me, I can’t figure out why she can’t get her head out of her ass and be a good mom.  They’re good kids.  They aren’t even a handful.  I know this because my sisters and I were a handful,” he finishes his rant by crossing his arms and looking out at the kids playing.

I hardly know him, but I can tell he’s a good dad and has to put up with a bitch of an ex-wife.  He does it because he loves his kids and he wants them to have a mom even though he clearly hates her.  I do know he works hard managing two full time jobs to give them everything he can.  What I don’t know, is if he has anyone to tell him he’s a good dad.  For some reason I feel it’s important he knows and I want to be the one to tell him.

I lift my hand to his bicep giving him a squeeze to get his attention.  He instantly looks down when I start, “You’ve got great kids.  They’re loving, they’re fun, they’re smart and they’re respectful.  You should be proud of that because it looks like that’s all you.  Jordy’s a sweet big brother to Cara when you aren’t around, and Cara’s just plain sweet.  Despite what you say about their mom, it looks like you give them everything they need.  You’re a good dad, Cam.  I’ve only known you a few days, but I’ve gotten to know your kids and I know a good dad when I see one, because I have a great dad.”

He doesn’t move, but breathes deep and looks down at me, holding me in his trance. 

Keeping my hand on his arm (holy smokes, his bicep is big and firm), I go on, “You’re giving your kids a good life, despite what you say about their mom.  Maybe she’ll come around and see what she’s missing out on.  Because she’s missing out on everything and that’s sad.  It’s her loss and that loss is huge.”

He turns his body to face me and I’m forced to drop my hand.  Hoping to get his mind off his ex-wife and the ugly scene he just went through, I decide to lighten the mood, “I mean, you can be kind of intense when interrogating someone on their age, but other than that, you seem like a great guy.”

He narrows his eyes on me and his mouth tips at one side. 

“The Sugar Daddy and Dr. Pepper incidents, notwithstanding.  You were an asshole,” I add grinning.

He chuckles once and crosses his arms.

“You did walk into me,” I keep on with a little shake of my head because I can tell it’s working and that warms me all over. “One second I’m standing there, the next I turn around and I’m soaked to the bone.  Then that horny kid ogled me with my tank wet and plastered to my body while you glared as if the whole thing was my fault.  You really do owe me a new tank top.”

He gazes another few moments before shaking his head, muttering, “Fuck it.”

The next thing I know, he grabs my hand and I’m being pulled the ten feet toward the patio door. 

“Cam – ”I start to yell, wondering what he’s doing, but I don’t get a chance to finish my thought. 

He swings the door open and after yanking me in the house, he plasters me up against the wall, his mouth landing on mine.  Hard.  I’m so shocked by his quick advance, I gasp and his tongue instantly delves into my mouth.  One of his hands goes to my hair, cupping my head and his other goes straight to my ass, pinning me against the wall with his solid body. 

Feeling his body pressed up against mine and being wrapped in his arms, I feel what I thought to be true.  He’s rock hard from his chest down to his strong thighs, and this confirmation makes me weak.  Just when I think it can’t get any more extreme, I feel his hand squeeze my ass making me moan into his mouth.  And hell if my moan doesn’t spur him to shift me higher, leaving me barely on my toes as he holds me while still pressing me to the wall.  I taste bourbon on his tongue, but can tell even under the liquor, he tastes better than any decadent dessert I could ever dream of creating.