Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84200 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
It was disconcerting then, and since Kiera pointed it out at the party last night, my imagination has been on overdrive. It’s hard because Camden has come through for me time and again, and now I’m over here lusting after him like a teenager who’s discovered her hormones.
Camden knocks again and I realize I’ve frozen halfway across the living room. I scrape away the thoughts of what Camden might look like naked (I am shameful!) and center my focus on the real reason he’s here.
To discuss Travis and his hockey coach.
I swing open the door, offering him a blazing smile. “Hey… come on in.”
He enters, fully at ease and flashes me a disarming smile. “Any chance I could bother you for some coffee?”
“Hangover worse than you let on?” I tease as I lead him into the kitchen.
Camden settles into a kitchen chair. “Something like that. Where’s Travis?”
I don’t bother with a pot of coffee since I’m not having any more and instead make him a single cup using the Keurig. “Upstairs reading. He has to do twenty minutes a day whether he likes it or not, and trust me when I say, he doesn’t.”
Camden chuckles and the sound sends a shiver up my spine. Low and rumbling like distant thunder. “I didn’t like reading at that age either.”
“When did that change?” I ask as I put the cup before him—black, just the way I remember he takes it.
He gives me a sly look. “Never, unfortunately. I used Cliffs Notes to make it through English class in high school.”
I gasp in mock horror, holding my hand to my chest. “That’s blasphemous to good literature.”
Picking up his cup, Camden smirks over the edge. “I was a jock. Wasn’t interested in books. I was interested in stealing my dad’s Playboys out of his closet, though.”
I snort, because that’s probably a rite of passage for many boys. It won’t be for Travis, though. The most he’ll get is Mom’s old romance books and because of his disdain for reading, I doubt he’ll ever be exposed to the juicy stuff. At least not until he gets unfettered internet access as he gets older.
Camden sips his coffee and sets the mug down. “I talked to Coach Kantor for a few minutes. Nice enough guy.”
“And yet I hear a little hesitance in your voice,” I reply.
“He only cares about the players who have the potential to excel. He’s either too close-minded or too lazy to adapt his coaching style to make sure all the kids are benefiting.”
I frown with worry. “What should I do? Pull Travis out?”
Camden shakes his head. “I wouldn’t. Not yet. Travis is a good player and even if the coach isn’t the best all-around guy, he does know his stuff. I think Travis will learn from him if he can adapt to the way he teaches.”
“But that man could demoralize him,” I muse, worry pressing down on me.
“It’s possible.”
I feel like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. I’m wondering if he’s afraid of stepping on my parenting toes. “You think it’s worth the risk?” I ask hesitantly.
“I can’t say. He’s not my kid. But what I can tell you is if Travis has a passion for hockey, and if even at this young age you can see him always playing, I’d probably let him stay. He’s going to need to know how to handle difficult people. No two coaches are the same. The difference between our first coach after the crash and our current coach is night and day. If you can keep Travis’s confidence boosted this season, he’ll end up learning not only hockey skills, but relationship skills.”
Nodding, I let my gaze drop down to the table, mulling all this over. When I lift my eyes back to Camden, I smile sheepishly. “I’m too overprotective sometimes. My heart says to yank him out and find somewhere else for him to play. But my brain is saying you make a lot of sense.”
Camden looks me directly in the eye. “Again… not my kid. I’m not a parent, so I don’t know what’s right or wrong from that angle. I can only tell you what to expect going forward. However, if you want me to talk to him and explain that some coaches won’t be nice but that if you can look past that, you can learn something, I’d be glad to.”
I hesitate with immediate acceptance. He’s already done so much for Travis and me, and this feels a little like I’m pawning off my problems. But I trust Camden, and Travis looks up to him. I know Mitch would approve of him giving guidance to his son.
“If you don’t mind,” I say tentatively.
“It would be my pleasure,” he says, surprising me by putting his hand over mine on the table and squeezing.