Second String: Book 5 Last Play Romance Series Read online

  Second String

  Taylor Hart

  Contents

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Books by Taylor Hart

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  First Chapter—The Bet

  Candlelight Kisses

  Additional Works

  About the Author

  Copyright

  All rights reserved.

  © 2015 ArchStone Ink

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews. The reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form whether electronic, mechanical or other means, known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the publisher and/or author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This edition is published by ArchStone Ink LLC.

  First eBook Edition: 2015

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  For fans of impossible attraction—this one is for you!...I guess that’s me too!

  Books by Taylor Hart

  Series

  The Real Thing

  Book 1 On the Run

  Book 2 Going Rogue

  Book 3 Get You Back

  Hidden Falls

  Book 1 Happily Ever After

  Last Play

  Book 1 Last Play

  Book 2 The Rookie

  Book 3 Just Play

  Book 4 A Player for Christmas

  Stand Alone Books

  A Girl Named Grace

  The Secret

  Prom Diaries

  Part of Boxed Sets

  A Christmas in Snow Valley: The Christmas Eve Kiss

  Summer in Snow Valley: First Kiss

  Spring in Snow Valley: The Bet

  Note To Readers

  If you would like to receive a book FREE,

  The Christmas Eve Kiss, ($3.99 value), sign up for my newsletter HERE.

  Introduction

  Greetings fellow readers,

  My mother has always said that a girl who makes a handful of true friends in her lifetime should consider herself extremely lucky, for friends are rare jewels that should always be cherished. I consider Taylor Hart to be one of those rare jewels and am grateful to call her a friend. Taylor never meets a stranger and has the remarkable ability to brighten a room with her smile. I love how vibrant and rich the world looks through Taylor’s eyes. She’s a wonderful author who inspires and encourages me as we continue down our lifelong path of writing.

  That’s why I’m pleased to introduce ‘The Last Play Series.’ When I read The Last Play, I told Taylor that I couldn’t think of a more perfect fit! Taylor is the only female in a household of boys, and she’s intimately acquainted with sports. I love how she artfully combines football and romance—genius! Each story is unique, and Taylor’s zest for life shines through on every page.

  Pull up a comfy chair and get ready to be swept away by these irresistible, romantic stories that tell about the greatest game of all—the game of love.

  All of my best!

  Jennifer Youngblood

  Author of Candlelight Kisses

  Chapter 1

  Cameron Cruz, quarterback for the Denver Storm, stared off the back deck of his recently acquired home in Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Being in Jackson for the past three weeks had been good for him. It’d given him a break from the incessant paparazzi. Given him a break from all the questions from his sister, Alicia. Given him a break from the sport he loved—the sport that was so deeply tied to the father he’d lost six months ago.

  His phone buzzed. Flipping it over, he shook his head. Think of the devil and she shall call. Reluctantly, he answered the phone. “Hey, sis.”

  “Can you tell me why I’m staring at a deed to a house in Jackson Hole, Wyoming, that’s in my name?”

  He’d known she’d find out, but hadn’t known when. “Does it matter?”

  “It does when you’re supposed to be in Denver doing special training, which is why I let you out of all the spring branding. Then this shows up in the mail, so yeah, it matters.”

  “All my assets are yours. You know that.”

  “But you put this one under my name.”

  Cam sighed. “Sis, you know your name won’t be flagged by the press piranhas like mine will. Plus, all my assets go into the family trust anyway. We share them.”

  Alicia paused. “So you’re hiding?”

  “No.”

  “What’s going on with you? Why are you in Jackson? Is Tina still in the picture?”

  His sister worried about him. That’s what happened when you had a twin who was two minutes older—as she often reminded him. “No. Tina’s not in the picture. My plans changed, okay? Just …” His voice trailed off, and the familiar loneliness pierced the center of his heart. Unwanted emotion surfaced and he blinked it back. “I can’t be on the ranch. There are too many memories.”

  Silence. Then she let out a long sigh. “I know, Cam. I know.”

  Guilt surged inside him. “I know you do.” Alicia lived on the ranch with her husband and two boys; she’d worked with Dad every day. He sucked in a breath. “Do you need any money for the ranch? ’Cause you know you can just call the attorney and he’ll put more into the fund.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me?” Her voice was slightly less accusing. “And no, I don’t need money.”

  He sank into a deck chair, hating that he’d left her to manage the ranch by herself. Not that she couldn’t do it—she’d been basically running it all the past couple of years—but he hadn’t forgotten his responsibility. They’d made the decision together to keep the ranch after the funeral. He shook his head. “I should be over this.”

  “What are you talking about, Cam?” Her voice softened. “There’s no timetable on grief. Don’t you remember Dad used to tell us that all the time?”

  The portrait of his mother’s face on his dad’s night table popped into his mind. His mother had died in childbirth, and his dad had never gotten over her.

  “Cam, what can I do?”

  “Nothing.” She didn’t need his problems too.

  “You talked about opening a charity in Dad’s name or something. Have you done anything?”

  Honestly, opening a charity seemed so cliché. He didn’t want to treat his dad’s death like it was something ordinary. “I haven’t decided anything yet.”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively.


  “I’m fine. Really.” He opened his eyes and stubbornly wiped his cheeks. He was fine. He was. He willed it to be so.

  She let out another sigh. “Is Tina there?”

  “No. Like I said, things ended. They never really had a chance to begin. I just need space.”

  “Cam …”

  “What?”

  “I know you’re struggling, but don’t blame your relationship issues on Dad’s passing.”

  He hadn’t been expecting this. “What?”

  “Things don’t work out with any of them because you always get bored and put the toy back on the shelf.”

  Letting out a long breath, he ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re really going to do this right now?”

  “No, I’m not.” She sniffed, dismissing the subject. “What are you doing up there?”

  “Clearing my head. I bought two horses.”

  “I guess that’s a start.”

  “It is.” He nodded, thinking about his long ride earlier. “I’ve also been doing some writing.”

  “Songwriting?” She sounded skeptical.

  He’d thought about being a songwriter before his football career took off, but he really wasn’t much of one. Lately, he’d been working on some stuff—if he could count scribbling some notes and then wadding the paper up and throwing it in the trash working. The guitar strumming helped keep the demons in their box.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Cam. You know that, right?”

  Alicia had told him this over and over. He knew, logically, the car accident could have happened anywhere. But his dad had been coming to one of his games in Denver last winter. On icy roads. He’d told his dad not to come, but secretly, he’d been happy to have his dad come. Football had been “their” thing; the thing they talked about unceasingly, the thing had cemented their relationship when he was younger. There had been countless hours of playing catch, of his dad coaching him on every team. He had even been the assistant coach when Cam got into high school. Football had been everything to both of them.

  It had been a bright spot in life. He still remembered the look on his dad’s face when he’d told him about going pro. Still remembered staying up all night with his dad going over old game tape. Everything about his current life and playing the game was tied to memories of his dad.

  Cam had pushed through the end-of-season games. In fact, it’d been commented on in the media that Cam had played better than he had before the funeral.

  It ticked him off. How dare they say he played better? But later, in the recesses of his bedroom, praying on his knees, he’d come to peace with it. With the fact he’d played harder and better because he’d been playing for his dad. Only for him.

  They’d won the last two games, and his team had taken the championship title from the Destroyers, which had been quite a feat. Legend James still hadn’t commented on it.

  But the press was even jumpier about why Cameron was staying silent. That was the main reason he’d bought the house in his sister’s name. She was right—he was hiding. And now she’d found him.

  “Anything new with you guys?” he asked.

  He imagined her pinching the bridge of her nose, which is what she did when she was worried about something. “We’re good.”

  “John?”

  “He’s fine. Been doing some roping.”

  Cameron didn’t think it was wise for his brother-in-law to still compete in roping competitions because of the risk to his body. But what could he say? He played professional football for a living. “That’s good.”

  “Kurt and Jason have been practicing, and Kurt wants to try it out this season.”

  Cameron thought of his nephews, who were twelve and eight. “Kurt’s a good athlete. I can see him doing well.” He didn’t like how perfunctory the conversation sounded, but he didn’t have anything else to say.

  “Cam?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are you okay?”

  How did he tell his sister the truth? He couldn’t. “I’m fine. Great. Doing much better.”

  “Are you just hermitizing?”

  “No.”

  “Liar. I would have gotten a Google alert about you if anybody knew you were in Jackson.”

  “You’ve set Google alerts for me?”

  “Of course.”

  This actually made him laugh. Something he hadn’t done in a long time.

  “It’s nice to hear you laugh.”

  He sucked in a breath. He was doing better here. Coming to Jackson had been good for his soul, so he decided to share. “You’d be happy. I’ve grown out the blond hair.”

  She snorted. “What? You’re not dyeing it like the media prima donna you are?”

  “You never liked the blond on me.”

  “No, I didn’t. I bet you look better.”

  “More like my high school self.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I have a beard.”

  Another light laugh. “Awesome.”

  Rubbing his chin, he grinned. “I look like Dad. That’s been … interesting.”

  After a beat, she sniffed. “You’ve always looked like him, Cam.”

  “I know, but … you know.”

  “So you’ve been up there buying a house for me, living it up.”

  “‘Living it up’ isn’t quite accurate.”

  “Oh sure, you’re probably wrecking my house, staying up late in the hot tub.” She sighed. “Do I need to talk to you about ownership?”

  He grinned. She sounded just like their father used to when he was lecturing him. “Lay it on me.”

  “Be careful with my house.”

  He sighed. “I’ll try.” Then he had an idea. He said the words before he could think. “You should come up.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “When?”

  “Um, I don’t know. Two weeks? For the fourth of July?”

  “Okay,” she quickly agreed. “The boys will love coming.”

  He checked his phone. Two weeks for him to get back to his old self. “Okay.” He breathed out.

  “Will you do me a favor?”

  The favors his sister always asked him to do while growing up were meant to somehow better him. She’d always had the role of half sister, half mother. “Sure.” She wouldn’t take no for an answer anyway.

  “Get out of that house.”

  “I get out,” he said defensively.

  “I don’t mean go get all in the press. I just … it’s not in your nature to sit around and be a broody songwriter.”

  This made him laugh. “I’m totally broody.”

  “You’re being ridiculous. I’m the broody one.” Which was true. “Being with people and doing things has always been food for your soul. So get out. Do something. I expect to see some type of Google alert about you soon, or I’ll have to make a run up to Jackson sooner than expected.”

  Unable to stop himself, he grinned. “You’re the only person I know who can make a visit sound like a threat.”

  She laughed. “Love you, Cam.”

  Warmth filled him, and he wondered why he’d waited so long to talk to her. “I love you too.”

  Then he got off the phone, and frowned. Now he really did have to get out of the house.

  Chapter 2

  Cameron walked down Jackson Hole Main Street and peered up at the antler arch hanging over the street and culminating at a point with two big elk horns. His sister was right; he had been hiding out at his new house. He’d only been to Wal-Mart, and even then he’d worn his ball cap and sunglasses, just like now. No one had recognized him, and he hadn’t drawn attention to himself.

  It’d been hard. He wasn’t exactly “average” build. Growing out his brown hair color and the beard helped a lot, but he still maintained his training and he was a bit taller than most. Most of the time he wore a light-hiking shirt over his T-shirt and shorts, just to cover up even more.

  After talking to his sister yesterday, he decided if they were coming up for a visit, he wanted to have
stuff for the family to do.

  Most of the shops didn’t appeal to him at all. They were full of tourist crap, as he called it. Most tourist destinations sold the same generic things. They were all chock-full of moose-antler shirts and ball caps, the little water shakers with a mountain scene in them, and various watches, jewelry, specialty stuff, and art. He didn’t mind the art galleries, but he wasn’t here for that.

  Snake River Guides. The sign caught his attention. He walked into the store, keeping on his sunglasses.

  The girl at the counter didn’t look up right away. It gave him a chance to really look at her. She wore black boots and a knee-length skirt with a silk top and a large, blond bun on top of her head. With her black-rimmed glasses, she looked bookish and smart. She didn’t look like someone who would run a river rafting shop. No. He had been expecting an “earthier” kind of woman.

  “Just a second,” she said, without stopping her manic typing on the computer. She was pretty, and older than he had first thought. Probably his age, actually.

  Intrigued, he approached the counter and took a brochure, peeling it open and checking out the rates for a family.

  Finally, she stopped typing. “Right now we have a special: one ride down the river for sixty bucks flat, which is a smoking deal.”

  Cam stared down into the deepest aqua-green eyes he’d ever seen. They were unbelievably vibrant. He took off his sunglasses to inspect them further.

  She pursed her perfectly red lips together, not seeming to recognize him at all—or if she did, she obviously didn’t care he was a famous football player. Light wisps of hair had sprung free of her bun. She stood, and he noticed how thin she was. She reached out a finger, put it right above the family rate on the brochure, and peered over her black-rimmed glasses. “We also have a special deal today. If you book a family package, you’ll get ten percent off. You just have to go sometime this month.” She lifted an eyebrow expectantly.