Page 130 of The Backup Plan
“I mean, you’re going to be on TV today. This is?—”
“This is going to be the best game ever.”
“There’s a lot of emotion for you in that stadium,” she said, tapping the brim of his hat. She slipped her fingers through some curls that escaped the hat and tucked them behind his ear. “Will it be weird playing against your friend?”
“Bragging rights. But I will look arguably more badass with my tattoo, though, if you want to do it.”
“I want to do it.” She poked his bicep. “I’m going to start up here, closer to your shoulder, where you’ve got less hair. I don’t know how well these will work down your forearm. If this were a real tattoo, they’d be shaving you.”
“My throwing arm is yours to do with as you please. The rest of me is, too, if you need a break.”
She scraped her nails over the top of his thigh and smiled. “We can’t have Cameron Porter pulled over for distracted driving,” she said. “Eyes on the road. And while I work, you’re going to amuse me with some stories to help me with another project.”
“What stories, and what project?”
Avery pressed the first ink to his skin. “Jordan’s stories. I have some ideas about what happened.”
“It is impossible not to look,” he groaned.
“You’ve said that eight hundred and seventeen times now, and somehow, you’re managing.”
“It’s harder now that we’re off the highway and I need my arm back to drive,” he countered. He consulted the traffic on his map. “I’m whining, but I’m trying, and will manage for another nine minutes.”
“Thank you, Cameron.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me.”
He stopped at a red light and met her gaze. “I love you, Avery. I trust you.”
“Are you sure you want to say that before you look at your arm?”
“That’s what trust is, goofy girl. Whatever you confided in me with those millions of little stab wounds over the last few hours matters to me because it matters to you.”
“But did you say?—”
“I love you, Avery.”
“I—”
The driver behind them laid on his horn and yelled some choice words when he spotted the UND Football sticker on the rear window. Cam inched forward as slowly as possible, waiting for another left-turn arrow. “Not today, buddy,” he whispered, smiling at the rearview mirror. “I think only one of us will beat the stadium traffic with the VIP pass today, sir, and it is not you. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
He pulled Avery close for a kiss just before the arrow turned green and took his time letting her go.
“I love you, too!” she shouted above the horns.
“Cameron! Cam!”
Avery jerked her head left and right, looking for the source of the unfamiliar female voice while Cam dug through one of his duffel bags in the backseat of the truck. “Checking, checking, double, triple-checking…” he murmured, working through his checklist of glasses and epi-pens and the necessary hats.
“Cameron Porter!”
He jerked upright, arms laden with gear. “Pippa? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you get the ten million messages I sent you? They told me to come find you so you’d know where to go.”
“I was that creepy kid who memorized the stadium map by the time I was seven,” he snorted. “And I keep my phone on silent before games. Why did you—wait, why are you even here? Where’s Shelby?”