And yeah, he’d tested that out.
Placing the Audi into comfort mode, Cam pulled out of his driveway and took a left, heading toward the main road through town. It was four in the evening, and though the sun was moving lower in the sky, a hint of summer still clung in the warmth of the air. Rather than put the air on, he opened the windows, smiling as that old familiar smell of harvests and corn filled his senses.
He hadn’t even made it to the town square when he’d spotted some kids playing in the street, but hadn’t really thought about it. His radio was on, tuned to a local country station, and everything felt right with the world.
Until something came crashing against the side of his car.
His first instinct was to hit the brakes hard. The Audi came to a jolting stop, forcing his head forward and down until his brow almost grazed the wheel. His heart started to thud against his chest as he lifted his gaze and tried to work out what the hell he’d just hit.
“Shit! Let’s get out of here,” a low voice shouted.
“Mikey, wait up. I can’t run that fast.”
The two kids he’d spotted were like a blur as they ran up the road. Cam climbed out of his car and saw exactly what had hit the side of his car. A damn football, of all things.
“Hey, you two!” he shouted at the running kids. “Come here!”
But they kept running. Cam felt a flash of anger rush through him, because he’d been brought up better than to cause damage and run away. Scooping up the ball in his right hand, he took off after the two boys, one almost grown, the other coming up to his chest if he was lucky.
It was the first time he’d run flat out in two weeks, and his lungs were shockingly unprepared. His breath came in short pants as he rounded the corner and saw the two boys running up some steps. The eldest made the mistake of turning, his eyes widening as he spotted Cam barreling toward them.
“Wait up, you little shits!” A fresh rush of fury washed through Cam. Not just because of the car, though that was more than enough. It was about his damn injury. His career. The whole reason he’d driven down to Hartson’s Creek. It made him see mists of red when he should have kept calm.
“Get over here,” he shouted from the lawn of a blue-painted house. “Did you see what you’ve done?”
The eldest boy put his hands up. “I’m sorry. We were playing. I didn’t mean to hit your car.”
The younger boy looked petrified. “Mikey, I’m the one who hit the car.”
“Shut up,” the older one – Mikey – hissed. “Go inside. And don’t tell Mom.”
Before the little kid could do as he was told, the front door opened and a woman walked out, her pretty face pulled into a frown as she took in the situation in the front yard.
“Michael?” she said, looking from the boys to Cam. “What’s going on?”
“I can handle this, Mom. Take Josh inside.”
Cam blinked, because she didn’t look like a mom. Not the kind of moms he’d grown up with, anyway. The kid had to be at least fifteen, and she didn’t look much older than twenty-five. His brain might have been addled, but even he knew the math didn’t work.
“Your kids threw a ball against my car. It’s left a dent,” Cam called out to her.
The pretty mom winced and shook her head.
“You go inside,” she said to Mikey. Her eyes were dark. “Take Josh with you. I’ll deal with this.”
“But, Mom—”
She lifted her hand. “Don’t sass me, Michael. Go in right now.”
So she didn’t look like a mom, but she sure sounded like one.
Michael glanced at Cam, his eyes wide. “Mom, that’s…” he started, pointing at Cam.
“Go inside!”
The kid recoiled and huffed, then pulled his younger brother through the door with him, slamming it hard enough for the frame to shake. Cam watched as the woman pursed her lips and blew out a mouthful of air, then slowly walked down the steps to come face to face with him.
Close up, he could see how she could be the mom of a teenage boy, though she’d still have had to have been young when she had him. Her skin was smooth, but there were a few wo