Family Camp (Daddy Dearest, #1)(29)

He huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Look. Just to lay it out there. I don’t do this. Not at Family Camp. Not at camp, period.”

Geo’s smile broadened. “Totally. I get it.”

“It’s not cool. And it’s not safe,” Travis insisted.

“Sure. Hundred percent agree,” Geo said easily. His knees fell slightly apart. Which, naturally, drew Travis’s eyes to his crotch. Even in the moonlight, he could tell there was something going on there, and it was something Travis very much wanted. A bolt of lust went through him, along with a strong urge to drop to his knees and bury his face at that tempting juncture.

He forced himself to raise his gaze to meet Geo’s. There was an amused sparkle in Geo’s eyes.

“You’re a jerk,” Travis said with exasperation.

Geo laughed. “I so rarely get to be one.” He sat up, his face growing serious. “Honestly, man, I don’t wanna mess with you. I just, you know, keep hearing what a hookup-fest Family Camp is. But I can see you’re waaaay above all that.” He winked.

Travis snorted. “Good night, Geo.” He made himself turn and walk away.

“Night, Travis. Hey, sleep tight, bro!” came Geo’s reply, a secret smile in every vowel. And damn it, but Travis wanted to turn around so badly it hurt.

He really did like the guy. He loved how light Geo could make him feel. Travis couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so much. He was kind of a serious guy, as a rule. He loved how Geo’s sense of humor made everything seem fun, seem better. The canoe trip. Hiking. He didn’t think he’d ever dated a guy, or even had a friend, who was so naturally funny. He hadn’t realized how much he appreciated a great sense of humor.

And that was just the icing on the cake. What Geo was doing with those kids, his dedication to being a dad—shit. Travis couldn’t even think about that without going mushy.

Which was precisely why he had to be careful and keep reminding himself of where he was, who he was, and what absolutely wasn’t going to happen. Not this week. And, really, not anytime in any future he could foresee. That just wasn’t his life.





Chapter 13




“Batter, batter, batter, saw-wing!” Geo called out from his position manning second base.

Travis bit back a smile and punched his glove. He was playing shortstop, hanging out between second and third base.

“Come on, Frank!” Travis called, encouraging their team’s pitcher. Frank was a dad in his forties, and he played in a men’s softball league. He pitched an easy lob to little Aiden, who was up at bat.

Wednesday morning of camp was family baseball, and they always had a crowd of gawkers. Right now there were at least twenty campers along the sidelines—almost all parents—holding up their cell phones taking pictures or video, ostensibly of the kids, but actually of Travis. Travis ignored them.

“Come on, Aiden!” Geo called, clapping his hands in encouragement, even though Aiden was on the other team. Aiden’s teammates, including Jayden and Stryker, shouted encouragement from behind home plate.

Aiden hit the easy pitch, sending a low ball right toward Travis. He moved for it at glacial speed, giving Aiden a chance to get to first base. He watched the kid slide onto the plate before he picked up the ball.

“Way to go, Aiden!” Geo called. “You da man!” He jogged over to the plate to high-five Aiden.

Van whooped from the sidelines, her phone up, recording. At her feet, Lucy was sitting on the ground, petting Max. The dog was rolling around on his back, enjoying the belly rub and a dust bath.

Next up to bat for the Bluebirds was Glinda Smith. Glinda had played in college, and she and her two teenage boys were the best players at camp besides Travis. They were the ringers Travis had put on the Bluebirds team to balance the game.

Setting the teams was tricky. Everyone wanted to be on Travis’s team, so to avoid argument he made up the team rosters ahead of time. Stryker, Aiden, and Jayden were on Glinda’s team, the Bluebirds. Travis took several of the younger boys and newbies onto his team, the Goldenrods, along with a couple of the dads who were better couch jockeys than players. The adults and teens who could actually play got divided up evenly, as did the little kids. He’d stuck Geo on his team just because. He’d had no idea if Geo knew a bat from a bowling ball, but honestly, he wasn’t bad.

The Wednesday game wasn’t about competition—it was about giving kids a chance to try baseball, building their confidence, and letting families play together. Saturday’s game would be much more serious.

Glinda came up to bat, looking sporty in her baseball pants and tank top, her long blond hair in a ponytail under her baseball cap.

“Strike ’er out, Frank!” Geo called, hunching down over his knees.

“Come on, Mom!” shouted Glinda’s two boys.

Frank looked at Travis. You want to pitch this one? Travis shook his head. He tried not to pitch at camp. It wasn’t fair and, anyway, he’d promised his PT he’d rest his shoulder this week.

Frank did his best. He pitched easy to the little kids, but he pitched hard and fast to Glinda. She hit it, but not as solidly as she might have. Instead of sailing over their heads for a home run, it went in a high, short arc toward second base. Geo ran back, eyes on the ball—and caught it in his glove.