Page 11 of Striking the Match (Redwood Bay Fire #3)

Cassius

I spent every Sunday for over a decade playing in front of millions of people during football season. I’ve been interviewed by all the big talk show hosts. I’ve given speeches at universities and sporting associations. Hell, I’ve met royalty and presidents.

Yet I can’t remember the last time I was this nervous as I park at the Redwood Walkway Experience.

The thing about fame is that it’s a wonderful shield.

As I was closeted for so long, I really did feel like there was a public Cassius and a private one that very, very few people truly knew.

Only my immediate family were aware of the real reason why I never dated any women, but even then, we hardly spoke about it.

I think they knew I couldn’t do anything about the situation, and didn’t want to hurt my feelings.

Except the situation is so totally different now, and it took my mom all of about three minutes to message the family group chat after dinner the other night, and now they’re all gagging for updates about my ‘sweet young man.’ Even my dad has instructed me to take a selfie of the two of us today.

I love that they’re excited for me and it’s clear they only want me to be happy. The sudden and brutal career change has rattled me, and they know it. So I get that they’d see a boyfriend as a completely different but equally huge life change, a positive one this time.

That isn’t something I can will into being, though. My new career—if I ever decide what that could be—is at least relatively within my control. I can start a business or reach out to prospective collaborators or whatever.

A relationship takes two. Or hey, more than two works for some people. But the point is it’s not a solo venture. That’s literally the nature of the thing.

That other person needs to be interested to the same degree and want to put in the same kind of commitment, which is completely out of my hands. And it’s not like I even know what the hell I’m doing, for crying out loud. I’ve barely dated, let alone been in a long-term relationship.

With all my accomplishments I’ve managed in this life, right now, I feel like a clueless kid on his first day of school.

All I can really trust is that when I saw Teddy Foster again the other day at the fire station, my heart leapt, my skin tingled, my breath hitched, and I just wanted to do anything to be closer to him.

I feel like I could tell the moment when he realized I was serious about getting his number and hanging out together.

It was as if his eyes got brighter and he stood up that bit taller.

It was enough for hope to ignite in my chest that Bryan was right and I hadn’t been imagining things.

There’s a spark between Teddy and I.

Kiki and I genuinely were on our way to the veterinarian for a check-up.

But given how scared she is of everyone, I honestly don’t know if she’ll enjoy having visitors post-op or not.

But it did seem to me like she moved toward Teddy from the safety of her cage, not away.

Maybe she really does remember him and they have a bond?

Whatever the case, the idea of Teddy in my house has been what’s been getting me out of bed and throwing everything I’ve got into turning the place from a stark new-build into a welcoming home, much to Bryan’s delight.

Despite all the scratches and bruises he seems to be getting between setting up our two places up, he’s absolutely in his element.

Seeing him happy makes me happy, even though he’s refusing to let me come over and lend a hand with his pad yet.

He keeps insisting that it’s not ready, but isn’t that the point?

I want to help him get it ready the way he’s been helping me.

We’ve been in each other’s lives long enough now that I’m fully aware when to stop pushing a subject, though, so I guess I’ll visit when it’s all pristine.

Wanting his home to be perfect before anyone visits does make sense, as that’s exactly what I’m doing with Teddy in mind for myself.

It would be way too soon to suggest him coming over today, so I was relieved when he asked if I’ve ever done the walkways in Redwood Bay’s namesake forest. He was thrilled when I explained that I’ve walked our family dogs here for years, but I’ve never taken the time to book the walkway experience.

Even though we were only communicating via text, I could feel his excitement when I enthusiastically agreed to his idea.

Yes, I’m extremely rich, and so are a lot of the people I’ve hung out with during my time playing for the NFL.

And money can buy you some truly wild experiences that I’ll treasure forever.

But there’s also something even more special about having wealth and yet choosing to do something simple with a person whose company you’re just really looking forward to.

I’m fully aware that Teddy has a modest income, and I wouldn’t expect him to pay for whatever we were going to do today, because this is definitely, absolutely not a date. Nuh-uh.

I don’t want him to be intimidated, either, though.

It’s clear he knew exactly who I was when we met, and I have a sneaking suspicion he might even be a fan.

But I don’t want to sweep him off his feet by throwing dollar bills around.

Luckily, the walkway is free. They just encourage you to donate at the end, which I will absolutely be doing.

If Teddy and I become friends, I want it to be because we click as regular human beings. Then if anything more develops, I’ll be certain it came from honest, sturdy foundations.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself again, Garda,” I mutter to myself, drumming my fingers against the steering wheel of my stationary truck. “You like him, that’s obvious. But don’t go rushing into anything. Take your time. If you don’t end up dating, there are plenty of other fish in the sea.”

Literally. If I went down to the beach right now, I bet I could pick up a hot guy faster than an ice cream melting at midday.

But I don’t want a hook up. I mean, I don’t think I could say no to some spontaneous sex right now, either.

However, I’d much prefer a meaningful connection after all this time.

Why spoil my appetite with snacks when dinner is going to be a sumptuous feast?

And there I go again, putting all this pressure on whatever fragile thing is blossoming between me and Teddy. That’s the trouble with being an aggressively high achiever. I see something I want, then I work my ass off until I get it.

I just need to slow my roll for now and figure out if Teddy even wants to get got.

Nothing’s going to happen at all if I never haul my ass out of this vehicle, so that’s where I start.

Since the storm that caused the river to swell, SoCal has gone back to blistering heat, and my skin immediately prickles with it.

I might have complained about the rain in Seattle, but I did appreciate it was somewhere that had discernible seasons.

Still, I can’t bring myself to actually grumble about the glorious sunshine, especially when there’s a pleasant breeze at this altitude and plenty of shade from the trees all around me.

Of course these Redwoods aren’t as gargantuan as the ones in Northern California or even those we had around Washington state.

This forest was created artificially back in the seventies as an ecological experiment using some kind of irrigation system, and when it was successful, the town was built next to it.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t absolutely gorgeous and one of the town’s biggest tourist attractions. Well, an attraction we share with San Clemente, and as they’re the fancier, slightly bigger town, they get most of the hotel bookings. But Redwood Bay benefits, nonetheless.

Huh…it’s funny how naturally I’ve slipped back into thinking of Redwood Bay as ‘we’ and ‘us.’ But I suppose feeling like San Clemente’s underdog is ingrained into everyone who grew up here, so it’s not surprising I’ve fallen straight back into that mindset.

Sharing anything in the sort of no man’s land between the two towns has always brought out competitive natures in people.

It’s the same with the Critter Canyon amusement park, although that closed down completely last year after a major incident that my sister swore blind involved a runaway ice cream truck. I’m still not sure if I believe her.

At least the park has reopened now, although the disaster area is undergoing serious renovations still.

Which is a shame, because that’s where the Tunnel of Love is.

I used to daydream about taking someone special there someday.

It seems stupid, but it was like a teenage right of passage that I never got to join in with back in the day.

Who knows? Maybe by the time it’s finally operational again, I’ll have a boyfriend of my own.

“Hi.”

I startle and spin around to find a nervous-looking Teddy Foster in front of me. But then he smiles, showing off that little dimple in his cheek, and all my apprehension melts away.

“You came,” I say, probably sounding like an idiot. Because of course he came. He’s standing right there. But I’m so thrilled, I don’t care. He’s here and he’s gorgeous and we’re going to go on a walk like normal people.

I’m more excited about that than any Hollywood premiere I’ve ever been to.

He looks bashful but happy. “I was worried I was going to be late,” he says as we start heading toward the walkway entrance. “But the stoplight gods were kind to me.”

I laugh easily. His whimsical sense of humor is one of the things I enjoy most about him, so far at least.

“It’s cool,” I assure him. “I only got here a couple of minutes before you.”

I’m deliberately not going to count the several minutes I spent sitting in my car, being ridiculous.