Caught on Camera: A Spicy Fake Dating Romance (Love through a Lens Book 2)

“CURFEW IS MIDNIGHT,” I say to the guys, and I stare at them from the front of the bus. “You are all grown men. I don’t want another call from the front desk complaining about people sliding ice cubes down the hallway and pretending like they’re bowling. Got it?”

“Yes, Coach,” the team says, and I smile.

“Good. Have fun today. Nothing illegal. Nothing that will knock you off your ass. Wear your sunscreen and drink your water. It’s warmer outside than it is at home, and I don’t want anyone to be dehydrated at practice tomorrow. I’ll see you all at ten in the morning. Last person on the field has to run five laps.”

Dallas stands and holds out his arm. The other guys mimic him, a makeshift huddle forming in the aisle of the rented motor coach.

“Titans on three,” he bellows. “One. Two. Three.”

“Titans,” they all yell, and they follow it up with a roar.

Some pound on the windows. A few others jump up and down and stomp their feet. A swell of pride rolls through me as I watch their enthusiasm.

There was a time when guys were ashamed to say they played for the Titans. They refused to wear their jerseys and got into heated arguments in the locker room. There’s a different culture in place now. It’s one of respect. Of unity. Of love for each other and knowing the guy next to them on the line of scrimmage is willing to go the extra inch with them.

I don’t give a shit about Super Bowls or how much money I make. At the end of the day, when my coaching career is over, I hope they don’t talk about how many games I’ve won and lost.

I hope they talk about how I helped these men fall in love with the sport that changed their lives. I hope they talk about how I was part of something bigger than me.

“What are you doing today, Shawn?” Jackson Swift, my head assistant coach and defensive coordinator, asks. He leans against the seat and rests his elbows on the vintage fabric. “Got any plans?”

“Not really. Might go to the pool and enjoy the fresh air.” I grab my bag and turn my phone off airplane mode, something I forgot to do when we touched down at LAX ninety minutes ago. “What are you all getting into?”

“We were thinking about going to Disneyland. Want to join?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to pass. My goddaughter would kill me if she found out I went to a theme park without her. Let me know if you’re back in time for a nightcap, and we can meet up.”

“Sounds good.” He reaches out his hand, and I shake it. “I’ll send you a text.”

The team files off the bus one by one. They clasp my shoulder and shake my hand. Ruffle my hair and call me Dad. I’m giving them all shit—I know they’ll be in bed by ten, tired after a long day of travel and soaking up the west coast sunshine. I slide my sunglasses onto my face and step off the stairs. I’m greeted by palm trees, warm air, and a breeze laced with sunscreen.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I look down to see a stream of text messages come in. Three from Aiden. One from Maggie. Four from Maven asking what she should get her dad for Christmas. I fire off a quick response that, no, a walker isn’t a funny gag gift, and she should respect her elders. She sends back an emoji with its tongue out, and I chuckle. Lacey’s name pops up next, and I smile as I open our thread of messages.

LACE FACE

Have a good flight!

I forgot you have a team plane and don’t have to fly commercial like us plebeians. What’s it like not having to deal with TSA and the general public who don’t know you can’t bring a liter of soda through airport security?

Another instance of NFL coaches: they’re just like us.

I should start a series.

I burst out laughing. Instead of answering her with eighteen different messages like she sent me, I decide to call her instead.

“It’s Malibu Shawn,” she says when she picks up on the second ring. “How’s the weather on the west coast?”

“I think I’m already getting a sunburn.” I look up at the sky and squint. “There’s not a cloud to be seen. Just a lot of blue.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you? It’s twenty-seven degrees here. Twenty-seven.”

“Bright side: you haven’t been shit on yet today, have you?” I ask.

“No. Small victories, I suppose,” she says.

“There’s that positive attitude.”

“What are you doing with your day off?”

“It’s more like an afternoon off. I might sit by the pool,” I say.

“Why don’t you go to Disneyland? Seems like a fun thing to do.”

“Some of the other coaches are. I would, but I promised Maven I’d bring her out here next year and do the park with her.”

“Can you stop doing things that solidify you as the cool adult?” Lacey asks, and I hear her shit-eating grin through the phone. “You’re making me look bad. All I can offer her are lollipops and stickers from the office.”

“Some would say those are the finer things in life.” I grab my suitcase from the pile of bags and slip the bus driver a fifty-dollar bill. “How’s D.C.?”

“Not bad. Maggie and I are going out for a wine night tonight,” she says, and the excitement in her voice makes me smile. If there’s one thing I know about Lacey, it’s that she loves to spend time with her friends.

“Sounds fun. Is anyone harassing you?”

“Nope. The most activity there’s been around here is a mom of a patient asking if I could get you to sign a hat for her husband for Christmas. No one is sending me creepy fan mail or following me down the sidewalk. Guess I’m not that interesting.”

“You’re plenty interesting, and I can definitely sign a hat for her. No problem.” I pull open the heavy glass door to the hotel lobby and nod at a family behind me to go ahead. The dad does a double take as he passes, and I hold back a laugh. “Maybe I’ll sign a batch of them so you can keep them in your office.”

“Oh, really? Wow. That would be awesome. Thank you.” She pauses and clears her throat. “I better get going. I have a couple more appointments today, and I haven’t had lunch yet.”

I check my watch and do the time zone math in my head. My smile slips into a frown. “Lunch? It’s almost three in the afternoon.”

“I know. There was a mix-up on the calendar, and I got double booked. We worked it out, but I’ve been busy all morning. I might power through until dinner. The place where we’re going has a delicious burger,” she says.

My fingers curl around the door handle, and my spine stiffens. It might be close to seventy degrees outside, but a cool feeling of irritation works its way up my back. “Please eat something before you go out drinking, Lacey.”

“I’m fine,” she says, and if she were in front of me right now, she’d definitely be waving me off. “I’ll text you later.”

“Send me your location when you leave tonight?” I blurt out, then I slap my forehead with the heel of my palm. “Just in case.”

“Worried about me, Holmes?” she teases, and I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“I’m your boyfriend, Lacey,” I say lowly.

“Fake boyfriend,” she whispers so softly, I have to press my phone against my ear to hear her.

“Doesn’t matter. Fake. Real. I don’t give a shit. I take care of what’s mine, and right now, you are mine.”

I’m met with silence. Neither of us say anything else, and I wonder if I went too far. It’s the truth, though; I do worry about her. People are out of their minds these days, and being associated with a professional athlete comes with certain risks. I’m going to do my damnedest to protect her from whatever lunacy comes from being with me.

She is mine—not in the literal sense. I don’t own her. She can do what she wants, and she knows that. That woman is as independent and fierce as they come.

But as long as she’s going to be attached to me, I’m going to look out for her well-being. I’m going to make sure she’s fed and she’s safe and she’s happy. I’m going to buy her what she wants and spoil the shit out of her.

When this ends in a month, I’ll still look after her, just from further away.

She’s not getting rid of me that easily. I’m never letting Lacey Daniels out of my sight again.

“Okay,” she finally says. “Okay, I’ll send you my location.”

“Good. Thank you. I hope you have fun with Maggie.”

“Thanks, Shawn Yawn. Have fun in Cali. Catch some waves, bro,” she says, and I laugh. We’re right back to our normal selves.

“See ya, Lace Face.”

I hang up and head into the lobby. The team crowds the space, grabbing their room keys and bottles of water. Bystanders pull out their phones and snap pictures. A couple whisper and point. Another flicks off the guys, and Dallas answers him with an enthusiastic wave and an offer to sign the man’s shirt.

Glad to see our media training is paying off.

I spot Darcy, the team’s assistant, lounging in the corner on the sofa. Prim and proper with perfectly curled hair and painted red nails, she’s unbothered by the chaos. She’s used to the routine of checking us in and out of hotels after four years in her role.

There was an away game last season when porn got charged to someone’s room. She had to use the team credit card to pay off the balance for three videos titled Diving in her Folds, and mortification rolled off of her as she signed the receipt.

I’ve never laughed so hard in my life.

“Hey, Coach,” she says, smiling up at me. “What’s up?”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Is it the jerseys? I have them out with dry cleaning already.”

“No.” I shake my head and rub the back of my neck. “It’s a personal favor.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widen and she sits up straight. “What’s up?”

“Can you have some food delivered to Lacey’s office in D.C.? She hasn’t eaten yet, and I know she’s not going to get something on her own.”

Darcy’s face softens, and she pulls out her phone. Her thumbs fly across the screen, and I see an app open with a dozen culinary options. “Of course. What does she like?”

“Sushi, I think?”

“You don’t sound too sure.”

“Yeah.” I nod and remember the time we went to an all-you-can-eat restaurant. Lacey devoured ten plates of spicy tuna rolls like it was a walk in the park. She leaned back in the booth with a sleepy grin on her face after she tapped out. “Sushi for sure. Use my credit card.”

“You got it. I’ll get it ordered and sent to her within the half hour.”

“Thanks, Darcy. I appreciate you.”

“Don’t mention it. Hey.” She stops me from leaving with a touch to my wrist. “I wanted to say I’m happy for you. I know how hard you work, and I’m glad you found someone who helps you slow down. Lacey’s great, too. I was wondering when this would happen, and I’m so glad it did.”

“Wondering?” My eyebrows wrinkle, and I stare at her. “What do you mean?”

“She’s always there for you, and she doesn’t seem to care who you are. That’s not a bad thing,” she adds quickly, backpedaling like she’s going to get in trouble. “I just mean it’s clear she’s not with you because of your fame or money. She really likes you, and that’s refreshing.”

“Oh.” My skin is prickly, and I nod. “Right. Yeah. She’s—she’s great. We’re happy.”

“I can tell. I haven’t seen you smile this much in years.” Darcy stretches out her leg and taps my sneaker with hers. “Go get checked in. I made sure you were on a separate floor from the guys. I’ll send you a text when the food gets delivered.”

“You’re a lifesaver.”

Thirty minutes later, after I unpack my suitcase and open my computer to answer some emails, my phone pings on the desk. I open it and find a picture of a bag of takeout with a single red heart.

LACE FACE

Thank you.

Don’t tell anyone else, but you’re my favorite.

ME

The feeling is mutual, Daniels.

We’ll keep it our little secret.

I dip my chin and grin from ear to ear.

Darcy is right.

I really haven’t smiled this much in years.