Page 188 of Hate Mates

“Look, I’ll make you a deal.” My mind whirled to come up with a way to convince her to follow me. To spend just a little more time in her presence. “You come to my room, make your phone call, and I’ll promise you the exclusive about my contract negotiations.”

“Are you serious?” Her eyes brightened and I gave myself a mental fist pump. Hunter would probably kick my ass if heknew I was talking to a reporter about his decision to retire from football and become my new agent, but I was willing to risk my best friend’s ire if it meant helping Avery.

I wanted to give her something tonight.

I wanted to give her everything.

“Alright,” she finally relented, and I bit my lip to keep from grinning.

Leading her to my room at the end of the hall, I quickly swiped my own card, grateful when it flashed green immediately.

“After you.” Swinging the door open, I gestured for her to enter ahead of me.

“Wow,” she breathed, then caught herself. “I mean, it’s cleaner than I expected.”

Pursing her lips, Avery crossed her arms, the position meant to make her look intimidating, but all it did was push her luscious tits even higher. Dropping my gaze for a quick second, I took in the way her cleavage looked, breasts peeking enticingly out the top of her fancy business shirt.

It was incredible, and I was desperate to see more.

“I’m not a slob, Peel,” I laughed, closing the door and entering the suite behind her. “Make yourself at home.” Heading to the bar in the corner, I opened the wine fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of chardonnay and poured her a glass. “Here.” I held it out to her. “I owe you a drink.”

“You owe me a lot more than that, Holloway,” she ground out, but she took the glass from me anyway.

“About that.” Sitting down on the couch in the lounge area, I was grateful when she moved to sit as well. As far from me as she could get on the same piece of furniture, but I counted it as progress. “I get that I was a bit...overzealous the night we met, but do you really hate me?” The word caught in my throat, thememory of the vehemence with which she’d said it cutting deep again.

“Well...” she hesitated, taking a deep drink of her wine.

“I mean, hate is a strong word, Peel.”

“And yet, it’s the word I chose.”

“I complimented you,” I stated, knowing that was stretching the truth a bit.

“You humiliated me,” she spat, and I realized she meant it. Crossing her legs, defensively, I could see her pulling away, her posture telling me everything I needed to know.

“Avery.” I waited until she looked at me, her face closed off and her formerly rosy cheeks shockingly pale. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You say that, but you don’t really understand.” Setting her glass on the table, Avery stood, pacing in front of the wall of windows as she spoke. “You don’t understand what it’s like, being a woman in an industry like mine. How hard I’ve had to work to get to where I am in my career. How many women do you think make it this far as a sideline reporter? Next to none,” she went on without giving me a chance to answer. “Those men, the good old boys who run the show? They never take someone like me seriously. I have a Master’s in Journalism from Syracuse University, for crying out loud, and those men still ask me to get them their coffee.” Blowing out a breath, she threw her hands in the air. “It’s beyond insulting. So for you to show up that day, the first time I’d been invited to the table, and say what you said?” She looked at me, suddenly deflating, and something inside my chest cracked at the sight.

I liked angry Avery. I liked her a whole lot. She was fiery, a woman who was resolute in her quest to get what she wanted out of life. So, seeing her go from determined to defeated was something I was ashamed to have had a part in.

“I’m sorry, Avery.” I meant every word.

Looking into her wide blue eyes, I held out my hand. When she took it, I drew her down beside me, fighting to focus past the tingles her touch sent through me. “I was wrong. Young, dumb, and cocky as hell.” She frowned, clearly unsure what to do with my words. Her fingers moved in mine, and I clutched them tighter, not wanting to let her go. Touching her was a revelation, and as I attempted to commit the softness of her skin to memory, I forced myself to focus on the words I wanted to say and not the way her my whole hand tingled from just that little bit of contact.

“The awards were about to start, and I was so fucking pumped to have been nominated. I’d had a few too many, and then I looked across the room and there you were.” I smiled at the memory, the image of her sitting at that table, a sensible little black dress and a string of pearls making her look so tempting and corruptible. “I was fucking gone for you the minute I laid eyes on you, babe. So absolutely spellbound, I had to work up the courage just to walk over there and talk to you. By the time I had drank myself into confidence, my brain had gone out the damn window. I spoke without thinking and I’m just so sorry.”

I remembered it clearly, despite the alcohol.

Are your legs made of peanut butter? Because I’d love to spread them.

In my head it had sounded so clever, and in any other circumstance, she may have even laughed, thinking I was adorable.

Butthatnight, atthattable? Avery had been horrified. The men she had been sitting with had all overheard me, their raucous laughter drawing even more attention to us, and I’d watched as Avery sank down in her chair, attempting to disappear.

But it hadn’t ended there. No, the jackasses that she worked with had all piled on, doling out one bad pick-up line afteranother, most of them unfairly referring to Avery’s curves as something other than amazing. I’d watched, embarrassed and unsure, as the guys had made her the butt of the joke, and before I could find a way to fix it, the awards ceremony had started, and I’d been ushered back to my table. After the awards—and after I’d sobered up a bit—I’d tried to find her so that I could apologize and tell her that I really was into her, but she was gone.

The next time I’d seen her, she’d been cold, and I knew that I’d ruined any chance I’d ever had of getting her to go out with me.

---