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My breath caught. No buildup, no polite exchange, justbam. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? Was this the job offer I’d been trying to manifest, envisioning myself taking such a call every night as I lay in bed? I flipped around, away from the field. Greg was a pro andwould be sure to grab the marching bird footage. He didn’t need me for that. “I do. Yeah. Very much.” My mouth fell open, and I swiveled around again, facing the field, because I had no idea what to do with myself in this very exciting and unlikely moment. Galloping fucking gazelles, I was getting out of the small-town news business and moving up.

Tam pressed on. “Fantastic. I can offer a six-month contract and see how things go. From there, we can decide if it’s a good fit. The salary is not really negotiable.”

I was supposed to speak now, given it was the customary thing to do when it was your turn. I closed my mouth and searched for words because, dammit, speaking was what I did for a living, and I needed to continue doing that, so I could eat food. “Great. Yes. All of it. The money. Six months.” Way to play hard to get. I amended, “Six months is workable, I mean.” It was a test. I had to prove myself in that time or they’d cut me loose. Big stations didn’t blink when it came to firing reporters who weren’t working out. It was the longtime personalities they held on to. People like Caroline McNamara and Rory Summerton. Rory had struck a chord with the San Diego community a few years back when he went rogue and fired off a monologue about the evils of corporate greed. I’d thought for sure he’d be axed, but to my amazement his star only rose. People felt like he’d stood up for them. I couldn’t help but wonder if Caroline, being female, would have received that same treatment. The news industry was as sexist as any other, if not more so, unfortunately.

“Can you start the first of the month?” Tam asked.

I blinked. “Yeah. I can make that happen.” I wished I sounded smooth. The next sentence was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “What made you decide to give me a shot?” I sounded needy. I was.

A pause. “Your reel showed a spark, presence, but I wouldn’t have hired you off it. It was the last thing you said before walking out of my office, about hunger, drive. That’s what I need about now. A reporter who will beg, borrow, and kill for the story. If that’s you, that’s the kind of change I want in my newsroom. I’ve gone with the seasoned hires in the past, and I wind up with complacent. I need someone with something to lose—and that’s gonna be you.”

“You can say that again.”

He laughed. “HR will be in touch to get you set up. Don’t make me regret this.”

I thanked him and clicked off the call just in time for that bird totake another lap. The crowd of about two hundred began to whoop and holler even louder. I smiled at them and did a little whooping of my own. Greg glanced in my direction with his eyebrow raised because since when did I whoop on the job? I was no regular whooper. Plus, I was pretty sure my new gig wouldn’t come with a lot of whooping, so it was best I lived it up now. I wanted to hug everyone I saw. Jump up and down with them. I grooved to the music on my hot drive home. It wasn’t until I was alone in my kitchen that it hit me: abject terror. I was in the big leagues now, and that meant I had to get it together, remember everything I’d learned in school and at the station, and try not to embarrass myself or, worse, lose my job at the end of six months.

Then it got even more terrifying.

I’d be working on the same news team as Caroline McNamara. Reporting the news alongside a woman I considered to be the best in the business. I gripped my sink as I mulled over how to rationalize that little tidbit of information. Colleagues. Fellow journalists. Maybe even pals. Also, where had all the air gone? I gave my head a disbelieving shake. “Well, okay then. Caroline McNamara, here I come. Make some room.”

Chapter Two

Where do you want your kitchen thingies?” my little cousin Grace asked, carrying a box with my handwriting scrawled on the outside. I was trying to employ the organizational skills I didn’t actually possess.

I quirked my lips. “The kitchen?”

“Good choice,” Grace said, her approval on display. I felt like I’d just passed a new-home dweller’s test as administered by a teenager. She breezed past, and I exchanged a look with Emory.

“Is there another answer?”

“It’s Grace,” Emory said with a grin as she sliced into a box of books, and I got it. My younger cousin was a free spirit and could easily imagine my kitchenware hanging above my bed if I expressed such an interest. “When’s the big day? Kristin said they had your desk cleaned off and ready to go.”

“Monday. Which will be here before I know it.”

Emory blew a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and began alphabetizing the books on my newly put together bookshelf. “Well, I personally can’t wait to watch you on my television.”

Sarah ran a hand along Emory’s back as she passed through. “We’re going to watch every night. Maybe have ice cream. Or popcorn. Or both.”

I frowned. “Please don’t mix them.”

Sarah’s eyes sparkled with inspiration as Emory kissed her hand. “I might go off the snack rails. You don’t know.”

“But I do,” Emory said. “I’ve seen you in action and have not recovered from the chocolate salmon experiment of two years ago.”

“It was worth trying. Now we know.”

Emory nodded. “It was traumatic in multiple ways, but I love you anyway.”

I laughed. The two of them were my favorite couple ever. Complete opposites, with glamorous Emory serving as the conservative, stoic type and Sarah, bursting with energy, unabashedly wearing her feelings on her sleeve. My cousin was the type to take life by the horns and live every moment to the fullest. However, she was certainly rubbing off on Emory, who had really softened up over the years. It was clear she thought Sarah hung the moon. I wanted that for myself someday. Hoped for it.

In the meantime, I shrugged and absorbed the nervous jolt of energy that shot through me at the idea that I was about to take a big leap and lasso my dream job. Monday was days away. I wasn’t going to sleep the night before. I could already tell. Getting my new apartment set up had certainly helped occupy my brain and kept it from going into overthinking mode. The two-bedroom located on the second floor was small but modern with a bedroom on either side of the living room, roommate style. I was planning to use the extra room as an office and had already come up with a list of recipes to try in my new kitchen. I also planned to sit on the little balcony that overlooked a glamorous paid parking lot to decompress after a long day at work. Luckily, the downtown apartment was located only a handful of blocks from the station. I could walk to work if the weather was nice enough. Then again, if the gig didn’t work out, I would be forced to live in close proximity to my biggest failure and probably end up with a job as a server at a nearby dive restaurant all the while watching the news each night on the TV at the bar, and wondering desperately just where it all went wrong. Yep. That was how my brain worked.

“You guys don’t have to watch,” I told Emory and Sarah. “In fact, you should probably give me a few weeks to learn the ropes before tuning in. Let me fall on my face quietly. You know, without the fanfare.”

“Not gonna happen,” Sarah said, wiping down a lamp. “I will experience every moment.”

“Me, too,” Grace said coming around the corner. “And if you fall flat on your face, I can capture the spiral in a documentary about the end of your career and submit it to every festival. I’d be a decorated filmmaker before my sophomore year in college. Scholarship central. Think of the tubas I could afford.”

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