Page 23 of Score to Settle
“No need to sound so shocked.” My tone is sharper than I intend and just like that we’re glaring at each other and I’m wondering if keeping Harper around is such a good idea after all.
“I’m not… I just… Thank you. That would be great,” Harper says, her reluctant gratitude doing nothing to shift the sudden tension between us. Just when I thought we were making progress. It’s like on the field, gaining five yards in the first down only to lose ten in the second.
I heave a sigh. “Lesson one—know your positions. What’s the difference between a quarterback and a linebacker?”
“A quarterback throws the ball and a linebacker tackles people?” she hazards.
I huff a laugh. “Close enough. But we’ve got a long way to go if you’re gonna understand what the hell is going on when we play the LA Wildhorns on their home turf on Thanksgiving, not to mention write a feature on the best tight end of all time.”
A teasing grin lights up her face. “I thought I was writing a feature on you.”
“Ouch, Cassidy. That was cruel.” I laugh and the tension lifts. For now, anyway. Something tells me I might live to regret keeping her around. Harper Cassidy is making my head spin and not in a good way.
NINE
HARPER
TIM:Good work so far, Harper.
HARPER:Thanks.
TIM:Send me a few more paragraphs by the end of next week. And don’t forget to send Callie your travel itinerary so she can book your flights and hotels. Enjoy the trip to LA!
HARPER: Will do.
Notes for feature: Beneath the playboy bravado, I’ve seen a gentler, patient quality to Jake. When it comes to talking about football, anyway.
“How’s it going with the grumpy but very gorgeous football player?” Mia asks by way of hello on Thursday evening as I make my way into the Hank Stadium and the home of the Los Angeles Wildhorns, phone pressed to my ear. There’s a tapping in the background and I imagine her in her holiday sweater at her mom’s house, full of turkey and pumpkin pie. And still she’s working. Typical Mia.
“He’s actually being a bit less grumpy,” I admit, taking in the dome shape of the stadium rising high above my head. If the Wildhorns were aiming for imposing, they hit the right vibe. I’m jostled by the crowds of Wildhorns fans in bright yellow jerseys making their way to their seats. There’s a buzz in the air, a sense of hope and camaraderie and excitement. Two Stormhawks fans in the familiar red weave through the crowd and there’s a friendly yell of goading from a Wildhorns fan and a cheer among the groups.
I pull the zip of my jacket a little higher, hiding the red fan’s tee Mama gave me this morning, wrapped in pretty pink tissue and tied with a bow.So you feel at home at the game,she’d said with another of her hugs.
“Really?” Mia’s surprise rings in my ear.
I take a staircase to the left, pointing me toward the skybox, reserved for friends, family, and VIPs. I wonder if there’ll be any celebrities catching the game tonight.
“Hey, why are you working on Thanksgiving?” I ask.
“Oh God, don’t! It’s too boring to talk about. But you on the other hand—tell me more about this less grumpy Jake. Is he actually answering your questions now?”
“Sort of. We made a deal on how we’d work together. It’s going… OK, I think. I sent some notes to Tim and he seems happy with where I’m at so far.”
“That’s great,” Mia cries.
It really is. I got so used to having my work torn apart atInsightthat I’m glowing from Tim’s message. Obviously I was a little selective in the notes I sent. No need to type up the pages of hate notes I scrawled in my notebook in the first couple of days…
“I can’t believe you and Jake are actually getting along.”
I laugh. “We’re not exactly getting along. We’ve just stopped acting like we hate each other as much. Him being less grumpy and answering my questions isn’t going to make me forget whathe did in high school, or who everyone thinks he is now. I’ve still got a job to do.”
There’s a pause on the other end.
“What?” I say, knowing Mia well enough to know there’s a question in that silence.
“Have you asked him about that article you wrote about him?”
I give a fierce shake of my head even though she can’t see me. Mia is the one person in the world who knows it was me who wrote the article about Jake. The one person who knows how badly Jake’s behavior hurt me. “Why would I do that?”
