Page 28 of Score to Settle
JAKE:In the nurse’s uniform?
HARPER:You wish!
Notes for feature: There is more to Jake than football and women, but that doesn’t mean he’s not happy to flirt with anything with a pulse, including me. He uses his charm to put people at ease, but he also uses it to deflect difficult questions. The incident with the cheerleaders last September and his strained relationship with Dylan included.
Another week passes and my truce with Jake holds. We’ve fallen into a rhythm of talking in his truck on the way to practice,and walking with Buck around the ranch in the late afternoons, mixing our banter with questions. It’s hard to believe nearly two weeks have gone by since I was last at the Arquette building being told I’d be following Jake Sullivan around for five weeks.
I take a deep breath as the elevator doors ping on the twentieth floor, opening to theSports Magazineoffices. I feel even less like I belong here than when I was sitting at my desk in the far corner every day. It feels equally strange to be wearing my blouse and pencil skirt and Louis Vuitton heels after living in jeans and sweaters and my new Stormhawks tee for the last couple of weeks. I don’t need to wear such corporate attire to work here. Hell, I’ve never seen Tim in anything but bootcut jeans and sneakers. It’s another reason I stick out like a sore thumb, but it’s my armor while I’m here. Fake it ’til you make it, just like Jake said.
It’s a reminder to myself too that I can handle myself when the what-the-fuck-am-I-doing anxiety starts to overwhelm me and I fear someone is going to ask me a football-related question. I really hate that I lied to Tim and the team. It seems stupid now. All journalists have their strengths and weaknesses, but I knew my dad was disappointed in me for being fired. I hated the thought of everyone knowing I was a failure. I was desperate and humiliated, but that’s feeling more like a lame excuse with every passing week, and as bad as I feel about it, I’m stuck with the lie now.
The office is just how I left it. Chaos and mess and sports memorabilia scattered around the place. Stood by the printer is a life-sized cardboard cut-out of an ice hockey player in full uniform. Someone has stuck a speech bubble to the side of his head that reads,Tidy your desks, a**holes!
Heads turn as I make my way to my desk. A few people nod and I smile back, but no one leaps up to ask me how I’m doing. It’s nearly the end of the day. Everyone is counting down theminutes before they can go home. If I was Callie, I know Alison and the other women who work here would be whisking me off for a drink in one of the nearby bars, asking the juicy gossip about Jake, but I’m not.
I sigh as I reach my desk and see it’s become the dumping ground for unwanted mail and whatever other crap people want off their desks. Callie looks up from her screen at the desk next to mine as I sit down to discover I’ve also been left with the chair with the broken wheel.
“Hi, Harper. Good to see you,” Callie says in a tone that suggests otherwise. “I almost forgot you work here,” she adds with a tinkling laugh.
“Hey,” I reply.
Then she smirks, ducking her head back to her work. A second later I see why. On top of my keyboard is a printout of my latest paragraphs I sent to Tim yesterday. The entire page is scribbled over with red pen, and written in capital letters at the bottom is the word “BORING.”
A sharp hurt stabs my chest. Tim thinks my work is boring. He thinks I’m a terrible journalist. I’m going to be fired. It’sInsightall over again. Except without the sleazy editor making a pass. That clammy hand on the bare skin of my thigh and the hot breath in my ear.
You know, Harper. I can make sure you go places here.
Maybe if I’d turned him down more gently things would’ve been different. Something less cutting than my scoffing reply:I wouldn’t sleep with you if you were the last man on earth. Now get your fucking hand off me!
I’d marched out of the office, intending to contact HR the following day. But the asshole got there first, telling HR I’d propositioned him. He made sure word spread around the office that I’d tried to sleep my way to the top.
No wonder Callie is gleeful. Living in Jake’s world, I’d forgotten only one of us will have a job come January. Three more weeks to finish my feature on Jake. Three more weeks in this job. A flash of anger chases my hurt away and I’m on my feet, marching in my heels across the floor and straight into Tim’s office without knocking. I hate that he thinks my work isn’t good enough, but that’s no excuse to humiliate me in front of Callie.
Tim’s gaze shoots up at my sudden entrance, but he smiles when he sees me. “Ah, Harper. Take a seat.” Somewhere beyond my anger I register the friendly tone as he waves me to a chair I ignore.
“I didn’t ask for this assignment!” I say as I stride to his desk.
He looks perplexed but nods in agreement. “I know. I gave it to you after?—”
“I’m the one who’s put my life on hold,” I cut in, skirting over the small fact that watchingLA Love Huntwith Mia, browsing bookshops, and hitting the gym on Saturdays hardly counts as a life, but Tim doesn’t need to know that. And even if my life is pathetic, I still missed Mia’s epic family Thanksgiving for the first time since I was thirteen. “I’m the one trying to get to know a man who does not want this any more than I do, and?—”
“And you’re doing a good job,” Tim cuts in with a bemused smile.
His comment knocks the momentum out of my anger. “What?”
“You’re doing a good job,” he repeats. “I told you that in my message the other day. You’re nailing it, Harper. I’ve already shared your latest notes with the team.”
“But…” I glance down at the piece of paper screwed in my hands and the word “boring” written across the bottom. Tim might have a short fuse, but if he had concerns about my work, he’d have told me to my face. From the corner of my eye, I spotCallie in fits of laughter at her desk. I just about stop myself from face-palming. I fell right into her trap.
“Thank you. Sorry,” I stammer, dropping into the chair opposite Tim’s desk. “What did you want to see me about?”
“I wanted to check in on how you’re doing,” Tim says, leaning back in his chair. If he’s wondering what the hell my tantrum was about, he’s not asking. “You’re doing excellent work and I don’t have any concerns at all, but I also know Sullivan can be… difficult to work with.”
“He’s not so bad when you get to know him.”
Tim raises his brows and I almost laugh. I’m as surprised as he is by my comment. “He’s… You and he… I mean, he’s treating you well?”
It’s almost funny to hear Tim trip over his words. “We’re keeping it professional if that’s what you’re really asking.” It is and we both know it.
