Page 29 of Score to Settle
“OK. It’s just I’ve seen it many times before. On an assignment like this… spending so much time together, the lines can get blurred. It makes things messy and can damage the integrity of the magazine.”
“You have nothing to worry about.” I smile tightly.
“Have you asked him about the cheerleader scandal yet?” Tim asks. “It’s what people want to know about and it’s that story and the aftermath with his brother Dylan that will sell a lot of magazines.”
I nod slowly, pretending I know what he means. What has Dylan got to do with the cheerleaders in the parking lot? It’s definitely something I should know by now. I could push Jake for an answer, but I think of how closed off he gets when I broach the subject and decide it’s better he tells me his version when he’s ready.
“Jake knows it’s a topic we need to cover,” I reply. “And he wants to get his side across, but it’s a little too soon.”
“OK. You’ve still got three weeks. Just don’t leave it until the end and give him the chance to duck out of it.”
“I won’t,” I reply, resolving to try again tonight after the game. It occurs to me I might be the one avoiding the hard questions because maybe suddenly I actually want Jake to like me. To trust me. And things are surprisingly fun when we’re not arguing.
Tim stands and shows me to the door. “Good. I’m looking forward to reading more from you soon. Now, haven’t you got a game against the Miami Tidalrunners to get to?”
I grin back. “Yes, I do.”
I’m still smiling when I reach my desk and send a quick email. A second later I hear the chime of it landing in Callie’s inbox and feel her glare. I’ve just sent her my travel itinerary for the away game next week, making sure to include Tim in the email so she can’t ignore me or send back the expletives I’m certain will be running through her head. Turns out I’m not above asking someone to book my flights and hotel for me.
“Oh,” I say, grabbing my jacket as I stand, “if you could, make sure it’s a window seat for the flights. Thanks, Callie.”
I drop her scribbled notes in the trash, hiding my smirk as I stride out of the office to get ready for the Stormhawks home game.
TWELVE
HARPER
Notes for feature: Jake’s power on the field is equal to his charm off it. It’s easy to get sucked into both and forget the man underneath can’t be trusted. Yet…
We won! Can I say we? Am I a Stormhawks fan now? Hell yes! And we didn’t just win. It was a crushing defeat: 34-18. The Miami Tidalrunners didn’t stand a chance. I’m buzzing. I can’t stand still. Hopping from foot to foot like the energy inside me is electric.
Mama grins as we make our way from the skybox down to the field—a Stormhawks tradition for Thursday night home games according to Mama. I find myself looking forward to seeing the wide smile on Jake’s face.
“It’s like nothing else, is it?” Mama says from beside me.
I laugh and shake my head, ponytail swishing. I’m back in tight jeans and my red Stormhawks tee, teamed with a cute leather jacket of Mia’s she threw at me earlier as I ducked into her apartment to say hi and change before the game.
Mama slips her arm in mine as we step into the tunnel. The noise of the stadium echoes around us in whoops and hollers and the stamping feet of the fans. We emerge from the tunnelinto a cold night, bright floodlights, and the roar of 70,000 people. The energy of the stadium floods through me. I suddenly understand why Jake lives for these moments. It’s electric. We join the line of family and VIPs at the sideline, waiting to congratulate the players as they head to the locker room. I spot Jake jogging across the field, helmet under his arm, dark hair damp from exertion and flopping over his forehead. He waves at the fans, basking in the glow of victory.
As Jake draws nearer, I’m suddenly shy. Under the bright lights, his sculpted arms and muscular thighs are on full display and my thoughts drag back to the moment in his hotel room last week when I smoothed the edge of his Band-Aid. The surprise on his face as I drew near, and the knowledge pounding through me that it didn’t need fixing.
When his gaze lands on me, Jake’s smile widens and he bounds over. For a crazy moment he opens his arms like he’s going to sweep me up and spin me around. Then he stops short before leaning close and saying in my ear, “You’re starting to feel like my good luck charm, Cassidy.”
I laugh, certain he’s joking. All I can think about is the heat radiating from where his hand is resting on my hip. I step back, putting some air between us.
“Where’s my hug?” Mama asks from beside me and Jake bends down and wraps his arms around her. “Proud of you,” she says, and then, “Right. I’ve got to see the physical therapist about Dylan and this trip to the ACL center in LA, and then I’ve got a late meeting with management. You’ll take Harper back to the ranch?”
He nods. “Sure thing.”
There’s no mistaking the don’t-fuck-with-me-air about Mama as her tiny frame moves past the players and coaching staff. I smile as a man twice her size leaps out of her path.
As Jake is surrounded by his teammates, one of the bigger, bearded guys swoops in and plants a loud, smacking kiss on Jake’s cheek. Jake bursts out laughing and gives the guy a playful shove.
“Alright, alright! Settle down,” Jake says, still chuckling as he extracts himself from the mob. He spots me hovering on the outskirts and steps over. “This way,” Jake murmurs, gently pressing a hand to my lower back and steering me toward the tunnel. A spark flickers in the pit of my stomach, which I hastily put down to the leftover excitement from the win.
We enter the dim, concrete tunnel, the sounds from the field fading behind us. It smells of dirt and sweat down here.
“I need a quick shower,” Jake says, glancing down at me with an easy grin as we reach a long corridor inside the stadium. “You OK to wait here? I’ll only be a few minutes.”
