Page 52 of Striking Heat
I nod. “I know, but it’s easier to focus on that instead of talking about what I’m not doing anymore.”
“Is it hard to interview me?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not just showing up at the games, but now you’re hanging out at all the events, the trainings. Do you miss it?”
“I said I did.” There’s a bit of an edge to my voice.
“Sorry. I just didn’t know if that was why you didn't appear to actually ask me any questions. You just seem to steer the conversation to more personal things when we’re together. It makes me wonder if you can write this article or if we should tell Cromwell that I’m not cooperating with you, and everyone can go about their day.”
I shake my head. “I might not be asking you any questions, but I am gathering information for the article. It’s not a process the way you may imagine it to be. It’s not always about talking to you about your likes, dislikes, and all that.”
“So, you’d rather sit here and talk about the next time you’ll get me naked?”
I wish there was a smile or something in her eyes, but she looks pissed off at the world. I hate that. This isn’t going the way I wish it would. Truth be told, I probably should get rid of the article. Hand it off to someone else so they can do it right. Iwould rather spend my time getting her naked and asking her questions that matter to her, not the article.
“Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about the article. We can do that,” I tell her, trying to steer this lunch back on track.
“Okay” is all she says.
“How do you feel things are going in Tampa? How are you liking it? Do you think it was a good move from Portland?”
“Uh,” she stammers. “I think I like the naked questions better.”
She laughs along with me, and it seems like whatever bit of armor that may have been working its way in place has slipped off.
“You are so easy to talk to. You know that, right?”
“Really?” I ask her. I’m confused by her statement. “I thought all we did was bicker.”
“We definitely do our fair share of that. But it’s nice to talk to you. Even though it may just be for the article, or even when it’s not, you’re listening to me.”
“I am.”
“I know.”
“So, was there someone special you left behind in Portland?” I hate the question, but I want to know. I know she doesn’t have a boyfriend now, but did she? Is there going to be someone showing up at her doorstep and saying how stupid they were to let her go? Because, damn, I feel like they would have been an absolute idiot to do that.
“No, no one special. I dated a few guys here and there while I was in college. No one serious, though. I was married to the game. It was more important for me to stay involved with soccer than with some guy.”
“Do you still feel married to the game?” I’m asking more for myself than anything else. And I really don’t know how I will sit here if she still says she is married to the game.
She smirks at me. “I feel a tremendous amount of pressure being here in Tampa. A new team in a state that already has anNWSL team—it’s not an easy feat. The people of Tampa don’t necessarily want us here. They have the Orlando Pride. So, Ineed to make sure I do my job and make it all go well. I can’t fail.”
“You meanwecan’t fail,” I say to her. “It’s a team sport, and it takes all eleven of you out there on the field to make it work.” I reach across the table and rub a fingertip over her hand where it rests on the table.
“Did you take the article because it was assigned to you or was it because of me?”
“Yes” is all I reply.
Mac rolls her eyes at me. “I knew I wouldn’t get a straight answer.”
“Hate to break it to you, baby, but I’m not the one who needs to answer the questions.”
Chapter Twenty-One
~MAC~
