Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 31113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 156(@200wpm)___ 124(@250wpm)___ 104(@300wpm)
"Jesus."
He's a legend. Literally. The man is a hall-of-fame sports reporter. He died over a decade ago in a car accident…leaving behind a son and the little girl who used to follow him everywhere. Shit. She's that little girl. She used to play under the anchor desk while they were on the air.
"Do you really think her dreams involve reporting on inane gossip?" Kelsey asks, eyeing me critically. "Professional male athletes get million-dollar contracts. Female athletes are lucky if they break one hundred thousand a year. You guys get arenas and entire channels dedicated to your sports; women barely get news coverage. Male reporters get analyst positions, women spend their lives reporting on the sidelines."
"Shit," I mumble, my stomach sinking like a fucking stone. She's right.
"She's paying her dues because that's what women still have to do in this field, especially with men like her boss calling the shots," Kelsey continues. "She got picked up by ESPN because they're trying to diversify and offer more female-friendly programming, and female fans love her. ESPN wanted to capitalize on that, and her program was a sure bet since it comes with virtually no production costs for them. But everyone knows her boss is a sexist pig. And Jamie doesn't exactly look like she's living the dream from where I'm sitting. You can see it in her eyes. She isn't happy."
She's right. Jamie puts on a good show, but I've been watching her long enough to know that it is a show. Her smile isn't real. And the light in her eyes dims a little more every day. She isn't the same vivacious girl she was when she first started eleven months ago. Her light is fading.
"I'm an asshole." No, I'm whatever comes after asshole. I'm the dingleberry. She's just trying to chase her dreams the only way she can, and I basically called her my enemy. I probably made her feel like shit when all she's trying to do is her damn job in a field that doesn't make it easy. That pig fucker is smothering it out of her…and I've been letting it happen.
Jesus. I had her in my arms and, like an idiot, I let her go. I told her to go.
"Where are you going?" Kelsey demands when I jump to my feet, heading for the door. "I thought you wanted to know about Theo's crisis."
"Later," I growl. "I have something to do."
I have to fix this. Right goddamn now.
Chapter Four
Jamie
"Delivery for you."
I glance up from my computer screen to see Mallory O'Neal standing in the doorway to my office, a giant bouquet of flowers in her arms. She toddles in on her tiptoes, trying to see over the top of the vivid pink and purple blooms.
"For me?" I gape, convinced she's mistaken. "Are you sure?"
"Positive." She deposits the crystal vase on the edge of my desk and beams at me. "The card has your name on it." Her bright smile causes her eyes to crinkle at the corners. "Tell whoever they're from that he can send me flowers any day. These are gorgeous." She strokes a finger gently along the petal of a pink rose and then waves and slips out of my office, pulling the door closed behind her.
I stare at the flowers, overwhelmed. No one has ever sent me flowers before. Well, that's not true. Veronica sends me flowers on my birthday every year. But these are…wow. Bright pink and purple lilies, carnations, and roses mix with white sinuata statice, leatherleaf fern, and lemon leaf in a stunning display. A small card nestles between the blooms. Like Mallory said, my name is scrawled across the front.
I pluck it from the arrangement with shaking hands and tear open the envelope.
Jamie,
I'm the world's biggest asshole. I'm sorry.
-J
Jonas Michaud sent me flowers to apologize. For what? Kissing me? Calling me his enemy? My mind spins through the possibilities. And then I see his phone number scrawled across the bottom of the card.
I hesitate for a split second before I grab my phone and type it in. And then I hesitate again, not sure what to text him or if he even put his number there for me to use. Maybe it's there for the flower shop in case they have questions?
Screw it.
Me: Thank you for the flowers. They're beautiful.
His reply comes so quickly I nearly jump out of my seat.
Jonas: They don't even compare to you in that dress last night, angel.
Jonas: Can I call you?
Me: I'm at work.
Jonas: When do you get off?
I glance at the clock on my computer, checking the time. It's only two in the afternoon. This day is dragging by…mostly because I've been avoiding the arena all dang day. I put in an appearance outside of Theo's house earlier in the morning, but I didn't stick around long. It was a madhouse out there. And I've been following the Predators for long enough to know that Theo Kline isn't going to stroll out and have a chat with the paparazzi lined up outside his gates. They're wasting their time.