Page 62 of Chasing Headlines
“Three players. Pick three and I'll answer next time.”
“Deal. Tell Lucy I said hi and thanks for putting up with you.” I laughed.
“Uh-huh. Love you, too,” he said with a huff.
“Thanks, Curt.” I disconnected the line and hoped he realized how much I meant it.
I made my way to the front desk, arriving right on time for my seven-thirty appointment. I should have been here a few minutes earlier. I glanced around at the muted colors and tile floor. A bustling nervous center of energy, this place was not. An atrium-like area sat off to the side of the front of the main building. I'm sure the sun made it bright and warm during the daytime hours. Once the desert fireball relented, the night curtained the area in shadows. Looking at it, the space seemed . . . chilly.
Potted plants, a large water fountain, I bet it was nice—and soothing. A yawn overtook me. Geez I was tired. Stayed up too late editing reels for the Strikers baseball social media accounts.
I blinked my eyes and wished for some coffee. Mrs. P had taken to hounding me every day for my Founders’ Day pitch. If I didn't do what I'd promised, my grade would suffer. And with the exhibition game playing on Founders’ Day, there was no doubt in my mind that my performance on this Founders’ Day article and my hopeful assignment to the baseball beat were inexorably linked. Something I hadn't actually known when I made the agree?—
I stopped short and stared at the figure behind the desk. I blinked and tried to refocus. My brain had clearly spent too much time editing baseball reels. Because my eyes were currently telling the over-tired brain residing between my ears that one Breslin Cooper was sitting behind the front desk.
“Not possible.”
His head lifted. Those dark midnight eyes found my gaze. I gasped and turned toward the Ficus tree. My stomach did a series of flips as I held out my hand to cup a leaf in my palm. A rubber one.Yep, I am here, examining the leaves of a fake plant. Why why why?I scrunched my eyes closed and lifted my head. Maybe it was a doppelganger? An evil twin. Or was the baseball player evil and maybe this one was nice. “If this is a nightmare. Please let me wake up.” I hissed under my breath at my new plant bestie.
“Why areyouhere?”
Nope. Not a dream and not the nice twin. I pulled my face into what I hoped looked like a smile that dripped acid as I approached the desk. “No comment.”
He rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “I don't really care. They make me ask. And in your case, I could have security escort you out. Probably should. Reporters are?—”
“Lying snakes in the grass? Yep, heard it. Really should find some new material. You've never been very amusing.”
“Yeah, we're not on campus. This is harassment. I'm calling security.” His hand on the phone almost looked convincing.
“I have an appointment.” The words rushed from my lips.
He glared at me. “No, you don't.”
“I do. With Dorotea Vachon, er Schreiber. I'm writing a Founders’ Day article on the founding family and I'm here to interview her. She's expecting me, just ask her.”
“She goes by Dotty.” Those hands, large and rough and masculine closed the book on his desk. I made a face at the evil ECON textbook.
Seriously has all the makings of a nightmare.
Our eyes met for a moment. Those dark irises held flecks of gold. Long eyelashes framed a hooded stare. I could seriously get lost in—Nope.
I blinked and forced my gaze away from his face—and that chiseled jaw peppered with a dark bit of tantalizing scruff.
He cleared his throat. I looked at him again. He held out a pen.
“What?” I shuffled back a step.
“You have to sign in.”
I gripped the strap of my bag with both hands. “Isn't there an app?”
He dropped the pen on the counter. “No. You have to pick the thing up and hold the pointy end against the paper like a normal person.”
“I think I liked it better when all you said was 'no comment'.”
One eyebrow lifted.
I took a shaky breath and signed my name on the form.