“Hmm, I might have believed that before, but now I think there’s more to Legend James than meets the eye.”
He let out a big sigh then frowned. “Look, Rook, I guess it will all have to remain a mystery. One of those things that will come out in my memoirs after I’m dead.” He grinned, liking the idea of having someone care to read a memoir about him. “It’ll be studied in the football hall of fame.”
She blanched. “Ha. Ha. Well, you don’t have to worry that I’ll uncover any secrets. You’ve seen to it that I’ll be relegated to fluff articles the rest of my life.”
Guilt tugged at him. “I do feel badly about that.”
She moved up the steps. “Whatever.”
He followed. “What will you do now?”
She stopped again. “Not be a reporter for The New York Times .”
He almost ran into her and muttered, “There are a lot of steps up to his house.”
“That’s Park City. It started as a mining town, and that’s how these kinds of towns were built back then, on both sides of the mountain and close to the mine.”
“It’s crazy.”
“Look, don’t worry about me. I’ll find another job.”
“What about Dallas?” He knew he sounded more desperate than curious, and he sucked in a breath, not knowing why he had asked that.
Humor licked at the edges of her smile. “Better watch out, people might think you feel bad for the reporter whose head you were demanding only a day ago.”
He realized he did feel bad. He hadn’t remembered that she had asked for an interview or that he’d really dated that many girls. It all sounded ridiculous now. “I really am sorry. I could put in a good word somewhere in Dallas. I’m sure they’d hire you.”
She clicked her tongue. “And have to agree to follow you around for exclusives every second, talk about what kind of whey protein you drink after a work-out? Or how many speed dates you go on your first year out? Pshaa, I don’t think so.”
It sounded good to him. “C’mon, I’d actually talk to you this time.”
She laughed, and a sad smile spread across her face. “Thanks, but no.”
A strange feeling went through him. One that he usually only felt if Coach was bringing in a new player that was vying for his position. “Is this about Paul?”
A half smile crossed her lips. “You act like you’ve just uncovered something.”
She pushed over a large ceramic frog that was perched against the front door, bent and picked up a key. Then she opened the door and put the key back.
Legend suddenly understood what it might feel like to be a reporter, searching for the truth through the muck in people’s lives, because he needed to find out more about this boyfriend. “Fine, Ms. Saint, I’ll ask the blunt question. Are you still in love with Paul?”
She took a step into her house, not inviting him to come in. “How dare you!”
“How come I didn’t hear you talk to him on your cell phone yesterday?” he grilled.
She frowned. “My love life isn’t any of your business.”
“Ha!” he pushed out, not finding this tidbit of information very helpful or likeable in the least bit. “Well!” He pushed out another breath. “You won’t even answer the question. What is a reporter supposed to do now?”
“You’re kinda talking loudly,” she whispered and leaned back into the house, suddenly giggling.
He felt ridiculous, but he smiled. “Well, maybe I’m writing an article on your love life. I mean, c’mon. It’s not fair you know everything about me.”
The side of her lip quirked up. “Really?”
He nodded as if it could be true. “So out with it, Ms. Saint. I know you and Victor were involved. Now tell me about this Paul.” He put his hands up. “And are there any other men should I know about?”
Evidently finding him hilarious, she giggled more. “Oh my, I think you should give up football and become a reporter.”
He stepped closer to her, acting like he was just trying to get under her skin, but he cared more
He let out a big sigh then frowned. “Look, Rook, I guess it will all have to remain a mystery. One of those things that will come out in my memoirs after I’m dead.” He grinned, liking the idea of having someone care to read a memoir about him. “It’ll be studied in the football hall of fame.”
She blanched. “Ha. Ha. Well, you don’t have to worry that I’ll uncover any secrets. You’ve seen to it that I’ll be relegated to fluff articles the rest of my life.”
Guilt tugged at him. “I do feel badly about that.”
She moved up the steps. “Whatever.”
He followed. “What will you do now?”
She stopped again. “Not be a reporter for The New York Times .”
He almost ran into her and muttered, “There are a lot of steps up to his house.”
“That’s Park City. It started as a mining town, and that’s how these kinds of towns were built back then, on both sides of the mountain and close to the mine.”
“It’s crazy.”
“Look, don’t worry about me. I’ll find another job.”
“What about Dallas?” He knew he sounded more desperate than curious, and he sucked in a breath, not knowing why he had asked that.
Humor licked at the edges of her smile. “Better watch out, people might think you feel bad for the reporter whose head you were demanding only a day ago.”
He realized he did feel bad. He hadn’t remembered that she had asked for an interview or that he’d really dated that many girls. It all sounded ridiculous now. “I really am sorry. I could put in a good word somewhere in Dallas. I’m sure they’d hire you.”
She clicked her tongue. “And have to agree to follow you around for exclusives every second, talk about what kind of whey protein you drink after a work-out? Or how many speed dates you go on your first year out? Pshaa, I don’t think so.”
It sounded good to him. “C’mon, I’d actually talk to you this time.”
She laughed, and a sad smile spread across her face. “Thanks, but no.”
A strange feeling went through him. One that he usually only felt if Coach was bringing in a new player that was vying for his position. “Is this about Paul?”
A half smile crossed her lips. “You act like you’ve just uncovered something.”
She pushed over a large ceramic frog that was perched against the front door, bent and picked up a key. Then she opened the door and put the key back.
Legend suddenly understood what it might feel like to be a reporter, searching for the truth through the muck in people’s lives, because he needed to find out more about this boyfriend. “Fine, Ms. Saint, I’ll ask the blunt question. Are you still in love with Paul?”
She took a step into her house, not inviting him to come in. “How dare you!”
“How come I didn’t hear you talk to him on your cell phone yesterday?” he grilled.
She frowned. “My love life isn’t any of your business.”
“Ha!” he pushed out, not finding this tidbit of information very helpful or likeable in the least bit. “Well!” He pushed out another breath. “You won’t even answer the question. What is a reporter supposed to do now?”
“You’re kinda talking loudly,” she whispered and leaned back into the house, suddenly giggling.
He felt ridiculous, but he smiled. “Well, maybe I’m writing an article on your love life. I mean, c’mon. It’s not fair you know everything about me.”
The side of her lip quirked up. “Really?”
He nodded as if it could be true. “So out with it, Ms. Saint. I know you and Victor were involved. Now tell me about this Paul.” He put his hands up. “And are there any other men should I know about?”
Evidently finding him hilarious, she giggled more. “Oh my, I think you should give up football and become a reporter.”
He stepped closer to her, acting like he was just trying to get under her skin, but he cared more
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