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  “Shitty.”

  Mason glared at me. “How you feel about being in Oklahoma—”

  “Double shitty.”

  “Trey,” Mason growled. He fixed me with his eyes and I dropped my smirk. “This is your chance for a fresh start. Get away from Kimberly, the bar fights, the bad boy rep, and all the rest of the bullshit you’ve stirred up in California. It’s gone. Over. Done. Get the hell over it and start acting your age. You want to be a ball player five years from now? Then suit up, shut up, and get your head back in the game.”

  I glowered at Mason. I hated to admit it, but he was right. Oklahoma City was the last place on earth I’d wanted to be, but in about twenty minutes, we’d touch down and the sooner I accepted that…the sooner I could get things back on track. “So, what am I supposed to do? Smile? Act like I’m at fuckin’ Disneyland?”

  “No,” Mason replied, his tone still terse. He leaned back in his seat and snapped his laptop shut. “No one is expecting you to be happy here. But don’t bash on the entire city at large, call it a cow town, or talk shit about your new team—or your old one, for that matter.”

  “So I should just stay in my perfect little box?” I drawled.

  “Be gracious. For once in your life, Trey. Be genteel. Talk about it being a new opportunity, a fresh start. Throw out some platitude about turning over a new leaf. People eat that shit up. No problem. Make them like you. Hell, even just tolerating you at this point would be a step in the right direction.”

  I watched out the window as we dropped lower. It was worth a shot. What else could I possibly lose?

  4

  Josie

  If I had to watch one more sports clip on ESPN, I was going to lose my flipping mind.

  After I finally accepted that there was no way around the dumb-ass assignment from Mr. Jones to wheedle my way into getting an exclusive, sit down interview with Trey Delgado—I dove in with both feet. If I had to do sports—I was going to do it better than anyone else!

  In preparation, I’d spent three days doing nothing but watching his previous interviews and old highlight reels. After I conquered the knowledge of his career, I turned my attention to reading about his personal life via a stack of tabloid magazines and combing through all of the sports star gossip websites. At the end of it, I deduced that not only was Trey a douchebag, and a mess off the field, playing the part of a womanizing, ass hat—but according to his stats, he was rapidly falling from his place of former glory on the field as well.

  I wasn’t much of a sports fan, but I did grow up in a house full of boys and knew enough about baseball to question why the Warriors had even bothered scooping Trey up from the Coyotes. From the outside, he looked like nothing but trouble. The Warriors were currently on the way up, and I couldn’t imagine Trey being anything but dead weight for them.

  But then again…he did knock the ball out of the park at Cody Wright’s debut game with the Warriors, so he couldn’t be that bad. And Cody had taken the reins and the whole team rallied behind him, so this trade could turn into a huge win for the team—or a total clusterfuck.

  The buzz surrounding the team was that they might even make a playoffs push. From that point of view, I could see where adding a veteran player, and a five-time home run champ, like Trey, would make sense. But according to my research, Trey wasn’t that player anymore. And hadn’t been for a while. On top of that, he brought a truckload of baggage in the form of snark-filled press pieces, bad behavior, and an ongoing paternity suit that was about as public as it could get.

  Whatever the Warriors were thinking, it sure as hell wasn’t my call on whether or not it was a good idea. I didn’t give a rat’s ass if the team won or lost. All I needed was one interview. If I could get that—Mr. Jones would have to follow through on his promise to jump start my career.

  Now I needed to figure out how on earth I was going to get Trey Delgado to agree to give me an exclusive.

  In all of my research, the handful of interviews I’d managed to dig up were short, clipped, and gave me the impression Trey was irritated from the first question. The tabloids portrayed a happy go lucky, party animal persona. Every picture showed him laughing, smiling, and generally living it up. However, in official interview appearances, he was a completely different person. His eyes lost the warm sparkle and became stony and cold. I sure as hell didn’t want to be on the receiving end of his death stare. It appeared that any interview he gave was at the request—or ultimatum—of his PR team. All he gave was the bare minimum. With that in mind, I knew my best chance of scoring an interview would be to get in touch with somebody on his PR team. Which is exactly what I’d been trying to do for the last three days.

  Damn it! None of them would take my calls. I didn’t have enough clout as a reporter and I had no credit when it came to the sports world. I’d had enough of “yes, Miss, I’ll have them call you back,” to last me a lifetime.

  After I made my way through my call list, I hung up the phone and grumbled to myself, damn near pouting at the bustling coffee shop around me. I was about to hang it up for the day and go down the street for a grocery run, when my phone rang. I leaped for it, spilling hot coffee on my hand in the process. “Ouch!” I set my cup down and accepted the call. I pushed the phone up against my ear while I mopped up my coffee mess. “This is Josie.”

  “Jo, it’s Danny. Where are you?”

  I sighed. I’d hoped it was one of Trey’s people finally getting back to me. Instead, it was Daniel Paulson, my new camera man. He was the poor unfortunate soul tasked with following me around in my pursuit of Trey Delgado. Luckily for me, he was a nice guy. He was a little over six feet tall, in his late twenties, with a friendly smile, and an easy-going personality. He’d been after me for a coffee date the entire six months he’d been working at the station. I didn’t dislike him, but I wasn’t interested in dating him—or anyone else—for the time being. He didn’t seem to take it too hard though. Which was good. Otherwise this entire interview slash photographer thing would be totally awkward.

  I set aside the used napkins. “I’m at Starbucks. What’s up?”

  “Well, I just got a call from one of my buddies. He works security for the airstrip just outside the city. A lot of stars and famous people use it for chartered jets. And Mr. Hollywood is going to be touching down in about twenty minutes. So drop everything and let’s get over there!”

  My heart slammed against my chest. Twenty minutes? That wasn’t enough time to go home and shower or change. It wasn’t like Trey was the kind of guy to stand around on the tarmac and hold court for an hour. If I knew anything about him—which after days of research, I did—he’d hurry off to his ride as soon as humanly possible. If I had a shot at getting his attention, I had to be front and center. I glanced down at my outfit. Cut off denim shorts, a black tank top, and my faded, old pair of cowboy boots. It definitely wasn’t the look I wanted for my on-screen debut. But what choice did I have? There was no way Danny was the only one who knew about Trey’s flight. The rest of the media would pick up the scent and be there as well. Trey Delgado was the biggest piece of news in Oklahoma right now. Everyone and their dang mother were talking about his trade. I’d have to haul ass if I wanted to get a shot at him.

  I put the phone on speaker so that I could use both hands to pack up my laptop and notebook and shove them into my messenger bag. “Okay. I’m at the Starbucks by the mall. Can you come grab me? I walked here.”

  “You got it, Jo. See you in five.”

  I clicked off of the call and finished packing up. When that was done, I went to the bathroom and tried to make sense of my hair. After my morning run, I’d rinsed it in the shower and piled it back on top of my head. I tugged out the elastic band and let my damp waves fall down around my shoulders down past my shoulders. “Good grief,” I muttered, frantically untangling the sections. “That’s literally as good as it’s going to get…” I sighed.

  I hurried back out of the store and spotted Danny rounding the corn
er in one of the station’s news vans. I waited for the light to change and then broke into a run to cross the street just as he pulled up to the opposite curb. Danny’s window was rolled down and he leaned out to give me a wolf whistle. “Damn, Jo! That’s one way to get Trey’s attention!”

  I growled in reply and raced around the front bumper and pulled the passenger side door. It was locked. I shot a glare at Danny and he scrambled to unlock it. I threw the door open, hoisted myself into the bucket seat, and slammed the door. “No cracks about my clothes. It’s too fuckin’ hot, and believe me, I’m already mortified and I haven’t even done anything yet. Just keep the camera off my ass, all right?”

  Danny let out a peel of laughter as he merged into traffic. “No promises.”

  I elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. That shut him up.

  I had three older brothers and was not opposed to throwing an elbow or a knee when needed. Most people underestimated me because I was only five feet two inches, but that was a huge mistake on their part. My three older brothers all hovered at the six foot mark and taught me how to be scrappy. It was a necessity for survival—especially at the dinner table.

  Danny sped out of town and I started digging in the back of the van. “Where’s my mic pack? I’ll get hooked up while you drive.”

  “Third drawer,” he replied, not even glancing over. He kept his truck organized and pristine.

  I grabbed the mic and went to work, running the wire up under my shirt, and watched Danny out of the corner of my eye to make sure he was watching the road and not my bared midriff. “Let me ask you something,” I said, lowering my shirt.

  “Shoot.”

  “How’d you get roped into babysitting me?”

  Danny laughed. “Would you believe me if I said I requested it?”

  “What? Why would you do that?”

  Danny glanced over at me and offered a smile. “’Cause I think you’re gonna nail this story and I want dibs on the image credits.”

  “Mmhmm.” I arched a brow at him. “So it has nothing to do with my repeated rejection of your coffee date invite?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. Although I do figure we’ll be doing plenty of coffee runs together.”

  I rolled my eyes and rested my head back, only to straighten again. I couldn’t relax. Everything inside of me was like a tightly wound spring, ready to explode. “Trust me, I don’t plan on this being a long running gig. I don’t even know why Mr. Jones put me on this.”

  “He’s testing you, Jo.”

  I turned to him. “Testing me? Why would he do that? What do you know about it?”

  He shrugged. “It’s the same everywhere. My last station was the same way. The bosses test the new talent. You have to earn your airtime. You can’t go waving around your degree and demanding it.”

  “Ouch!” I winced. That was exactly what I’d done.

  Danny chuckled. “Don’t worry, Jo. We’ll get it done and then you can ditch me and run off to chase the big stories.”

  I laughed. “I’m not trying to ditch you, Danny. If we make a good team, who knows, this might be a long term thing.”

  He glanced over and flashed me a sideways grin.

  “Working together, I mean,” I hurried to add.

  He just laughed and took the next exit off the highway.

  Right at the top of the hour, we pulled into a parking spot at the small, private airstrip. Danny threw the van into park and I was already flying out the door. “Come on! Come on!” I prodded, tugging at the hem of my shorts. Good lord…This better be worth it.

  Danny grabbed his camera and I turned my mic on. “Testing…”

  He nodded, tapping at his earbud. “Got ya.”

  I blew out a long, slow breath. “Here goes nothin’…”

  Danny gave me a half-cocked grin. “You’ll be great.”

  “Well, first, I have to manage to get his attention. Looks like we’re a little late to the party,” I replied, pointing beyond the chain link security fence to show a gaggle of reports gathered in front of one of the hangars.

  “Come on. There’s no way he’s gonna miss you. Not in that.”

  I gritted my teeth together and marched toward the front doors of the airport. We flashed our press badges and Danny’s friend led us out to the hangar where the rest of the media teams were assembled. The private jet was taxiing down the runway. Within minutes, Trey Delgado would come out and I’d have ten, maybe fifteen minutes to try and get his attention. If I could get a snippet of conversation with him on camera it would be a great start.

  “He doesn’t do interviews,” one of the other reporters whispered over my shoulder.

  “Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t try to smash our camera,” her partner replied.

  Obviously, I wasn’t the only one worried. Danny on the other hand, was cool and confident, his camera hoisted on his shoulder like a seasoned pro. Not a drop of sweat on his brow. He caught me looking at him and flashed a smile. “It’ll be fine.”

  I nodded. Right. Fine. Not career ending. The plane came to a stop and the media teams surged forward.

  “Showtime,” Danny said in my ear.

  5

  Trey

  The pilot announced we were safe to exit the plane and Mason unlocked his seat belt. I stayed glued in my seat; my shoulders pressed against the back of the seat. Mason eyed me as he packed up his computer. “You coming?”

  I flicked another look out the window and watched the plane get swarmed by the reporters gathered on the runway. I hated reporters. “Do I have a choice?”

  Mason laughed. “Nope. Not a one. Come on.”

  I unbuckled my seatbelt and heaved up from my chair. I stretched my arms over my head and then twisted, releasing the tense muscles in my low back.

  “Remember, be nice, polite, professional. Smile don’t snarl. Give them the ‘new leaf’ or ‘fresh chapter’ bull. Throw in something about the current team and winning the division. I guarantee, if you do that, you’ll have the whole city eating out of your hand.”

  “And that’s…good…?”

  Mason scoffed and shook his head. I heard him mutter something that sounded a lot like ‘asshole’ under his breath. I laughed and clapped him on the back. “I’ll behave, Mase. Don’t worry so much.”

  He gave me a shocked look. “Worry? Why would I worry? Maybe because the last time you met a reporter, you smashed their camera and had to fork over twenty grand to replace it.”

  “They caught me on an off night,” I argued. I’d been coming out a club and a freelance reporter—which was usually code for paparazzi—came rushing up to me and stuck their camera right in my face.

  “I’m not having this argument with you again. Keep it together. For my sake—and yours.”

  I nodded, set my jaw, and followed him down the aisle of the plane. The flight attendant smiled politely at me as I passed by. She was old enough to be my mother. I was sure Mason had requested her over the handful of hotties that usually worked the chartered flights. He obviously didn’t want to give me any leeway to veer off the perfectly planned path he was laying out for me.

  But as soon as I stepped out of the plane, before my feet even hit the first step, I found myself zeroed in on a girl that had trouble written all over her delectable body.

  “Damn!”

  Trouble was standing shoulder to shoulder with the other reporters, a camera man on her right, and I spotted the mic in her hands. I locked onto her blue eyes and smiled as her lips parted. My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach as she nervously licked her lips but couldn’t tear her eyes off of mine. She had long, wavy, auburn hair. Redheads are always a good time, I mused to myself as I drank her in. She stood out because she was drop dead gorgeous, but also because she wasn’t dressed like every other reporter in the crowd. She was wearing a black tank top that showed off a healthy tan and a nice side of cleavage. I descended the stairs, keeping my eyes locked with hers.

  Before I could get to her, I had half a
dozen microphones in my face. Mason tried to make sense of the noise, ushering me off to one side, and then calling forward the reporters so that I wasn’t backed up against the side of the plane.

  “Trey, how do you feel about the trade?”

  “What do you think about relocating to Oklahoma City?”

  “Can we get your take on the Warriors team and how you’re going to fit into the rotation?”

  On and on and on.

  “Ladies, gentleman, Mr. Delgado will be happy to answer your questions, but we need to keep this orderly!” Mason hollered over the chaos.

  I winced against the flashing lightbulbs on the dozen cameras and tried to keep myself together. This was the part of being famous that I hated more than anything. Cameras with their fucking flashes in my face, dumb and repetitive questions—and worst of all, the pushy asshole reporters.

  This was what got me in trouble and made people think I was a dick.

  I found the redhead again; she was damn near swallowed up by the crowd. I smiled as she elbowed through the mess of people and made her way to the front of the pack.

  “Her,” I told Mason. I jutted my chin in her direction. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Mason glanced over at her and gave a halfway roll of his eyes. He knew me too well. He stuffed down any comments he would have liked to make and called the girl forward with a flick of his wrist. “Go ahead, Miss. Channel Six?”

  She looked startled at the sudden shift in attention as the rest of the reporters gave her scorned glares. “Um—yes—thank you. Josie Crawford, Channel Six news. Mr. Delgado, can you tell our viewers what you think of our Warriors?”

  She flushed and then pointed her mic over toward me. “I think they just got a helluva lot better,” I drawled, flashing a winning smile to the crowd as they chuckled.

  Beside me, Mason groaned.

  “No, no. In all seriousness, Miss. Crawford, I think what the team is doing is admirable, unexpected, and I’m looking forward to joining the team and seeing how my skills can help the push to the playoffs this year and for many years to come.”