Excerpt from Chasing Headlines
Olivia
Silverado Senior Center
I made my way to the front desk, arriving right on time for my seven-thirty appointment.
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 in the entrance of the main building.
I’m sure the sun made it bright and warm during the daytime hours.
Once the desert-grade fireball relented, the night curtained the area in shadows. Looking at it, the space seemed…chilly.
Potted trees, a large water fountain, I’m sure it was nice—and soothing. A yawn overtook me. Geez, I was tired. Stayed up too late editing reels for the Strikers baseball socmed 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. I must’ve damaged my retinas on those socmed reels—because my eyes were mistakenly telling the over-tired brain matter 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 potted 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 are you here?”
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.
“You have ID?” A little smirk toyed with his lips.
I frowned. “Seriously?”
“I have to check ID.” He sat back and tucked his hands behind his head.
I shrugged. Not like I gave a shit. I pulled my student ID out and held it up. He didn’t look at it. “State or federal.”
I stared at the card. “It’s issued by a state institution.”
“Nope. Needs to be a State of Texas issued ID card, drivers’ license or federal passport.” He was full-on smirking. Like he’d won. Hah.
I dug into my purse for my wallet. “You’re not getting rid of me.”
“I will outlast you. I promise—”
I slapped my driver’s license on the counter. He opened his mouth to say something, then his eyes fell on my hard-won and very official Texas drivers’ license. Spent a whole, bland daytime television day in Lubbock County to get it.
“You actually—”
“Yeah, Cooper. I got a Texas driver’s license.” Adrenaline turned my blood hot and my acrobatic stomach flipped into a pool of simmering stew. “Figured I was going to be here for four years, and it’s not like I have anyplace else I’d call home.”
He frowned and pushed the license back at me. “Fine. Go find your interview.” He fixed me with a razor-sharp look. “Try being human.”
I seethed. “Look who’s talking, ass.”
“Bite me.”
“No, thanks.” I snagged my license. “I hear you’re poisonous.” I called out over my shoulder as I walked away.
Ugh! How could one person be so aggravatingly obnoxious and-and!
Irritating, smug, a total asinine jerkwad?
I got to the door, yanked on the handle with a huff, but it wouldn’t open.
I tried again, but it didn’t budge. I took my temper out on the door for a half second, pulling and jiggling and mentally willing the blasted thing to magically open.
I turned and puffed hair out of my face. “Do you need to unlock the door or something?”
“I’m on my lunch break.” His mouth twitched. He gestured at an apple perched on the edge of the counter, then picked it up, studying it. “You’ll have to wait. Or you could leave.” He bit into it.
Another time I might have admired those thick, juicy lips practically kissing the pinkish-tan flesh of that fruit. His tongue darting out of his mouth as he bit into juicy, crispy appleness. My stomach growled. When did I last eat?
He dropped his head toward his shoulder as he chewed. His eyes had the nerve to twinkle as he stared. And my traitorous skin flushed hot all over.
I wanted to wring his neck, take his apple and kiss him—into next week. Or just wring his neck. Argh!
Instead, I smiled through pressed lips and batted my eyelashes.
“I can wait. It’ll give us a chance to spend more time together.
” I shrugged and took a few steps toward him.
“I’ll just pull up a chair and keep you company while you eat.
” I grabbed my phone from my purse. “Or, since I can’t meet with Mrs. Schreiber, I could just, you know, interview you, Cooper. ”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. “No comment.”
“Stop being a child and let me in.”
He took another bite of apple and chewed.
God, I hated him. He left me no choice but to do exactly what I’d threatened. I moved to grab a chair from against the wall. As soon as I picked it up, a buzzing sound rung out. The click of a lock. Ah-ha! I turned and shuffled toward the door. I grasped the handle, and—
Ca-clack. I pulled. Locked.
“It only stays unlocked for a few seconds.” He made a “tsk” sound. “Guess you missed it.”
I closed my eyes, took in a deep breath. He’d done that on purpose. “Would you please open the door, again?”
“You had your chance.”
Fine. If that was the way he was going to play it. I’d lettered in track in high school as a sprinter. The door was likely on a fifteen second delay. I could still win this.
I dropped my bag on the ground by the door—then unbuttoned the two top buttons on my blouse and adjusted…
things. I pulled the scrunchy from my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders.
I spun around, hiked up my skirt to mid-thigh and did my best Dublin Serra, runway model, impression—toward him.
“You know, I never properly thanked you.” I lowered my lashes and swung my hips as I walked.
Cooper sat up in his chair. I glanced at the counter and found the button for the door, then met his eyes.
“Your shirt, I love to wear it when I’m alone.
” Did that sound sexy? I felt rather idiotic, but his gaze traveled lower as I continued my saunter.
Maybe this was working? I needed to distract him, just for a fraction of a second.
He cleared his throat. His chair spun to face me. Those powerful thighs in scrub pants curved over the edge of the seat. His legs shifted as I grew closer, moving further apart. His shoes perched on top of the casters. Perfect.
He met my gaze as I leaned over him, placing one hand on the back of his chair. His pupils dilated. I dipped closer—into his very personal space. “I sleep in it at night.” I breathed against his ear. “Your shirt, Breslin.”
His breath hitched. Something thudded onto the floor. His mouth opened and his tongue licked at his bottom lip. “And only…” Something magnetic pulled at me, urging me closer.
My heart thudded wildly. The heat from his skin, his woodsy, masculine scent, the faint sweetness of the apple I could likely taste on his tongue. If I just…moved a bit…closer.
…to be continued…