She stormed toward me. “You arrogant, pretentious, narcissistic—”
“Is there an ending to your rant?” I crossed my arms over my chest.
She had some sort of pink scarf thing tied at the top of her head.
Her tan face was free of makeup, and the woman was flawless.
Stunning.
Yet here she was, once again, invading my space.
I’d had her removed from the press conference after she’d crossed the line, and she’d stayed away ever since then. I’d hoped she’d gotten the message.
“For your information, I live here,” she said, flailing her arms.
“Is that your story?”
She just stared at me and started backing away as if she couldn’t stand the sight of me.
The feeling’s mutual, sweetheart.
She may be hot as hell, but she was just another bloodsucking reporter out to make a buck at my expense.
“What’s it like to live in a world where you don’t see beyond yourself?” she asked, raising a brow as she held a cup filled with pink liquid in one hand.
“Are you seriously trying to interview me now? I promise you, if anyone finds out I’m here, I’ll file a restraining order against you so fast, your pretty little head will spin.”
Did I need to compliment her when I was threatening her?
“Do you seriously think I’m here for work? That I’m here for you?” she said, shaking her head.
There were grass stains on the knees of her denim overalls and what looked like a bit of dirt on her nose. Was this all a plan to make it appear that she was here on vacation?
“Nice try, sweetheart. Once a bloodsucker, always a bloodsucker. Get back in your car and go home.”
Something crossed over her features, and for a minute, it looked like her eyes were watering. But she quickly hardened, narrowing her gaze at me. The teenager behind the counter, who’d made my sandwich and drink and giggled endlessly just minutes ago, was watching us intently. If I wasn’t mistaken, it looked like she was shooting daggers at me, as well.
What kind of establishment allowed a man to get stalked and then shamed him for it?
“You are so out of line, and you don’t even know it. I hope karma kicks you in the ass. And for the record, I’m not going anywhere. I grew up here, you arrogant prick. So, if you don’t want to see me, I suggest you hightail it out of town. Because in Cottonwood Cove, the Reynolds’ are a bigger deal than you are, hotshot.” She smirked and whipped around, long, brown hair falling down her back.
“Nice try. Go back to the city. There’s no story here.” I couldn’t peel my eyes off her ass as she stormed to the door.
She held her hand high in the air and flipped me the bird as she pushed outside.
What the fuck was this?
I’d only been in Cottonwood Cove for thirty minutes.
How’d she even know that I was here?
I settled back in my chair as the young blonde behind the counter stormed over with a pitcher in her hand and reached for my glass. I hadn’t asked for a refill, but she didn’t seem to care whether I wanted one or not.
She just glared at me as if I were some kind of criminal.
“Do you allow your customers to get harassed by reporters here? Maybe I picked the wrong town to escape to.” I reached for my glass after she set it down.
“I don’t know who you are, but I’ve known Brinkley Reynolds my whole life. She used to babysit me when I was little. And she is a reporter, but she isn’t working at the moment because she lost her job. She just moved back home a few weeks ago. I think you misread that one big time, Mister.”
Brinkley Reynolds. Yes. Now I remembered the name.
Mister? What was I, a hundred years old? I was twenty-fucking-nine. No one called me mister.
I leaned back in my chair as I processed her words.
“Do you know why she lost her job?” I cleared my throat and braced for her answer.
“Some big, famous football player called her out publicly, and her boss let her go. We’re not supposed to talk about it, but here in Cottonwood Cove, we all have one another’s backs. Word gets around, you know? I don’t know who this guy is, because I don’t much care for sports with balls.”
What the fuck did that even mean? She’d ruled out half the sports known to man.
She couldn’t be more than sixteen years old, and she glared at me once more before marching away.
Had I actually gotten this woman fired? It hadn’t been my first time griping about a journalist crossing the line. But I sure as shit didn’t know she’d lose her job for it.
I picked up my phone and texted Drew.
Hey. Remember that reporter I had escorted out of the press conference a few weeks back?
Drew
Not really. I was dealing with my own shit that day, with everyone hounding me about you. What about her?
I think she got fired.
Drew
Well, she shouldn’t have followed you into the shitter.
I scrubbed a hand down the back of my neck, letting out a long breath I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding. My mother had been a single mom, and she’d worked her ass off while trying to raise me at the same time. That had been a driving force in my signing with the NFL and being able to help her out and take that pressure off her shoulders. And I sure as shit was not a guy who wanted to cost anyone their livelihood.
I’m not a complete dick. I wouldn’t want to be the reason anyone lost their job.
Drew
How do you know she got fired?
I just ran into her. Here. She fucking lives here.
Drew
She does? What’s her name?
Brinkley Reynolds.
Drew
Holy fuck. She’s a Cottonwood Cove Reynolds?
What the fuck does that mean?
Drew
Everyone knows the Reynolds. Their kids are all rock stars, and they're practically royalty there. Her brother opened a big restaurant that people from the city drive to because the food’s so damn good. And the family owns another bar and a restaurant, I think. One of the brothers is an up-and-coming actor. Someone’s a doctor. One does something in the book world, and now that you mention it, I think one of them is a journalist.
Great. You sent me to a town with the woman I kicked out of the press conference and proceeded to get her fired? And her family is practically fucking royalty here?
Drew
<head exploding emoji> <shrugging hands emoji>
Drew
Relax, brother. Keep a low profile. It’ll be fine. Do you want me to try to call her boss and get her her job back?
Do you know who she even worked for?
Drew
No. But I can find out. You’re Lincoln fucking Hendrix. You got her fired. I’m sure we can use your name to get her rehired. I like seeing this human side of you. The one where you feel bad when you’re an asshole.
Fuck off. I’m not a total dick, am I?
Drew
Do you want the truth? You do pay me to tell you that you’re amazing.
Then why do you constantly tell me I’m an asshole?
Drew
Kidding, brother. You’ve got the biggest heart around. You just hide it really well. I’ll see what I can find out.
Thanks. I’m heading to the house now if the teenager at the coffee shop doesn’t put a hit out on me for accusing Brinkley Reynolds of stalking me.
Drew
Wow. You really are a dick.