Good Guy

by Kate Meader

  He pulled her from the chair into his lap and brushed his lips across hers. “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I’m trusting you on this, Jordan. You’re skilled enough to write around the edges.”

  “So, I just keep this secret? Be the one person who knows about your soft, gooey center?”

  “Why not? No one else needs access to what’s in here.” He placed her hand over his heart, guiding her fingertips to absorb the thrum of power within. “Only you, Jordan.”

  Only you.

  She was beginning to think that the warm glow created by this private knowledge was brighter than the need to sprinkle her story with the journalistic gold dust he gave her every day. So, basically a death sentence to her ability to finish this assignment with any semblance of objectivity.

  And while his heart beat strongly beneath her touch, her own was a mushy mess when it came to Levi Hunt.

  22

  “Jordan! Get in here!”

  Jordan knocked over her coffee cup, cursed loudly, and tried to mop it up. She rarely came into the Chicago SportsNet offices, preferring to work from home, which was fine with Mac as long as she turned in her assignments on time. Today, she’d stopped in to chat with Rebecca Voigt, the other female reporter at the network, only to find she’d left early to pick her sick kid up from daycare.

  “I haven’t got all day. Now!”

  Muttering, she headed into Mac’s office.

  “Shut the door.”

  She did as she was told and took a seat even though he hadn’t asked. This was how one of the reporters out in the pen would behave: assume the male privilege of seat-taking without invitation.

  “This Hunt story…”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s good. Nice phrasing, sharp insight. Your game reports and columns have been on the nose as well.”

  “But?” Because she heard it loud and clear.

  “I expected more … dirt. This is on the wrong side of respectful. Too much hero worship.”

  She squirmed, because that was her take on it, too. “He’s a private guy. This was like pulling teeth.”

  “What about the other story?”

  “What other story?”

  He raised a caterpillar-like eyebrow, or she assumed he did. It actually didn’t budge a millimeter. “I heard you’re working on something else. Maybe a players-behaving-badly angle?”

  How would he know that? Maybe Dawson had reached out or one of her sources had tattled.

  “I’ve got a few irons in the fire.” Likely he thought it was something about one of the players screwing around or conduct unbecoming. Would he be as receptive to a story where female reporters were the victims?

  Not victims. She hated that word, so laden with misery. Given how Mac had framed the terms of her employment on Day One, she didn’t think he’d be interested in this angle anyway. She’d come out of it as a bad sport, branded a troublemaker.

  And likely without a job.

  If only she could convince Harper to go on the record about Stroger. Mac would be all over that.

  “For now, I’m focusing on trying to get the inside scoop on the next big trade into the Rebels. Rumors abound.”

  Grunting his semi-approval, Mac held out a marked-up paper copy of her article. “Take another stab at this. See if you can add a bit more shading.”

  “Will do.”

  She left the office, her mind a whirligig. She had plenty of anecdotal evidence about female reporters getting shafted (professionally) or offers to be shafted (sexually), but throwing up a blog post on CSN or a podcast on Hockey Grrl might not get the exposure a story like this deserved. She needed advice—and she knew just who to call.

  * * *

  Jordan waved her coffee cup at Kinsey as she entered the Starbucks to let her know she was covered. Once Kinsey had her caramel macchiato in hand, she kissed Jordan hello, and took a seat at the window.

  “Hey, it feels like ages since we last talked! How goes it in the world of big-time sports reporting?”

  “It goes. I’ve got a few things in the hopper—dick stuff, trade rumors, dick stuff.”

  Kinsey shook her head. “Still with the pecker pics? I’m telling you: name and shame.”

  “And get my social media accounts closed down?”

  “Put it out there with a blur filter but name those asses and cocks now!” A few people sent disapproving glares her way, but Kinsey ignored them. “Unless you think it’s not that serious?”

  “Right now, I have bigger dicks to fry. I need your wise counsel, friend.”

  “Okay, unload, shoot, ejaculate. I’m listening.”

  Jordan grinned. “So I’ve probably got enough data points on the reporter harassment story to do something with it. I could post an online article or a podcast but Coby Dawson offered me an interview spot on SportsFocus. Kind of like a Sixty Minutes-type deal. More publicity. A bigger platform.”

  Kinsey nodded. “Sounds good. What’s the problem?”

  “I can’t help thinking it’s a trap. Something’s in it for Dawson. He says he’s an ally but it feels off.”

  “Maybe you should go with your gut.”

  “Maybe.” She mulled it over for a moment. “Levi was suspicious, too, but that was probably typical male cynicism.”

  Kinsey’s internal antennae must have gone zing because she sat up straighter. “You’ve run this by Levi?”

  “Yeah, and he thinks Dawson has an agenda. An in-my-pants agenda.”

  Kinsey cocked her head and stared.

  Busted.

  “Okay, we’ve done the deed! And before you tell me that I’m now incapable of being unbiased about my story subject, I’ll have you know that … you’d be absolutely right.” She mentally curled up, bracing for Kinsey’s response.

  “Not gonna judge, babe.”

  No worries, because judgment protocol was already activated in Jordan’s muddled mind. “I have great stuff on Levi to make his profile so much more. Upbringing hardship. Current good deeds. Ass cakes! But he doesn’t want me to talk about anything other than hockey. And my editor wants dirt.”

  “Ass cakes?”

  “He bought a birthday cake for Theo shaped like an ass. It was actually really sweet.”

  “Theo’s ass or the cake?” Kinsey sipped her coffee. “Okay, don’t answer that. Sounds like you can’t be unbiased. The heart has no objectivity. I’ve been there.”

  She passed over the heart comment. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s how I met Luke. He’d gotten into a brawl at his bar involving the Chicago Police Department and CFD, and I was brought in to make his firehouse all shiny again.”

  “With a firefighters and kittens calendar?” Jordan remembered it well. The entire country swooned for a week.

  “One of my finest days on the job. And in the meantime, I got involved with him and his family to the point where I had to take sides, and I took theirs. His. And lost my job in the process.”

  Jordan hadn’t known any of this. “Weren’t you working for the mayor of Chicago at the time? You mean he fired you?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And now that same ex-mayor is my brother-in-law and one of my closest friends. Never a dull moment with the Dempseys.”

  “So, it was worth it?”

  “Oh, yeah. But at the time, making that choice was tough. My career was—is—really important, and having to subsume my ambition in deference to a man I was falling in love with was so hard. I’d already moved cross country for my previous fiancé, who promptly dumped me. And now here I was faced with an impossible choice: love or duty.”

  “I’m not in love with Levi.” It was a reflex, more a thing you say rather than mean. She couldn’t deny that she liked him. A lot. But love? No.

  “Maybe not yet, but I can tell there’s something there. Something that’s holding you back from delivering the killer blow. If it was just sex—how is the sex by the way?”

  “Adequate.”

  Kinsey smiled slyly
. “If it was just adequate sex, you wouldn’t be letting him dictate the story. You’d be writing it your way.”

  The truth was an ice-cold latte in the face. Shocking and eye-opening, but probably delicious when you licked your lips. Jordan couldn’t mine the story’s nuggets because she had deep feelings for Levi.

  She’d not dated seriously since Josh died. Losing him had hurt so much and laying her grief to rest had been almost as difficult. Turning over and offering her underbelly with a new romance was pretty low on her list of priorities. Just have fun was the name of the game, even if ‘fun’ wasn’t exactly in Levi’s vocabulary.

  Yet, she loved spending time with him and challenging him to crack, when really she was the one softening. She was the one unfurling under his warm attention.

  “I don’t want to hurt him.” With the story, or in any other way.

  Her friend squeezed her hand. “I know. And you don’t want to get hurt, either. But let’s face it: you haven’t responded to any of my efforts to set you up on a date. Or, your mother’s. Sure, you’re busy and you’re focused on your career, but maybe it’s because your heart is otherwise engaged?”

  “No. Just my hormones,” she said stubbornly.

  Kinsey scrutinized her closely, but didn’t push, thank God. And if she had … Jordan was unsure her rickety defenses would have held.

  23

  Tonight on @HockeyGrrl: the man, the legend, @TheTheoKershaw tells all. #ChicagoRebels #Superglutes

  * * *

  “Theo, welcome to Hockey Grrl.”

  “It’s great to be here, Jordan.” He fluttered those pretty eyelashes over even prettier green-gold eyes. “At last. I’ve been trying to get a spot on your pod-thingy for months now, but it seems you’d rather interview everyone else but me.”

  “Maybe because everyone else is the warm-up act and you’re the headliner?”

  Theo flashed a toothy grin. “Nice pick-up.”

  She patted his hand. “Theo, we’re seven weeks into the season. How would you assess the Rebels’ play so far?’

  “A big improvement over the first few weeks. Man, we stunk like Jorgenson’s jock strap there for a while. But we always knew it was going to be tough to find our rhythm after DuPre and St. James retired. Feels like we’re getting into a groove now.”

  “I imagine it’s been tough for you to get into a groove yourself. Eighteen months off to recover from your setback—”

  “Brain explosion, Jordan. Let’s use the scientific term.”

  “How are you feeling these days?”

  “Pretty good. Kind of expectant, though.”

  “How so?”

  His brow wrinkled. “Like I’m waiting for something to happen. Maybe it’s with the team or the season or—hell, I don’t know. I’ve been having this weird dream where I’m outside a closed door. I’m searching for the key but my pockets are empty. I try the door knob but it won’t turn.” He set his jaw earnestly. “What do you think it means?”

  Jordan had to cover her mouth to stop from laughing.

  Theo gestured “what?” with his hands. He truly had no idea he was podcast gold.

  “I don’t know much about dream theory, Theo, but it sounds like you have some ideas yourself.”

  He sighed. “Expectant’s the only word I can think of. Something’s around the corner—”

  “Or behind the door?”

  “Right. Maybe it’s the Stanley Fucking Cup.” He slapped a palm over his mouth. “Shit, sorry. Agh, I’m really sorry!”

  “That’s okay,” she said around her laugh. “We’re not monitored by the FCC and I have a warning about salty language at the beginning of every episode. Now I hear you have strong opinions about suit pants and NHL player physiques. Tell me more.”

  Seventy-eight minutes later, the recording was in the can.

  “Hey, that was fun,” Theo said, stretching his arms above his head to reveal very nice abs. She loved her job. “We could make a whole series out of my dreams. I’ve started writing them down.”

  “Maybe. Good stuff tonight, Theo. Really.”

  She grabbed his empty beer bottle and headed to the kitchen, throwing out over her shoulder, “You want another one?” Please say no because Levi is waiting for me to text him when you leave.

  “Probably should head.” Dragging a finger along the mantle above her fireplace, he looked at the photos of friends, family, and her wedding day lining the shelf.

  She leaned against the entrance to the kitchen, sensing he had something on his mind. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. So what gives with you and Hunt?”

  Her head jerked, her heart with it. “Excuse me?”

  “Excuse you? Come on, Hockey Grrl, you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Really, I don’t.” She hated denying Levi in this way, but it was necessary for her professional reputation. “We’re just working together for the profile. It would be unethical for anything to happen between us.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s the subject of a story. Because I’m trying to present an objective piece. Because anything more is not a good look.”

  “Yet, he can’t take his eyes off you. Gets moody—or moodier—when you’re mentioned. And I see how you sneak those glances at each other on the plane. Is it because of your husband? Is that why you won’t jump?”

  “Theo! How is that”—she waved a hand ineffectually—“relevant? I just got through saying that I can’t be in a relationship with the subject of a story I’m covering.”

  He nodded slowly, like he was trying to appease the crazy woman in the room. Picking up the photo of her wedding day, he studied it for a few seconds.

  “What was your husband like?”

  “Josh? He was funny, sweet, a real joker.”

  “He and Hunt were close?”

  “They were, but they’re so different from each other. Josh was chatty, easygoing, always up for a laugh. With Levi …” She considered how to phrase it. “With Levi, every word is precious, every smile earned a prize. He’s funnier than I expected, dry and sharply observant. And so stubborn. I want to strangle him sometimes he’s so damn stubborn. He gets this look on his face when he’s going to tell me something good. Like he has this secret and I need to guess it. And that’s usually when I want to kill him the most. Either that or …” She caught herself, unsure what was coming next but knowing it would reveal too much.

  Knowing she already had.

  Theo put the photo frame back and for once in his gabby-as-all-get-out life, didn’t speak.

  Shitshitshit.

  This was an absolute disaster. Surging forward, she grabbed the lapels of Theo’s leather jacket. “You didn’t hear that.”

  “Think I did.” His grin was DEFCON Obnoxious. “I think Hockey Grrl is in love with the NHL’s oldest rookie.”

  Holy Gretzy, she was! For all her denials to Kinsey and her heart, she could no longer keep it buried. “You can’t tell him. Please don’t breathe a word, Theo. If this got out, my career would be toast. No one would take me seriously in this business.”

  “Why the hell would I tell him? I’m not going to steal your thunder.” He patted her fists, currently crumpling the baby-soft leather of his jacket. “But anything could happen, Jordan. Run over by a bus. Salmonella poisoning. Brain explosion.” He pointed at his head and unfurled his fingers. “Maybe go for it because life’s too short.”

  It couldn’t be that simple. Nothing ever was.

  Especially not with something so complicated as falling in love with your dead husband’s best friend who happened to be the subject of a career-defining story you were trying to cover objectively and failing at dismally.

  Theo merely smiled, for once not overdoing it. She’d almost rather he teased her to death. He chucked her chin, like she was a kid and he was the wise old gramps who had all the answers. “I’d best be off now. My work here is done.”

  “And what about you, Theo? Are you going for it now t
hat you have a second chance?”

  One hand on the doorknob, he grinned like he was a man with a plan. “I’m not missing a thing.”

  * * *

  Levi jumped because someone had thumped the driver side window of his car.

  Outside, Kershaw was laughing his head off, so Levi jerked opened the car door, not caring that it slammed right into the defenseman’s body.

  “Hey, watch the nads!”

  “Maybe don’t frighten the bejesus out of me.” Levi climbed out. “What’s up?”

  “Jordan’s free,” Theo said with a knowing grin.

  The mere mention of her name sent Levi glancing up to her apartment. He should have parked around the corner and waited for the text, but this neighborhood blew chunks when it came to parking spots and he took the first free space he saw.

  “You’re smiling like a crazy person, Kershaw. It worries me.”

  “Have to say I’m enjoying this dance between you two lovebirds. I just got through trying to get her to fess up. Then what do I find but you waiting here like a lovesick teenager ready to climb the balcony. New nickname, effective immediately. Romeo!”

  He knows nothing. “You were talking about me with Jordan?”

  “Don’t worry, she stuck with name, rank, and serial number.” He waved at the car. “Looks like your Special Forces skills are rusty. You suck at the covert ops thing.”

  “I was just coming over to do more interview stuff.” Extra weak sauce on that shit burger, Hunt.

  “Sure you were. Enjoy your chat.” He turned to go then spun back, hands in pockets. “Is Elle at home?”

  “Think she’s working tonight. Why?”

  “Just thought I’d check in on her.”

  Levi didn’t care that he might sound ten grades above hypocritical here. “That’s a hard no. You will keep your roving eyes, hands, and dick to yourself, Superglutes. You’re the last thing she needs.”