Good Guy

by Kate Meader

  That didn’t come out right. He meant that was how she’d approached the embedding assignment.

  “Is it true what Dawson said? About you being homeless as a kid?”

  “I had a disruptive childhood. Like lots of kids.” How did Coby Dawson have that information? She’d looked surprised, and if Theo would just leave him the fuck alone, he could examine her expressions and make up his mind about whether he had reason to be pissed with her.

  “Yeah, I hear you.” Accepting that, Theo scrubbed a hand through his hair. “She did say that we were respectful, so there’s that. Maybe it’s not so bad. I apologized to her that one time and she’s always seemed really cool around us. Just one of the guys.” After a moment he seemed to realize that this wasn’t all about him. “And that stuff about Ms. Chase. You think that’s true? Any idea who it was?”

  “We don’t know if any of it is true. Reporters make up crap all the time, Theo. Let PR handle it.” He pulled out his other earbud, resigned to not getting any peace. “So, you had a good game tonight. Some great blocks in that last period.”

  Hoping to get his teammate’s mind off the negative, Levi put his problems aside and listened while Theo launched into a debrief of the game, which lasted all the way to the airport. This late, the smaller airports were usually empty, and tonight was no different, except for the vision standing near the check-in desk.

  Jordan.

  She was on her phone, her expression anxious, her energy tense. All he wanted to do was hold her tight, tell her he had her back, then order the pilot to fly over Bristol so he could parachute into Dawson’s back yard and take that fucker out.

  Levi might be the only guy within a five-mile radius qualified to actually do that.

  “Jordan.” He rushed over to her, ready to take her in his arms, but she stiffened on seeing him.

  Her face told him: back off, not in front of the team.

  It’s not about you, Hunt. “You okay? Did you drive here?”

  “ESPN was all class. Gave me a car to take me wherever I wanted.” Tears welled as she peeked around his shoulder at the team, gathered near the gate to the plane, trying not to be nosy and doing a terrible job at it. Levi wished they’d hurry up and board, so he could be alone with her.

  “You got shafted, baby. Come on, we can talk on the plane. Let me take care of you.”

  Let me love you.

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. I came here because I wanted you to know I didn’t tell him any of that stuff about your upbringing. I swear.”

  Relief flooded him. He’d known she never would, not even to get a shot at this interview with ESPN or the chance of a better job. Still, he had questions that needed to be answered. “But he knew about it, Jordan. How?”

  She swiped at a stray tear, and his palms itched with the need to comfort her. “One night during the DC game, he was alone with my computer for a few minutes while I was in the restroom. He must have read my early drafts. My notes on Harper. I’ve been trying to call her but she won’t pick up.”

  A nagging unease burned in his chest. “You had drafts of the story, ones that included all the things I didn’t want mentioned, and you left them lying around?”

  “They were on my computer! He stole them.”

  “But you shouldn’t have written them down at all.” Anger gripped him like a flash storm. He looked over his shoulder. The team had left the boarding area, though one of the travel assistants remained behind. “We’ll be there in a couple of minutes, Amy,” he called over to her, trying to use the moment of not looking at this woman he loved to calm his emotions. “Go ahead.”

  When he turned back to Jordan, her eyes were wild, her stance that of a cornered animal. “I wrote them down because I write everything down. It’s my process—figure out what I can use, chisel away at the hunk of marble to get to the Michelangelo.”

  Levi hauled in a breath, running it through his mind. So she made a mistake. People made mistakes all the time.

  “He saw how upset I got when you were hit hard a few games ago,” Jordan said. “I think that’s how he knew about you and me. Or he guessed. And he’s not wrong. I slept with a player and now I have a story, just like he said. I’m a laughing stock.”

  His heart cracked at how she connected the dots, and his next words sounded like they came from someone else. “You’re worried about looking bad?”

  “Yes! You know I’ve always been concerned with that and how it could affect my career.”

  “Because I’m just a job to you.”

  “You—you were!” She censored herself, but it was too late. She’d been about to say “are.” “I care about you, too. You’ve got to know that, but this job is everything to me.”

  This shouldn’t have been news. She was upfront about it from the beginning: why she got the job, why they couldn’t be seen together, why she wasn’t interested in dating. But he’d thought they were moving beyond that and that she saw him as more than a stepping stone.

  “You didn’t admit anything to Dawson. Just keep denying and you’re fine.” He hated the resignation in his tone, how the knowledge that it would come to this felt inevitable. She’d done that. Given him hope, then ripped it right from under him.

  She frowned at his take on it. “The worst of it is that it drew focus from the real story. I went on SportsFocus to talk about how women should be treated equal and we shouldn’t need to pay for play, where payment is in the form of our bodies.”

  “And here you are proving that’s how a woman gets ahead. According to Dawson.”

  She cut him a frosty look. “That’s not what I was doing. I didn’t sleep with you to get a story.”

  “Dawson was right about why you got the job, though. Because of our connection.” Levi couldn’t believe he was agreeing with that jerk.

  “I was honest with you about that.”

  She was, then she’d employed some dirty tactics to squeeze all she could from that connection when it didn’t bear fruit immediately. “But when I wasn’t as forthcoming as you wanted, you needled. Poked away. Kept bringing up that kiss, all to provoke a reaction. So I could think of nothing else but touching and tasting you.”

  “I was mad at you for being a closed-off jerk, but I didn’t deliberately try to provoke you into kissing me so you’d suddenly become an open book. If that’s all it takes, I’d kiss every player in the NHL! Hey everyone, free blowjobs, I need a story.”

  He folded his arms. “If it looks like a duck—”

  “How about if it looks like a dick? Don’t do this, Levi.”

  “Do what? Call you out on your tactics? Tell me. Would you even be speaking to me if it wasn’t for this assignment?”

  “Probably not.”

  Her ready agreement surprised him. He’d expected her to be wishy-washy about it.

  “But lots of people start out not liking each other,” she continued. “It’s the premise for every rom-com ever written. The last time we met was weird and awkward and you’ve always acted like you enjoy my company about as much as a bowl of dicks. Without the story, I probably wouldn’t have sought you out, but the story is not the reason I slept with you, you dummy!”

  “No?”

  Her eyes flashed. “No! It was just the inciting event. I had sex with you because I thought you were hot and sweet, and spending more time with you—both in and out of bed—revealed a side of you I never knew existed.”

  “The side that could get you a scoop.” The side he kept hidden along with the pain and shame.

  Had he really thought he could show her all that and not have her use it to get ahead? Her career meant everything to her. She’d been completely honest about that.

  “You were annoyed that I refused to give up all the good stuff, all the human interest junk. But you found a way. Certainly puts you in prime position for a job at ESPN. Not only do you have the goods on me, you also have it on Harper and the Rebels.”

  She threw up her hands. “Which I didn�
�t pass on to Dawson! Can’t you see that I was screwed over as much as you here?”

  Maybe, maybe not. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. “I might be able to see past the betrayal of my secrets, Jordan. I’m just a dumb fool who fell for the wrong girl, after all. But using Harper like that to get your pound of flesh? Anything for the story, right?”

  Her nostrils flared. He knew he was pushing her, but he didn’t care. She would never be here if she didn’t need that story, and he was a bastard for using that weakness of hers, that need to make her mark, to make his mark on her.

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” she said.

  “What didn’t?”

  “You reverting to your factory settings. Supreme asshole.”

  It shouldn’t have hurt. He’d asked for it after all. But he’d spent the last couple of months upending her view of him that for it to come back around to this just proved he hadn’t deserved it in the first place. One of those self-fulfilling prophecies.

  “I guess Ms. Sunshine doesn’t like hearing the truth. Admit it, Jordan. This—” He whipped his hand through the air between them, hard so as to stop the shake. “This would not have happened without your assignment. You needed to pry me apart to get the good stuff and you figured out a way. You knew I wanted you. That I’ve always wanted you.”

  Awareness flared in her eyes, and he realized his mistake.

  I’ve always wanted you.

  He could mean since the moment she’d walked into the Rebels locker room and they’d reconnected, but that wasn’t it—and she knew it.

  Even now, she was still capable of unearthing his rawest secrets.

  She stepped in close, her mouth trembling so much he wanted to stop it with his thumb. Soothe and protect her from anything that would hurt her, including him.

  Especially him.

  “Yeah, I figured you always had a crush on me, Levi.” Sarcasm dripped off words that shredded him. “I figured it wouldn’t be so hard for me to turn that crush against you and get that lockbox you call a heart to open right up. A little flirting with your teammates to drive you crazy. A few prods and pokes to get you riled.” She touched his chest, fanned her hand over the heart that beat for her. Broke for her. “There was never any question of me falling for you. Not really.”

  He couldn’t help himself. Assholes be assholin’. “Why would you? You’ve got places to be and people to step on to get there.”

  That had the desired effect. Because not even Ms. Sunshine herself, a walking-talking smiley face, the woman who wore her heart on her sleeve then complained about the bloodied shirt, had armor enough for a blow like that.

  She drew a shuddering breath and balled her hand, the one over his heart, into a fist. “Ah, Sergeant Engineer Hunt, you know me so well.” The break in her voice sounded not unlike his heart shattering into a million fragments.

  It took him a full two minutes to realize he was alone.

  26

  Chase Manor on Chicago’s North Shore on a cold December morning was not where Jordan wanted to be, but alas she had an unpleasant duty to perform. The air was frigid enough to freeze her tears. Fortunately she didn’t have to worry about that.

  She was all cried out.

  Levi had made her cry, and she’d spent half of yesterday on the phone with Kinsey—who had the patience of a saint—and the evening in the company of her good friend, Jose Cuervo. Needless to say, neither she nor her pounding head were fit for stop one of the apology tour to the burbs. She only hoped they didn’t set the estate’s dogs on her.

  Flicking a nervous glance over her shoulder, she stepped closer to the big oak door and listened for a ‘Release the hounds’ order to echo through the nippy air. Thankfully, the door flew open, presenting her with a sight that should have cheered her: a shirtless Remy DuPre toting a cherub-faced toddler.

  “Jordan.” He frowned, then his good manners kicked in. “Come in.”

  “Thanks.” She followed him and closed the large door behind her. “Who’s this angel?”

  “This anti-angel is Madeleine. We call her Maddy, eh, petite?” He squinted at Jordan. “You okay?”

  She must look awful. “Just a bit tired.”

  “No, I mean after that interview. That motherfu—” He smiled at his little girl, blew out a breath, and lowered his voice. “Dawson needs to be hung, drawn, and quartered for that stunt he pulled on you.”

  Oh. She’d expected they’d be furious with her. Harper hadn’t returned any of her messages. Only a sneaky call to Casey, Harper’s PA, had revealed that the Rebels’ boss was working from home today.

  “Come on through to the kitchen.”

  In the cozy, warm kitchen with more of those French-inspired touches, Harper was busy cutting up toast for her three-year old twins, Amelie and Giselle. The Rebels CEO in a domestic setting didn’t feel as off as Jordan had expected. If anything, it inspired a jolt of envy at seeing this woman who seemed to have it all worked out.

  Harper raised her gaze, a humanizing smudge of Nutella on her chin. “Honey, who was—oh! Jordan.”

  “Hi, Harper. I’m hoping we could chat.”

  Remy put Maddy into a high chair. “Okay, mes enfants terribles, who’s ready for … waffles?”

  All three kids cheered. Jordan wouldn’t mind a Remy-made waffle herself.

  The hot Cajun kissed his wife, wiping the Nutella at the same time with his thumb, and sucking it into his mouth. It was nothing, really, but the intimacy had Jordan averting her eyes.

  “I got this, minou. Go make the big bucks.”

  Smiling, Harper grabbed a coffee mug and gestured to the pot. “Jordan?”

  Happy that Harper’s annoyance didn’t extend to denying coffee privileges, Jordan accepted a cup with thanks. Beverages in hand, they headed to a living room/den and sat on a careworn sofa.

  “What does ‘minou’ mean?”

  Harper colored slightly. “Oh, just a Cajun term of endearment.” With her usual laser-eyed focus, she studied Jordan over the rim of her cup. “Well, that probably didn’t go the way you expected.”

  “Harper, I’m so sorry. I promise I did not tell Dawson a thing. He somehow read my notes—”

  “So you said in your multiple voice, text, and email messages. You had these notes because you’d planned to write up a story on what happened all those years ago? And how did you even hear about it? I was too annoyed to ask about it before.” Jordan’s heart sank at how hurt the usually stoic woman sounded.

  “I overheard you and Isobel discussing it one night in the restroom before a game. I’ve been collecting stories about women in the pro-sports space and what happened to you was just one more data point. I would never have revealed it without your permission. You’ve got to know that.”

  Harper held her gaze, those moss-green eyes playing lie detector. After an eternity while Jordan questioned her very reason for living, Harper said, “Unfortunately, Dawson doesn’t have such scruples, and now, we’re dealing with the fallout. Despite the fact it happened during my father’s tenure as boss and I was young, foolish, and desperate to put it behind me, it still looks like we covered it up. We sent a bad apple away so he couldn’t contaminate our barrel any longer and to hell with all the other barrels.”

  “People will understand you not wanting it to get out.”

  “Perhaps.” She took a sip of her coffee, then said with feeling, “That SportsFocus interview was a complete hatchet job.”

  Jordan had never felt such relief. “The man was determined to get his scoop at the expense of mine.”

  “Any truth to the charge?”

  “That I’m using my vagina to get a story? Oh, 100%!” Anger rose swiftly, though it wasn’t all for Coby Dawson. She had plenty of arrows in her quiver for Levi, who had essentially jumped onto Dawson’s bandwagon.

  “You were ambushed so a poster boy for male privilege could make a point. Who cares if you are involved with a player? Does your ability to write a good story or game report su
ddenly turn to goo because you’re getting some hot hockey player lovin’?”

  “It’s not exactly above board, Harper.”

  Harper’s eyes almost rolled into the back of her head. “I’m living proof that it does not matter. I fell in love with a player on my team and hell, did I resist. I was so afraid I’d be judged by the all-male hockey establishment when really my happiness with Remy made me stronger. Love made me better at my job.”

  Agitated, Jordan stood and marched a few steps, hands on hips. “That all sounds nice, but perception is reality here. I look like a woman who can’t control her hormones.”

  Harper gave a wry smile. “I know it’s not how you wanted it to come out, but it was going to happen eventually, wasn’t it?”

  “I—I don’t know. If Levi and I didn’t have a future together, then there would’ve been no need to spill. We would have just chalked it up to one of those things. Hot hockey player lovin’ received, story in the bag, no muss, no fuss.”

  “And that’s what you wanted?”

  Jordan shrugged helplessly. “No. I’ve been falling for him, but I didn’t know how he felt.” Until seeing how hurt he was last night.

  Harper looked sympathetic, but remained silent.

  “How Dawson portrayed it is exactly how your star rookie thinks it went down. That every moment we spent together was for the story.”

  Jordan couldn’t believe that Levi would prefer to accept she’d been using him above all else. She could ignore trolls like Dawson for their snide comments about how she got stories. Fanboys calling her “whore” and worse on social media could be dispatched with a Luke Skywalker dust-off-my-shoulder GIF. But for Levi to side with the enemy and basically agree that this was her MO?

  That killed her.

  Harper raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Men are such dumb creatures, sometimes.”

  Now Jordan felt a need to defend Levi. Her brain could barely keep up. “To be fair, it started out that way … not using, but exploiting the connection. Our dynamic. I poked him, got under his skin, hoping he’d deviate from that gruff, by-the-book, hard ass, who would never reveal a thing.”