by Lauren Layne
She pursed her lips and tilted her head to study him.
Cole laughed. “Why do I feel like I should be giving you my good side? To see if I pass muster?”
“Oh, don’t fret, this is quite nice,” she said, lifting her hand to gesture over his face.
“But you’re still not feeling the pull, huh?”
Penelope took a sip of beer. “Are you?”
He blinked in surprise. “What?”
She shifted in her barstool to face him. “Take it all in. Are you feeling light-headed? Dazzled by my feminine charms?”
“Ah—”
“Exactly,” she said, looking strangely satisfied with his nonreaction. “You’re out of my league, Sharpe.”
He opened his mouth, and she shocked the hell out of him by leaning forward and tapping a finger over his lips very matter-of-factly.
“Don’t even,” she said. “This is how it’s going to be, okay? I don’t have any illusions about the fact that I’m a friend-zone kind of girl, and I’m okay with that. Plus, lucky for you, I’m a darn good friend.”
He tried to speak, but she kept right on talking.
“Plus, we have a career in common, and let’s be honest, there aren’t that many sportswriters out there, so we should stick together, right?”
“I—”
“You can’t say no,” she chattered on. “Because I’m new to the city and desperate for a friend, and I like you. But that’s where it ends, okay? At like. You don’t have to worry that I’ll get the wrong idea about what this is because I won’t. But in return, you have to promise not to flirt.”
Cole could only stare at her.
It was the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a woman. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a woman tell him quite so plainly that she didn’t want anything romantic from him.
Which was fine—he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend, and even if he were, this chatty little tomboy wasn’t really his type.
Still, he couldn’t help being a little insulted by her easy dismissal of him as a potential lover.
And her insistence that he not flirt—Cole wasn’t sure he even knew where that line was anymore. What was the difference between friendly and flirty?
Penelope pointed a finger at him. “You’re overthinking this.”
He grabbed another celery stick and bit into it as he studied her. “Well, I do have a question. Since you have this so planned out, and all.”
“Shoot,” she said, taking a sip of her beer.
He leaned forward a little. “There is the not so tiny detail that as of now we’re actively competing for the same job. What happens when one of us gets it?”
And despite his surprise affection for Tiny, he would get the job. He had to. Rent at his brother’s adult-care home got more expensive every time Cole blinked, and Cole couldn’t bear the thought of Bobby’s having to move away from his friends if Cole hit a gap in his freelance contracts.
He needed that steady paycheck.
Penelope shrugged. “Why would that make a difference? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I want the job. I want it badly. But if you get it…well, then, I have to think you’re the best person for Oxford. And I’ll be happy for you.”
Cole could only shake his head. “You’re a unique creature, Penelope Pope.”
“What about you? If I get the job, can you handle it? We can still be friends?”
Cole glanced down at their near-empty glasses. “Another round?”
“Sure,” she said slowly, “but you didn’t answer the question.”
He lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “We can absolutely be friends,” he told her.
“Even if I get the job,” she pressed, sounding doubtful.
Cole glanced over and smiled before chucking her playfully under the chin. “Oh, Tiny. That ain’t never gonna happen.”
Chapter 6
Penelope: Your precious Yankees aren’t looking so hot.
Cole: You watch your filthy Chicago mouth.
Penelope: Hmm, maybe I need glasses, because I keep looking at my TV, and I’m seeing Chicago White Sox: 6, New York Yankees: 2…What are you seeing?
Cole: The Yanks will come back. They always do.
Penelope: Has anyone told you how cute your delusions are?
Cole: Not recently. Want to come over and tell me to my face?
Penelope: Nice try, Sharpe. I’m quite comfortable on my own couch, thank you very much.
Cole: Fair enough…What are you wearing?
Penelope: Goodbye, Cole.
—
Cole Sharpe was good at a lot of things. Baseball. Putting furniture together. Cooking steak.
Sex.
But waiting was not on his list of skills.
And when an entire week passed after his interview without any word from Cassidy, Cole was past impatient and heading toward pissed.
The only consolation was that Penelope Pope hadn’t gotten word either. He knew because true to their agreement that afternoon in the bar, they’d ventured into a friendship of sorts.
Not that they were hanging out every day or anything. He actually hadn’t seen her since that day at the pub.
But they’d exchanged a few casual texts. Mostly about sports, with the occasional restaurant recommendation thrown in when she was craving Italian and didn’t know which of the hundreds in the city to choose from.
Cole found that he kind of enjoyed his new nightly routine of plopping on his couch with the remote, his notebook, his whiskey…and his phone.
He bickered with Penelope over texts about whether or not the rookie Henderson’s homer was a fluke or hint of potential. About whether or not Perez had gained weight in the off-season and would be able to maintain his impressive stolen base percentage.
It was through these nightly exchanges that he knew she hadn’t gotten the job offer either.
Why the fuck was Cassidy taking so long to decide?
On Thursday, one week and one day after his and Penelope’s interviews, Cole took matters into his own hands.
And this time, when he walked into the Oxford offices, two coffees in hand, the correct recipient was sitting at the front desk.
“Jo. My love,” he said, giving her his best smile.
The dark-haired receptionist glanced up from her computer and gave him a wry smile. “I was wondering when you’d show up with bribes.”
He handed her the coffee with an innocent look. “I’m offended, darling. This is just me trying to woo you so you’ll have dinner with me.”
“Unh-uh,” the brunette said, taking a sip. “For the nine millionth time, I don’t date guys from the office.”
“Ah,” he said, lifting a finger. “But I’m not from the office. I’m a contractor.”
She looked away, just for a split second, and it was exactly the opening Cole had been waiting for.
“Jo,” he said, leaning on the desk. “Is there something you want to tell me about that sports editor position?”
“Sharpe!”
Cole’s head snapped up, and he braced himself for a furious Alex Cassidy, only to sag a bit in relief when he realized the editor in chief was nowhere to be seen.
“Jake Malone,” Cole said, standing up straight and grinning at one of his closest friends.
Cole could have sworn he heard Jo sigh just a little as Jake came closer.
It happened a lot around Jake. Oxford’s travel editor had a Hugh Jackman kind of thing going on, and had definitely cornered the market on tall, dark, and handsome.
Jake had once been Oxford’s untamable playboy—a title he’d happily handed over to Lincoln, once Jake met and fell for his wife, Grace—one of Penelope’s Stiletto fairy godmothers.
Small world, and all that.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jake said, clapping Cole on the shoulder and giving him one of those half-man-hug things.
“Waiting for your boss to make up his mind,” Cole said, keeping his voice easy.
Cole searched his friend’s face, but Jake gave no sign that he knew anything. Cole wasn’t surprised. Cassidy and Jake were good friends, but Cassidy also knew Jake had a big mouth. If Cassidy had made up his mind about the position, Jake would be the last one he’d tell.
“You here for an appointment with Cassidy?” Jake asked.
“Uh, well—”
Jake grinned. “He doesn’t know you’re coming, does he? Awesome. Can I be there when you surprise him? Heard you did that when he was interviewing your competition the other day. Damn, I wish I’d seen that.”
Cole winced. “Is he still pissed?”
Jake shrugged. “Honestly? I’ve barely seen the guy. He’s been up in corporate almost every day this week. Come on back,” Jake said, gesturing toward his office. “Tell me what you’ve been up to.”
Cole followed Jake into his office, pointing at a new poster of a vineyard on his friend’s wall. “Napa?”
“Spain,” Jake said. “I’m trying to convince the boss to send me out there in October. Everyone talks about French wines, California wines, even Italian wines…Spain doesn’t get nearly enough love.”
“Wine, huh? Let me guess whose idea that was.”
Jake grinned. “Let’s just say if Cassidy maybe allowed me to let my wife tag along, she probably wouldn’t say no. Oh, and speaking of the wife…wanna come to dinner at our place? Two weeks from Friday?”
Cole looked at him in surprise. “What’s the catch?”
“There’s no catch. What, I can’t ask my friend to dinner?”
Cole lifted an eyebrow. Waited.
Jake sighed and relented. “Okay, fine. Grace and the other girls—they’ve got it in their heads that they want to adopt this Penelope Pope character.”
Cole’s eyebrow went higher. “And you think I should be there? You are aware that this woman is out for my job?”
“This woman?” Jake repeated. “You sound like my sexist grandpa who’s having a hard time coming to grips with the fact that women who show a bit of ankle aren’t harlots.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Cole grumbled, dropping into the chair across from Jake.
“So it doesn’t bother you that she’s a woman?”
“Hell no. I love women.”
“Excellent,” Jake said. “So you won’t have a problem coming to dinner.”
“That was the lamest attempt at a trap ever,” Cole said. “Explain to me why your wife’s deciding to befriend Penelope Pope—which I’m in favor of, by the way—requires me to be present.”
“It’s not a trap,” Jake said irritably.
“Uh-huh. So you’re telling me this isn’t a couples-only party, with Penelope and me being the only single people?”
“Nope,” Jake said without hesitation. “And even if the girls were trying to set Penelope up, rumor has it Riley’s brother is first pick. Except he’s in Milan or Rome or something.”
Cole frowned. “Why was Liam first pick?”
Jake threw up his hands. “Do you want to come to fucking dinner or not?”
Cole considered. On one hand, he enjoyed hanging out with Jake and the rest of the crew. Was he slightly aware that he was the lone single guy in the group? Yes. Did it bother him? Not in the least.
Except…Grace and her friends were always not so subtly trying to set Cole up with women in an attempt to lure him into their coupled lifestyle.
As such, he could smell a setup a mile away. And this was definitely one of them.
“I think I’ll respectfully pass,” Cole said slowly, leaning back in his chair and resting his heels on Jake’s desk. “Penelope’s great, but—”
Jake shrugged as though it didn’t make a difference to him. “No problem. I’ll ask Lincoln.”
Cole’s feet hit the floor. “Hell no.”
“What’s wrong with Lincoln?” Jake asked distractedly, looking at something that had just come through on his computer screen.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with Lincoln?” came a familiar voice from the doorway.
Cole glanced over his shoulder to see the very topic of conversation strolling into Jake’s office. Lincoln sat in the chair next to Cole.
“Wanna come to dinner?” Jake asked Lincoln.
“No,” Cole said, pointing a finger at Jake. “No way.”
“Sure, I love dinner,” Lincoln said, ignoring Cole. “When?”
“You’re not going,” Cole told Lincoln.
Jake frowned. “Well, at least one of you has to come. If I go home and tell Grace I didn’t find her tenth dinner party member, she’s going to be cranky, and when she’s cranky, I don’t get laid.”
“I’ll be there,” Cole said.
Jake lifted an eyebrow. “Changed your mind, did you?”
Cole didn’t rise to the bait.
Jake likely knew full well that Lincoln was the worst possible alternative.
Women seemed to fall in love with Lincoln just for existing. Cole had seen smart, rational women all but offer to have the man’s baby in exchange for a smile.
Not that Lincoln ever fell in love back. In fact, whenever Cole so much as teased him about getting serious, Lincoln got this haunted look like he was torn between puking and punching something.
No way was Cole going to subject Penelope to that. The woman needed a friend, not a broken heart.
“What did I just miss out on?” Lincoln asked Jake. “I sense subtext.”
Jake jerked his chin at Cole. “Dude can’t make up his mind how he feels about Penelope Pope.”
“Ah, the cute brunette who’s gunning for your job.”
“Not my job yet,” Cole grumbled. “Unless you two know something…”
Lincoln held up his hands. “Dude, believe me, I’ve tried. Cassidy’s tight-lipped on this one.”
“Tight-lipped about what?”
Cole didn’t even have to turn around to know that Cassidy was standing in the doorway.
“Is this what you guys do all day?” Cole asked the group. “Just loom around other people’s office doorways and eavesdrop?”
“Why don’t you join the team and find out?” Jake asked.
“Yeah, Cassidy,” Cole said, tilting his head back and looking at his maybe-soon-to-be employer. “Why don’t I join the team and find out?”
Cassidy rolled his eyes, crossing both arms across his chest as he leaned against the doorway. “Yeah, I can see you’d be such a positive influence on my team’s productivity.”
“Glad you’re seeing the light,” Cole replied. “Should I start today? Jake here doesn’t mind sharing his office.”
“I do. I definitely mind,” Jake said.
Cassidy sighed. “I was going to call you tomorrow, Sharpe, but since you’re here—might as well get it over with.”
Cole felt his stomach drop suddenly. Cassidy’s words were hardly the encouraging pep talk of someone about to make a job offer.
He swallowed his bitterness.
He wasn’t going to get the job. They were going to give it to Penelope Pope.
And damn it, she probably deserved it.
But so did he.
And he needed it. He couldn’t let Bobby get kicked out of his home. Sure, his brother could move in with Cole, but they’d tried that, and Bobby had been bored out of his mind while Cole was at work, and Cole had been stressed and irritable, worrying about his brother more than he probably needed to.
Cole glanced at Lincoln and Jake, making a joking finger-slash-across-the-throat gesture. Neither of his friends said anything as he left Jake’s office, but it made him feel slightly better that they looked almost as disappointed by Cassidy’s dire tone as Cole felt.
Cassidy was already heading down the hall to his office, so Cole followed after him, feeling a good deal less jubilant than he usually did in the Oxford offices.
Abruptly he realized that it could be the last time he strolled these hallways.
Of course, th
ere was always the chance that he could continue his current status as contractor, except…
That would be up to Penelope now, wouldn’t it?
Cassidy was already sitting when Cole entered the office, careful to keep his disappointment off his face. Careful not to show how much he cared.
He wasn’t sure why it was so important to uphold his happy-go-lucky reputation, only that the thought of anyone feeling sorry for him grated on his nerves.
“How’s it going?” Cassidy asked, once Cole had settled into the chair across from him.
Cole resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s fine, Cassidy. Can we just rip the Band-Aid off?”
Cassidy’s brows lifted. “What is it you think I’m about to say?”
Cole reached forward and snatched a pen off the desk, just so he had something to do with his hands, then put it back just as quickly.
“You’re giving the job to Penelope Pope.”
Cassidy’s chair spun slightly, his eyes never leaving Cole’s. “She’s damn good. You saw that.”
“Yeah,” Cole said, slowly exhaling a long, tired breath. “She is.”
“I’m glad you think so,” Cassidy said.
“Why, so that I’ll be less bitter about it at dinner parties?” Cole asked, trying to keep the snide out of his tone, and failing.
“I don’t give a damn whether you have PMS at our dinner parties,” Cassidy said. “I’m glad you like—or at least respect—Penelope, because the two of you are going to be spending an awful lot of time together.”
“Dude, it’s just one dinner,” Cole muttered. “How long are you thinking it’s going to last?”
Cassidy leaned forward, both arms braced on the desk. “Okay, let’s cut the bullshit. I’m offering you the job, Sharpe.”
It took several seconds for that to register. And then…
“What the hell, Cassidy. Why’d you just make me listen to how fucking great Penelope was if I got the job?”
Cassidy didn’t even flinch at Cole’s outburst. “Penelope’s being perfect for this job doesn’t make you any less perfect. You belong in this role, Cole. You know you do.”
Cole swallowed, uncomfortable by the unusual praise. He knew that Cassidy liked his work. His contract wouldn’t get renewed every year if he didn’t. But it was nice to hear it, all the same.
