"Well, I would change the playoff loss," I answer with a laugh. "I would’ve loved to have gone to the Super Bowl. But I guess that’s what anyone would say."
She looks reflective for a minute and then says, "No, not everyone would say that. Most people would say something selfish like higher completion percentage or high quarterback rating. Most people would say something that makes them look better, but not you, huh?" Her voice has taken on a tone somewhere between amazement and annoyance, and the expression on her face gives a similar impression. Interesting.
"Well, it’s not all about me, is it? Football is a team sport. It’s about us as a team, not me as an individual," I tell her, suddenly feeling the need to defend myself.
"Speaking of the team, what do you do as team captain to keep up morale throughout the season?" Ashley checks her notes and doesn’t even look at me while she asks the question.
"Hmm...That’s a tough one because I don’t feel like I’m the one who keeps the morale up. Again, that’s something we do as a team. We really are like a band of brothers. If someone has a bad game, we work through the problem together. I know that I’m not perfect, and I don’t expect everyone else to always be perfect. I try to never be negative to anyone and do my best to offer my help instead. Negativity never helps anything," I answer honestly. I really hate negativity. One of the main reasons I really don’t like the spotlight. There’s always so much negative energy surrounding it.
"That’s a really good philosophy, Tanner." Ashley smiles at me. I love the way my name sounds coming out of her mouth. Almost sensual. I wonder what it would sound like if she were screaming it out in pleasure. Where the fuck did that thought come from? I’m thinking about this woman in my bedroom screaming in ecstasy? What the hell is going on right now? My dick has decided to hijack my train of thought. I'm seriously fucked right now. The way she keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, giving me a glimpse of what’s hiding under her skirt, isn’t helping. I need to get a hold of myself before I say or do something dumb.
"So," Ashley continues, looking down to check her notes. She bites her lip, drawing my attention to her mouth. Her lips are plump and coated in some kind of shiny gloss. I’m sure they would look really good wrapped around my cock. Fuck, again with the sexual positions I want her in and her lips wrapped around my cock, really? So much for getting a handle on things. "What are your thoughts about your passing game this year? How do you think your new wide receiver is going to help?"
Football, Tanner. Think about football. Nothing sexual about football. "Darren is definitely a great asset. We work together very well. I’m sure that this year we’re going to put up some great numbers. I’m definitely considering him for my fantasy team," I answer with a smirk. “I mean, honestly there’s really no way to know what will happen this year, but I’m going to keep a positive outlook.”
"That’s good to know. I’ll make sure I pass that little bit of info along to anyone I know with a fantasy team. How do you feel about the win against Cincinnati?” she smiles a smile that I can only imagine she uses when she has a secret.
“I feel really good about it. We all do. I think it’s a sign of good things to come. All the pieces came together, and we were rewarded for all our hard work with a win.” I smile back. Talking about winning always makes me happy.
“What are you doing to prepare for this week’s game against Philly?” She dives into the question with no witty remarks or changes in her position. Nothing to distract my thoughts. Thank fucking God.
“The same as we always do. We treat every team with the same respect and never expect to win. When you go in expecting a win, that’s when you lose. So we’re watching game films, pushing ourselves a little harder at each practice, making the necessary adjustments, and practicing plays until we feel that we’ve gotten them right,” I explain.
“Well, I wish you and the team nothing but luck going forward,” she says in a tone I hope is sincere, but I can’t be sure. I feel as though there’s more to come. And then she opens her perfect little mouth and says, “But before we wrap this up, I do have to ask one question for the ladies...Are you single?"
Oh shit. Is she really asking for the interview or for her own personal knowledge? I hope it’s the latter. I decide to answer honestly. Honesty is always the best policy, right?
"Yes, I’m single," I say, hoping that’ll be the end of this line of questioning.
"So, no girlfriend, huh? What about the latest gossip about you going around?" There’s a weird gleam in her eye now. I really don’t like it.
"Which gossip would that be?" I feel my temper flaring. She could be referring to any number of things since so much different crap is always being written about me.
"Oh, come on. You know what I’m talking about. The rumor that you don’t do committed relationships and are just stringing poor Melissa along." Her eyes sparkle as though this kind of questioning is her favorite pastime. I’m going to enjoy shutting her down.
"Well, that’s certainly news to me. I guess I should keep up with the magazines to find out about my own personal life." I’m beyond furious right now. But at least I’m no longer thinking about fucking her. I would really prefer to strangle her now. She conned me. Here I’d thought she was a sweet little reporter wanting to get the inside scoop for the city, but nope. She’s just another mooch trying to see what she can get out of me. In her case, it’s a story about where I’m currently putting my dick.
"Oh please, you have to know about your rep, especially since you make no attempt to hide anything or set the record straight." Ashley practically snorts out the sentence, accusing me of being a liar and womanizer. Okay, game over. I’m done.
"I should inform you that you aren’t the first person to try to get the inside scoop on my personal life. Most of those people no longer have jobs." I smirk, trying to contain the anger that’s burning under the surface.
"Nice deflection. I’m not surprised that I’m not the first to ask. But you still haven’t answered the question.” When the fuck did this become an interrogation? How the fuck did we wind up here? Five minutes ago, I was picturing her naked, and right now, I’m picturing my hands around her throat. And not in a way that would prolong her pleasure…
"Since it seems that you already have your mind made up, I guess my answer doesn’t matter. I think our time here is up." I don’t wait to hear what she has to say before storming out of the conference room. I grab my phone out of my pocket and pull up Davis' number on my way to the locker room.
He picks up quickly. "How did it go?" Davis asks innocently.
"Get the editor of The Press on the phone! I want that interview pulled. That reporter didn’t give two shits about football or the team. It was a fucking fishing expedition for information about my dating life and how I’m apparently a piece of shit with no regard for the girlfriend I don’t have. You know how I feel about this shit, Davis! GET IT PULLED! I agreed to an interview about the upcoming season, not about where I put my dick. I’m done! Done with this bullshit!" Davis knows I don’t like my shit out there like that, especially when it makes me look like an asshole. If I didn’t love football and my team as much as I do, I'd be out! I don’t understand how anyone can deal with this shit all the time. At least I get a break in the off season, but from July to January, everyone seems to be more interested in what play my cock is getting than what’s happening on the field.
Chapter 3
ASHLEY
What the fuck was I thinking? I have no idea why I did that. I could totally lose my job for this sort of slip-up. Maybe I can claim temporary insanity. It’s obvious my sanity is missing today. I really hadn’t meant to take the interview in that direction. I really had just been curious about his love life. Tanner had been sitting there all altruistic, talking about doing everything as a team, not taking any of the spotlight for himself. It had really thrown me for a loop. He’d seemed the complete opposite of everything I had read about him last night.
The fact that he’s so hot it’s distracting hadn’t helped. God, pictures don’t do that man any justice. His hair had been a hot mess, in a good way—as though he cared enough to make sure that he wasn’t rocking bed head but not enough to put any effort into an actual style. It looked so silky. I wonder if it’s as soft as it seems. And good Lord, those eyes. They’re the most unique green I have ever seen, a dark grass green with sparkling gold flecks in them. The man obviously isn’t afraid to dress brightly, considering the lime green shirt and tie he wore with his dark grey suit pants. And his clothes looked as though they were tailored just to fit his perfect body, which I’m sure looks truly magnificent naked.
From the moment we’d shaken hands, everything had taken a weird turn. I’d kept catching him staring at me, almost in a daze. I don’t know what I should make of it. There was a bizarre electricity in the air that seemed to be passing all around us, clouding my judgment. Suddenly, my inner curiosity had taken control of my mouth and decided to try to prove that the man was all act. I mean, he had to have been acting. No way can someone run through that many woman, have that hotness level, and still be the nice guy he appeared to be.
My phone rings, its shrill tone in the quiet conference room waking me from my pity party. It’s Dom. Oh man, this can’t be good.
"Hello?" I answer timidly, afraid of the lecture that’s surely waiting at the other end of the line.
"What the hell did you do, Ashley? What the hell were you thinking? I give you the chance for a huge break, and you throw it away? Why? I just got a very unpleasant phone call from Garrison's agent telling me I’d better pull the interview. Do you know how hard James and I worked for this? It’s the only one that Garrison’s doing pre-season. I hope that I can fix this. I’m disappointed in you. I can’t believe that you would do this. Maybe you were right when you said that you couldn’t handle this interview. I have to go and see how much damage control I can do." The line goes dead. He didn’t even let me get a word in. Disappointed. Great, another person in my life who’s disappointed in me. I hadn’t come in here with any intention other than getting a great story.
Shit. I feel the tears welling up in my eyes as I make the trek back to my car. It feels as though this is the longest walk of shame in history. I didn’t just fuck this up for me, but for the paper as well. Just another thing in my life that hasn’t gone as planned. I must have been a serial killer in my previous life. That’s the only explanation I can think of for the atrocious luck that has taken over my life lately. What kind of person has this many bad things happen in such a short amount of time? This time, I can’t fully blame that bitch Karma, just my stupid mouth and my need to prove that Tanner Garrison was full of shit. At least I can’t think of anything more that could go wrong now.
I just had to jinx myself, right? All I want to do is go home, drink a bottle of wine, and eat a gallon of ice cream. But my piece-of-shit car has other plans. I turn the key again and again, but the damn car won’t start. I hear the engine trying to turn, but nothing happens. My battery must be dead. Seriously, fuck my life. Here come the tears. I know there’s no stopping them now. I’m crying, sweating, and racking my brain trying to figure what the hell to do. I can’t afford a tow truck, and I don’t want to call Quinn right now. The second she picks up the phone, she’ll know something is wrong and I don’t feel like getting into everything right now. I get out of the car and pop open the hood, hoping that maybe I can fiddle with the battery or something. Please, God, just cut me a break for a minute! Funny how this was supposed to be the day everything turned around and instead I’ve had the morning from hell.
One would think that after so many crappy things happening in one morning, perhaps the universe would take pity on me. Not if your name is Ashley Mitchell. Instead, the universe seems hell bent on piling on as much misery as possible. I’m pretty sure my breaking point isn’t far off.
"Everything okay?" I hear the last person I want to see ask from the truck that’s pulled up beside me. Why does he have to be the one to witness the rest of my morning meltdown? I don’t want him to see me in this condition, so I muster up all the composure left in me. I wipe my tears discreetly, stand tall, and take what I hope will be a calming breath.
"Yes. Everything‘s fine. Thanks, though," I answer as politely as I can without turning around.
"You sure? It doesn’t seem like it. Just wanted to make sure you're good before I leave." God damn his good guy act. I hear the truck door open. No, please, no! Don’t come over here. Why can’t he just be the asshole I want him to be?
"No, really, it’s okay, Mr. Garrison. I’m fine. You can go," I think my voice sounds pretty convincing until I hiccup—well, more like a sob-hiccup blend. I’m sure he hears it. And then my phone rings again from inside my pocket. I pull it out. Dom again. I don’t want to answer. If I pick it up, Tanner will definitely notice my crying. But there is no way that I can ignore it because Dom is already furious with me.
"Hello?" I answer, forcing every bit of self-control I have left into my voice.
"I don’t know what you did or said, and I don’t really care, but you’d better find a way to apologize to Garrison. His agent said he would talk to him to see if he’ll let us the run the article as long as he gets to approve it first. So you’d better write the article of your life, and whatever you did to piss him off better be left out. I’m not kidding. You’d better fix this mess. I thought you were better than this."
Damn, does he know exactly how to make me feel like shit... I have nothing to say but, "Okay, I will Dominick. I will. I'm sorry." All of my remaining calm goes out the window as the call ends. I can’t keep the tears in anymore.
I’d assumed Tanner had left, but then I hear him clear his throat. Fantastic! Just what I need. I try to pull myself together before I turn to face him, but there’s nothing left to pull together. It’s at least a hundred degrees, I'm crying, I’m pretty sure that my job is on the line, and now I have to try to smooth things over with the man witnessing my meltdown.
I close the hood of the car and turn toward him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Garrison. I didn’t mean to upset you earlier. That wasn’t my intention, honestly. It wasn’t anything personal. I’ll be fine here. I don’t want to waste anymore of your time today. Again, I apologize. Nothing about your personal life will be written if you’re still willing to give me the chance to print the article. You have my word." Once I finish my little speech, I round my car, get in, and close the door. I just want him to leave so I can get myself together and call someone to help me. Maybe my dad would be willing to come get me. But I need Tanner to leave first.
Chapter 4
TANNER
Sometimes I wish I could be the asshole that everyone thinks I am. Ashley must really believe that I’m that asshole if she thinks I’m going to leave her alone, crying in her car that won’t start in one-hundred-degree weather. I’m pretty sure I know why she’s crying. I wanted to dislike her after the way she’d insulted me during our interview. But I can’t seem to hold on to that anger after seeing her so broken down. She must have thought I’d left when she took that call. I watched her sit on her front bumper after she hung up, hang her head in her hands and start crying.
Ten minutes ago, I wanted to have her fired. I’d wanted nothing more than to see her the way she is now—upset and remorseful. But now that I see her torn up, it doesn’t make me feel as good as I thought it would, and I just want to fix it. She still hasn’t looked at me. Each time she speaks, she keeps her head down, hiding her face, and I seem to have gone back to being Mr. Garrison.
If I let her print the article…? The meaning of her words dawns on me. Damn, Davis moves fast. I feel bad for her, but she has brought this on herself. I stand, watching her sit in that hot box of a car. She’ll probably pass out if she stays in there much longer.
I walk up to her window and knock. "Ashley, I don’t have any jumper cables, but let me give you a ride somewhere, and we can deal with your car later."
"If you stay in there any longer, I’m going to be calling you an ambulance instead of just driving you home. And stop calling me Mr. Garrison. I told you, it’s Tanner." I semi-yell at her through the closed car window.
"No, thank you. I’ll be fine, I swear. Please just carry on with your day. I really appreciate the offer, though," she declines again, as though I’m giving her a choice.
Jesus, she has to be dying in there. Enough of this. I open the door and feel the heat immediately. "No, Ashley. You’re coming with me. You may very well think I’m a womanizing asshole, but I won’t leave you sitting here in a one-hundred-fifty-degree car. No way in hell. So please just get out of the car so I can take you where you need to go." I reach into the car to pull her out. She has to be nuts if she thinks I’m going to leave her here in this heat. She tries to resist, so I grip her hand a little tighter and try to get her to step out of the car.
"You must’ve misunderstood me. I’m not leaving you here. Let’s get a move on, please," I clarify, hoping she’ll finally make a move to get into my truck.
She finally picks her head up and looks at me. It's the first glimpse of her face that I have gotten since I stormed out of the interview. Her face is red and blotchy. Her eyes are a little swollen and her nose is running. She looks like she’s been through the ringer. I’m really glad my mother raised me well, because I hadn’t wanted to stop and help her. But I’d known that my conscience would eat me alive if I hadn’t. I suddenly feel the urge to make sure she’s okay. And not just by taking her home. What the fuck is up with that? I never let people affect me this way. That’s how you get yourself into trouble.
"Come on. I’ll take you home, and we’ll settle your car later. Everything will be all right," I say sincerely. I really do want to make sure this girl is okay. What the hell is going on with me today? My emotions are all over the place and I’m typically not an emotional guy. First, I’d wanted to fuck her, then I’d wanted to wring her neck, and now all I want to do is put a smile on her face.
Inhibitions Page 3
