This annoying heat shot up my neck. It was the same unsettling feeling I hadn’t been able to shake since the last practice. It threw me off more than I cared to admit.
“Because you’re stuttering, sweetheart.”
“I am not stuttering,” I said, tightening my grip on the envelope.
I totally was.
“Sounded like it to me.”
I blinked my eyes a few times, attempting to clear the masculine figure standing in front of me. “I just wasn’t expecting you to be half-naked when I came in here.”
This was a distraction I didn’t need. And I sounded like a total airhead.
He cocked his head to the side. “You are in the locker room, Becca. It’s very common to find naked men in here. What did you expect?”
Apparently, whatever progress we made the other day was gone. I thought maybe today would be easier. Instead, it felt like a step backward.
“I’ve spent time in a lot of locker rooms. This is nothing new, Nate.”
He hummed, clearly not buying it. “You sure about that?”
I inhaled, trying to choose my words carefully. This assignment was off to a great start. The man was hot and cold. I could see where he could throw his opponents off.
I held out the envelope, feeling my face burn. “My boss wanted me to deliver this in person. It’s a contract outlining boundaries, like what’s off-limits and what you’re comfortable talking about.”
He glanced at the envelope and back at me. “This isn’t typical protocol.”
“It’s not. Daphene wanted to make sure you were comfortable with the interview agreement, considering this story will cover sensitive topics.”
He dragged a hand along his jaw. “Interview agreement? That’s what you’re calling this.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I’ve never had a reporter hand-deliver paperwork to my locker room before. Maybe setting some boundaries is a good idea.”
Oh, no, he fucking didn’t.
I’ve been in worse situations than this. Walked into heated arguments and had athletes storm out of an interview because they didn’t like the questions. Even had a player give me the bird and tell me to fuck off.
Nothing rattled me. And this shouldn’t, but it did.
I was five six, maybe five seven, depending on what shoes I was wearing, and the man could probably toss me across the room without breaking a sweat. Still, I lifted my chin, ready to square off with him. “I am a professional. This would be less awkward if you weren’t half-naked.”
He tilted his head again and studied me like I was the most fascinating thing on the planet. “You are making it sound like I planned this.”
“I wouldn’t put it past you.”
A slow grin spread across his face. “I was showering, for Christ’s sake. That’s what those are there for.” He pointed over to the bathroom. “You could have easily waited outside if you wanted to.”
“You could have gotten dressed first,” I said, trying to block out how good he smelled. The scent of cedarwood and soap filled my nostrils, and I was suddenly questioning my life choices. I should have waited for him in the lobby.
“And deprive you of this view? That would be rude.”
I should have said something witty to put him in his place. Found some professional words to throw back at him to reclaim my balance, but the longer I stood there, the more awkward I felt.
“This is completely inappropriate,” I reminded him. If he thought he could intimidate me or, God forbid, charm me into submission, he was mistaken.
“What? You standing here, staring at me like a piece of meat you want to sample? Yeah, I couldn’t agree more.”
