Page 56 of The Golden Scoop

I groan. I’m so angry I’ve lost all appetite.

“I can’t think about food right now,” I tell him honestly. “You planned this perfect evening, and it’s not fair on you. I’m so sorry.”

He nods. “That’s okay. I get it. That was weird.”

“It was more than weird. It was rude. I don’t know what he was thinking.” I’m blushing. Mortified, actually. I don’t understand what happened and I definitely can’t explain it.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” he says, trying to lighten the mood. “I still got to see you in this stunning dress.”

“I mean, would you do something like that?” I ask, still in shock. “What was his goal?”

“He seems extremely protective of you.” Tom shrugs. “None of my business and you don’t have to answer, but has there ever been something more between you two? That would explain it.”

I stop in my tracks right in front of the passenger door.

“What? No. Never. I can’t stand him,” I say loud enough to convince both him and myself. “The only reason I even took this assignment was because Martha promised that if it went well, I could finally leave The Scoop behind.”

That used to feel like the only thing I wanted.

“Damn, you’ve been going after that forever.”

I nod and he opens the door for me.

“Yeah. I thought it was going to be easy, but it’s just… annoying,” I complain once he starts driving. “All anyone’s said was how great he is. He’s memorized all these random things about me—don’t even know how—to charm me. Since that wasn’t enough, he insisted on these ‘outings.’ Hence, the surfing.”

“Well, didn’t seem like a good guy to me with how he acted tonight.”

I scoff. “Think I can quote you for the article?”

“You’ll be done in no time,” he encourages. “You’re the best there is.”

“That’s if I survive it. I’ve already been dragged hiking and sailing. Who knows what’s next?”

“I mean…” he says, pulling onto my street, “at least he’s not taking you to weird rich-people parties.”

I hum. I want to argue it’s still a waste of my time, but I can’t. The truth is, I had fun.

Tom walks me to my door but keeps a couple of feet between us.

“I was th⁠—”

“Listen, I⁠—”

We both laugh nervously.

“Sorry, go ahead,” I say.

“Tonight was great, but I think this isn’t working the way I expected,” he says, his voice sincere. “You have a lot going on right now with Matt, and I think it’ll be hard to get to know each other with him around.”

My first people-pleaser instinct is to fix it. Tell him I can make time, that I can figure it out, and that in less than two weeks I’ll be back at the office. But even in my head, that sounds exhausting.

Also, I can’t find it in me to start something with someone I don’t feel even the tiniest spark for. It wouldn’t be fair, to him or to me. Emma Miller doesn’t play with people’s feelings.

“You’re a catch, Tom. I hope you know,” I tell him with a smile. “Gym bro and all.”

“It would’ve grown on you, I’m sure,” he teases. “Friends?”

“Friends,” I agree.