AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Probably, but like I said, I needed to fit in with the guys,” Taran reminded him.
“Free advice,” Corey said, flopping into one of those dainty winged armchairs that only a woman would choose. “If you don’t want to seem girly, don’t decorate your house like Princess Kate’s sitting room and don’t sign your name with bubble letters and hearts.” He also closed his eyes.
“Normally,” her tone packed a bit of a punch, “the only people I let in my house know me.”
“I’m just the exception?” he asked with a grin and wondered if she was really a girly girl, although that didn’t seem to fit her.
“I didn’t invite you over. Your annoying ass barged in,” she replied, and he lost the grin. “How did you find my house anyway?”
“My agent. Resourceful guy, and he should be. I pay him enough,” Corey responded.
“Hot Shots,” she mumbled. “Hate those guys. They make my life crap. I’ve had to promise my firstborn, my left arm and my right one to them multiple times to get access to their athletes.”
“Reporters, I hate them,” Corey mumbled—because it was true.
“Only the females,” she corrected, not getting riled. “With the guys, you’re their best bud.”
“No, I don’t mind the ones who report about the game. The other crap is no one’s business.” Corey glared at her, although she couldn’t see because her eyes were still closed.
“I get it,” she said, and it didn’t even sound sarcastic.
“Really?” How could she say that? Her entire career had been built on telling the world about athletes’ lives outside of the game.
“Yes.” Those sea-green eyes opened and really looked at him. He could see honest remorse in her eyes and maybe even pity, which put his teeth on edge. “At a very young age, your privacy was grossly and inappropriately violated—repeatedly. You were traumatized. Understandably, you get cold feet about color interviews.”
He didn’t want pity, nor did he want her understanding. He wanted her to shut up about it. “You do the same thing every day and get paid for it.”
She sighed. “Have you read any of my articles?”
He scoffed. “I don’t read trash.”
“Maybe read one or talk to someone I wrote about before you write me off, because I don’t write trash.” She stood up and handed him his keys.
He frowned as the keys fell into his palm.
“Get out of my house,” she said.
“Huh?” Corey asked. He thought she wanted another “date” with the Evanses. “Is that supposed to be a punishment because I didn’t want to hang out with you? You were the one blackmailing me.”
“Get. Out.”
She scowled at him, so he stood and walked out, shocked when the door slammed hard behind him.
