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“Do you think I can’t handle myself around all of those men, Maddox?” she retorts, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Not at all. I think I’m more scared for them.”
She chuckles. “As you and they should be. But this won’t be my first time handling a bunch of boys with overgrown egos and an abundance of testosterone.”
“And just when have you done this before?”
Her eyes fall to her desk as she uncrosses her arms. “Um, just a long time ago.”
That’s all I get, and something tells me she doesn’t want to elaborate on the subject. More than anything, a part of me wants to know why.
“So is there anything you think I should be aware of pertaining to the team or the players?” Her head pops back up as she slips right back into her job.
“Not that I know of. You’ve got to remember, I’ve only been here for a few weeks now. I’ve met some of the guys but not all. And of those I’ve met, I know there are some good men on this team. Family men. Guys with good hearts who just want to play football for a living. But I also know that they want to win, and so do I.”
“Well, teamwork is built outside of the field as much as it is on it.”
“You sound like you have some appreciation and understanding of the game, Penelope. Do you have some experience with a football team?”
“Secondhand experience. Sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve never played football before. This is my first time doing PR for a team, though.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Damn. Why am I now envisioning you in football pads and a helmet regulating grown men on the offensive line?”
She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Because you’re a guy. And I find it disturbing if that vision is one of your fantasies, Maddox. That’s the type of thing you may want to see a therapist about.”
Perhaps, but the vision of her in my jersey with my name splayed across the back is coming in quickly to replace that one.
“I didn’t know it was a fantasy of mine until it was your face I was picturing, although the sight of you wearing my jersey and nothing else might just top it.” She blushes but then covers her cheek with her hand to try to cover it up. “But based on what you’re saying, you know the game. I can hear it in your voice. You’re one of those women who probably understands the mechanics of it better than some men.”
The smile she gives me is one of pure pride. “You bet your ass, I do.”
Throwing my head back, I let out the laugh she inspires in me. “I fucking love it.”
“Glad you approve.” She relaxes into her chair as we stare at one another.
“You know, I wouldn’t mind picking your brain about a few things sometime,” I suggest. “I mean about football, of course.”
Her shoulders fall along with the smile she just gave me. “Maddox...”
“Or about Los Angeles. You know I just moved here. I don’t know much about the city, and with the exception of four hours a day, four days a week, I have plenty of downtime to explore a bit.”
Wearily, she takes the bait. “Well, what are you into?”
“Food, culture, and seeing the little spots that most people miss.”
“There’s no shortage of food everywhere you turn. Any small hole-in-the-wall spot is going to give you some of the best Mexican food of your life. There’s a place called Chevos near UCLA that my girlfriends and I used to go to late at night during college. They have some of the best tacos, burritos, and salsa you’ll ever taste. Although, most of the time we ate there, we were drunk, so take that with a grain of salt.”
I laugh. “Everything tastes better when you’re drunk.”
“Absolutely. You also must go to Frankie’s Diner. My girlfriends and I go to brunch there almost every Sunday, and you won’t be disappointed by anything on the menu, including bottomless mimosas.”
“You like a champagne brunch, huh?”
“Only with my girlfriends,” she clarifies. “If you get really bored or want some adventure, you could visit the popular tourist spots—Warner Bros. Studios, the Getty, Griffith Observatory, Disneyland, Six Flags, Universal Studios, Staples Center—the list goes on and on. Do a Google search, and you can plan out your entire summer with things to do, Maddox.”
“Yeah, I could. It would be better with a guide, though, or someone to tag along and keep me company, someone who knows me and who I can trust. I don’t suppose you know someone who might be available, do you?”
She shakes her head at me. “Look, I know what you’re doing—”
