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“Yes and no,” he says, and I’m curious if he still believes I’m sleeping with the coach and can put in a good word for him.
In fact, now that I’ve had the thought, I can’t help but wonder if that’s why he asked me out in the first place—combined, of course, with wanting to prove he was right when he accused me of sleeping with Lincoln.
We place our orders, and we chat about training camp and all things football. I keep trying to bring up Jonah just to prove that he’s a single man who can have pretty much any woman he wants, so why does he want a single mom older than him, but every time I try to drive home that point, he brings up the camps he runs for kids.
We’re getting nowhere. He’s perfectly nice, but I keep trying to figure out his angle, and at this point, I’m starting to think this was a ploy to get me to promote his camps on the podcast.
I’m not really sure what he’s after, and so I wait until the end of the meal after he’s picked up the check to ask. “As a reporter, I’ve become very direct in my line of questioning and I’ve also become very suspicious of intentions. So I have to ask…why’d you want to take me to lunch?”
He chuckles. “Well, I didn’t. If you recall, I wanted a date, preferably for dinner, but I took what you had open. I told you, Jolene. I like you. I find you incredibly attractive. You’re ambitious, and you’re smart, and you’re funny. You seem to be a great mom to your little boy. And on top of all that, nobody would think twice about you dating a player, so it could be mutually beneficial for us both.”
He’s not wrong.
“That’s very sweet, Austin,” I say, and I reach across the table to take his hand in mine. I squeeze his. “I’m just…in a complicated place in my life right now. I don’t want to get into anything.”
“Is that code for letting me down gently? Or is that code for being open to a friends with benefits sort of situation?”
I laugh. “The first one. I’m sorry.”
He stands and lets out a disappointed sigh. “I understand.” He reaches out a hand to help me up, and he gives me a friendly hug. And then he shocks the hell out of me by planting a kiss on my lips.
“Whoa,” I say, planting my hands on his chest and pushing him away.
“I’m sorry,” he says a little sheepishly. “I just thought I could change your mind…”
“By kissing me without an invitation?” My brows dip together. We’re in public, so I rein it in. “Thanks for lunch, Austin. I had a nice time. But I need to get back to work.”
“Of course. I’m so sorry.”
I turn to walk out of the restaurant, and he walks me to my car. He’s gentlemanly, and the kiss back there seemed to just be a little out of character for him. It’s over and done now, and I’m going to choose to leave it in the past.
Except…I can’t.
As soon as I walk into the office, Rivera is at my cubicle waiting for me.
“What the fuck are these?” he asks, and he has prints of photos from my lunch with Austin.
I look through them in confusion…until I get to the last one in the pile.
The one of Austin kissing me.
Confusion turns to anger, and this feels like one big setup.
“Where did you get these?” I ask evenly.
“Someone just emailed them to me,” he says, and he really looks like a little weasel perched there leaning against my desk.
“I literally just left lunch with him. Someone sent these to you already? You didn’t have them taken?”
He puts on the act like he can’t believe I’d suggest such a thing. “First I catch you kissing Nash, and now you’re with a player? Really making the rounds there, Bailey. Wait until Marcus gets a load of these.”
“Fuck off out of here, Rivera,” I mutter.
“Is that how you talk to your boss?”
“No, it’s not. But you’re not my boss. So kindly get the fuck out before I have you removed.”
He laughs. “Okay, yeah.” His tone drips with sarcasm. “Have me removed then.”
