Sweet Spot: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Bad Boys of Summer Book 2) (6 page)

I found myself nodding, even smiling, before rising from my seat and stalking out of his office. “Sure.”

When I got back to my desk, my inbox held the boarding information for my flight to the first stop on the trip, Denver.

“Great…just great…” I growled to myself, hitting the print key so hard the keyboard creaked.

Josie

After leaving my meeting with Mr. Jones, I’d gone home to pack and console myself by pretending the ten-day trip was something of a mini-vacation. I’d be put up in hotels, have all my meals paid for by the station, and when I wasn’t on duty as a reporter, I could take a few hours to explore the cities I was staying in.

Apparently Mr. Jones wasn’t kidding about the budget restraints bound around the station. At least if the state of my hotel room was any indicator. It wasn’t
dumpy
, per se, but it wasn’t all that I’d imagined either. For whatever reason, traveling in an official capacity for a large news station looked a lot more glamourous in my head. The visions of first class flights and fancy hotel rooms were quickly shattered.

When I pushed through the door of my hotel room in Denver, I was reminded just how low on the totem pole I actually was.

“A-listing it all the way, huh, Jo?” I mumbled before throwing my suitcase onto the bed. I hadn’t packed much, but I hadn’t managed to stuff ten days’ worth of outfits into a carry-on bag. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to wrangle Trey into giving me an exclusive during the road trip, or if I would just be another face in the crowd the entire time, but either way—I wasn’t going to be caught in cut offs and cowboy boots again.

As soon as I checked out the room, I shucked out of my leggings, oversize tee-shirt dress, and ballet flats and hit the shower. I wanted the creepy airplane air off of my skin as soon as possible. When I got out, I toweled off and then wrapped my wet hair in the thin towel and threw on my navy blue cotton robe. After a day of travel, I had no intention of going anywhere. I was more than happy to settle into bed, order room service, and watch something on the station’s dime. It was the least they could do.

Really.

However, after twenty minutes of rummaging through the brochures and room information, I discovered the hotel didn’t have a restaurant, and therefore, did not offer room service. I growled and tore my robe off, tossed it onto the back of a chair and tugged on a pair of jeans, not even bothering to find a clean pair of panties, and then threw on a sports tank top with a built in bra, and an off the shoulder blouse after that. My hair was slightly dried after being bound up in the towel, but it was still damp and fell in wet ringlets. The cold ends tickled my bare shoulders, so I threw it up in a loose ponytail before heading out of my room.

I remembered seeing a fast food joint half a block away and although it was far from ideal, it would be more satisfying than the last crumbs of airplane pretzels that my body was clinging to from the afternoon flight. As soon as I stepped outside the front doors, a heavenly aroma hit my nose, and veered me to the left. Another hotel was directly across the street from my dive and the mouthwatering scent floated across the busy road. A place like that would have an in-house restaurant. It would be a helluva lot better than stale fast food, I thought, glancing in the direction of the neon lights and line at the drive through.

I hurried to the crosswalk and waited for the signal to change before rushing across the street. Compared to the places I stayed on family vacations, the hotel itself wasn’t fancy, but it was light years ahead of my own temporary shack. As soon as I entered the front doors, I felt out of place in my way too dressed down style. A river rock fireplace was roaring with bright, dancing flames, and classical music was piped through the place, punctuated with the sound of shoes clicking on the parquet entry and the sound of hushed conversation as people came and went. I spotted the restaurant off on the left and made a beeline. I’d just order something to go. I wouldn’t have to stay.

“Good evening, miss,” a friendly man greeted as he held open the door for me.

I nodded. “Evening. Uhm, can I just see a menu? I think I’ll order something to go.”

“Of course.” He reached into a cubby on his side of the podium and handed me a leather bound menu. “Take-out orders can be made with the bartender.” He pointed through an arched entryway.

“Thank you,” I replied, taking the menu and heading in the direction of the bar. The place was moderately busy, but the bar was nearly empty when I stepped inside. I ducked into the nearest booth and peeled back the cover of the menu and began perusing my choices, each one sounding more delicious than the one before.

I was lost in my choices, mentally debating between macaroni salad or a baked potato on the side, when a smooth, buttery tone interrupted my thoughts and sent my heart careening into a cement wall, “Hey there, cowgirl.”

I dropped the menu. It landed with a thump on the table. My eyes flew to the sparkling set across from me and my mouth dropped open. “What are you doing here?”

Trey Delgado leaned back in the booth across from me and grinned. “Same thing you’re doing, I’d imagine.”

I sighed. Of course. Mr. Jones had mentioned that my hotel accommodations would be close to the team’s but not at the same hotels. Likely because of the price. I just never imagined they’d be staying at the hotel literally a hundred feet or so away from mine. “You’re staying at this hotel, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His smile darkened. “You want a tour of my suite? You’d like it. I guarantee it.”

I grimaced. He clearly had a high opinion of himself. “Arrogant much? And no, shockingly enough, I don’t.”

My fingers tapped on the spine of the thick menu as a new mental debate started in my head. Damn he was hot. I couldn’t decide if I should stay and order something to go, pretending he didn’t bother me—or cut my losses and run back over to the fast food joint. After seeing all of the delicious choices on the menu—and the man sitting across from me—I knew a cold basket of chicken fingers wasn’t going to satisfy me. But it would probably be less trying than sitting here with Trey hanging over me, sweet talking me non-stop, trying to get me back up to his hotel room.

Decisions, decisions…

“Your call. I’ll keep the offer open in case you change your mind.”

“Well that’s a relief,” I scoffed.

Trey smirked at me and gave an exaggerated glance around the bar. “Where’s your camera guy?”

“Oklahoma City. Why?”

“You two a thing?”

I curled my lip back with disgust. “Are you for real? Just because I have a guy for a camera man, you think I’m sleeping with him? Kinda chauvinistic, ya think?” Ugh, men like Trey pissed me off. It was like a girl could only get ahead in this world if she was putting out for it.

He chuckled and swiped the menu from my hands. “What looks good?” he asked, dropping his attention to the menu options. “Besides you?”

I grabbed the menu back and spun it to face me. “Dude, I’m so not in the mood for smart assed company.”

My heart hammered in my chest, and I knew I was giving up an opportune moment to ask him some questions and worm my way into an exclusive interview with him. But there was something about him that just worked me up—emotionally
and
physically—and all I wanted was for him to go away. I was flustered, angry, and hot for him all at the same time.

Trey looked at me for a long moment, a twisted smile still quirked on his full lips, his eyes sparkling like fucking diamonds. After a few seconds, he dropped it, and looked at me with something I was tempted to confuse with sincerity. As if that was possible for a man like Trey. “Wow. I feel like we got off on the wrong foot here. Josie, right?”

“Yes, my name is Josie. How impressive that you remembered.” I fisted my hands around the edges of the thick menu cover. I hated not being able to control my thoughts around this man.

“How could I forget? Let me buy you a drink and dinner or something to apologize.”

I leveled him with an unblinking stare. “For what?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said you want to apologize. I’m asking for what. What makes you think you need to apologize?”

He stumbled for a moment and I internally gave a fist pump of triumph.
Boom.
I’d thrown him off kilter. “I just mean you seem pissed off about something…”

“And you think it’s your fault?”

He chuckled. “Isn’t it? Or you just go around with a bad attitude all the time?”

I scoffed. “Attitude? Dude, you walked off the plane like you owned it. You act like the whole world revolves around you. I came to have a nice quiet dinner and here you are.” I shook my head. “This isn’t about you.”
Or those beautiful muscles straining your shirt.

He frowned. “Damn, woman, what the hell did I do to you? Usually I don’t get this level of shit until day two…”

I snapped the menu closed. Trey winced at the slapping sound and it sent a tiny thrill through me. “You’re a funny guy. You won’t even make it past day one.”

“Wanna bet? You’re in
my
hotel bar. I’m not in yours.” He laughed. At me. Damn him!

I leaned over the table and dropped my voice. “I’m just doing my job, Mr. Big Shot. And I got a little hungry. I’m not here picking up last week’s has-beens.”

“Ouch!” he grabbed his chest with his hand, faking a heartbreak. “Baby that hurt!” he laughed. “So what are you doing here? Besides eating? And breaking my damn heart?”

“You are too much, Trey Delgado!” I said a little louder than I’d wanted to. “I’m a reporter. And yes, I’m following the team. But that’s a far cry from stalking you. I’m not even staying at this hotel! I’m across the street. Just here for a quiet dinner. Although, I think I can safely say that’s not happening,” I added, giving him a fierce glare.

“A sports reporter, huh?” He leaned back in the booth and crossed his arms. “Then why haven’t I seen you with the other
sports
reporters at practice? I haven’t seen you talking to the team, the coaches, or even the owner. If you’re really following the team, why weren’t you there?”

Damn, so he had a brain somewhere in his beautiful delusional self. “I’m new to this gig. I’m doing the ten city tour with the team and then I’m done. I’m not a sports reporter.”

He considered me for a long moment. “You’re here because of me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right back into ego-maniac territory, huh?”

He shrugged. “I’m just calling it like I see it. You don’t have a support crew with you, you’re not a sports reporter, and you’re doing the ten city tour and then you wanna jet. Doesn’t scream sports story to me. Something else is cooking up in that pretty little head.”

I flicked a glance to the beads of condensations rolling down my water glass. I refused to get all flustered and embarrassed in front of him. When I returned my eyes to his, he was wearing an infuriating little grin. I leaned back in my seat. “Fine, you caught me. I’m here to fawn over you day and night, follow you around like a little lost puppy, so you can tell me all your secrets. Oh, wait a minute. I don’t have to, because your clusterfuck of a personal life is already front page news. On every news channel and tabloid cover in grocery stores and mini marts from coast to coast,” I retorted, drenching my words with as much sarcasm as possible.

Instead of being repelled, he just laughed. “Did you just say clusterfuck?”

“I did. You do know what that means, don’t you?” I turned to get the attention of a passing waitress and placed my order—emphasizing with a side glance at Trey, that the order was to go—and Trey took the chance to order himself a beer. Something fancy, high-brow. I didn’t care much for beer and where I came from, people were just as content to crack open a can of Budweiser than to go for some small batch, craft beer with a hipster label on the bottle.

Before the waitress left, Trey glanced at me. “You want something to drink? On me.”

I shook my head, and looked around at all the empty tables in the room. Could I just get up and walk away? Would he follow? How long was my food going to take? I sighed and changed my mind. A drink might be just what I needed to calm my nerves. “Actually, you know what, I’ll take a hurricane.”

The waitress noted it down and backed off, smiling with the promise the drinks would be right out. Trey smirked over at me. “A hurricane. That sounds like the perfect drink for a girl like you.”

“Why’s that?” I squirmed in my seat under the dark stare and half-cocked smile he was giving me.

“You have an effect on guys like me. We know you’re trouble, but wanna chase the storm anyways.”

I laughed, the sound a hollow, bark. “
I’m
trouble?”

He grinned wider. “One hundred percent.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not trouble. I’m tame, at least compared to your usual type…” I added, leveling him with another long glance, seeing if he’d take the bait.

He shrugged. “Maybe that’s why you’re trouble. With my so-called
usual
type, I know what I’m getting into. But you…you’re a firecracker—must be the Oklahoma in you. But, there’s definitely something sexy and hurricane-
ish
about you and it’s making me very curious.”

I stared at him, turning over his words, but then broke away from his dark eyes. I laughed and shook my head, marveling that I’d almost let myself get sucked in to those beautiful milk chocolatey pools. “Damn, you’re good. I’ll give you that. But sorry, Trey, I’m not going to fall for your lines.”

He chuckled and paused while the waitress returned with our drinks. He took a long sip from the top of his beer and I twirled the straw through my drink. “All right, you’re a no-BS kinda girl. I get it. So tell me something about you.”

“Like what?” I took a long sip. Where was my dinner? I needed to get out of here quick—or I wouldn’t be able to tear myself away from him.

Trey

“What do you want to know?”

I shrugged at Josie and tore my eyes from her bee-stung lips long enough to come up with a reply. “Anything. Where you’re from, what you like to do when you’re not working, brothers, sisters? You know. That kinda thing.”