“Why are people always so serious-looking in these old-timey photos?” she murmured.
“They had to hold still for so long. Forcing a smile might have been too hard.”
She pointed at the plaque and began reciting the text. “‘Adeline Rose and Big Jim were a famous bank-robbing duo known for their passionate arguments and even more passionate makeups. After a bank heist in Grand Junction, they came to Telluride to hole up at Adeline’s sister’s brothel. But for reasons no one is entirely clear on, the feisty couple got into an argument in their room. The result was a duel in the street out in front of the brothel. They walked ten paces and each turned to fire. Neither aimed to miss.’ And get a load of this last part.” Neve nudged Tor. “‘But the two deadly lovebirds seemed to have found peace in the afterlife. Couples in love often find ghostly signs from the duo and take it as a sign of good luck.’ I guess that’s one way to spin a sketchy situation. Kudos to The Adeline’s marketing team.”
“You aren’t armed and dangerous, are you?” Tor murmured in her ear, his breath heating her skin.
“If anyone is packing a big weapon here, it’s you.” She turned and glanced between his legs with an arch look.
His laugh was short and gruff. “Your sexual-innuendo game is as strong as your sarcasm.”
She smirked. “And here I didn’t even know that I possessed this rare talent until spending time in your orbit.”
His frank gaze went wolfish. “I can’t stop wondering what other rare talents you possess.”
She had the grace to blush even as heat sparked between her legs. “I suppose you got a taste last night?”
“And here I am hungry for more.”
“You make me sound like your personal smorgasbord.”
“Must be the Swede in me,” he deadpanned before adding, “But look. Today we’re in Telluride together and on a truce. I’d like to spend time hanging out. And maybe with Olive.”
“Your daughter.” Before she could let the full impact of his invitation sink in, her stupid phone rang. Again. Scott.
“Ugh, I’m sorry. This is my boss. I have to take this. He is being relentless.”
“He’s being a bastard. But I get it. Work’s important. Go ahead and do what you need to do.” He paused before turning away. “Oh, and try to resist checking me out while I walk over here to stretch.”
That sense of humor, where had he been hiding it?
“Scott. You’re persistent.” She flicked on her phone, walked across the street and leaned against a streetlight. “I was about to call you back.”
“Tell me more, Angel,” he snapped. Typical. Her boss always cut right to the chase. Not unlike the man doing calf stretches next to the building across the street. Or at least his old version.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Don’t play coy. I’m looking here at the last article you sent, and in the email you mentioned you were taking a weekend trip out of the city. To go to Telluride. With Tor Gunnar. What’s the deal?”
“Well, it is just... I lost this bet and I sort of kind of ended up with him here at this wedding in Telluride.”
“Bullshit.”
“No bulls. I speak the truth.”
No one had a laugh like Scott—a cross between a braying donkey and a hyena.
She’d hear that laugh after the punch line to off-color jokes in the newsroom. Usually referencing women.
Hey, Neve. Why do women make better soldiers? Because they can bleed for a week and not die.
She’d try to eye roll it off. After all, he was happily married. He had a kid up at the University of Wyoming and a grown daughter in Boise. He didn’t have groping hands or a wandering, lecherous gaze.
It wasn’t like she had some big case to take to Human Resources. What was she going to say? His jokes made her feel annoyed and uncomfortable? That he made her dream job far less dreamy? That he’d been bemused to come into the editor role and find her covering the hockey beat? Once he’d caught wind about her being a former figure skater, it was all over. She’d had to prove she wasn’t a girly girl.
What irony—not feminine enough for figure skating but too girly for sports journalism. She wished at this point in history that things like sexism and gender inequality never reared their ugly heads, but the truth was there was a great deal of work still to be done.
When it came to her field, there was an undeniable gender imbalance across print, broadcast and online platforms in sports journalism. Men—especially white men—dominated, while female reporters were left getting nitpicked on the internet about their outfits or bodies rather than respected for their sports punditry.
