“Of course not.” I join him on the small sofa, careful to leave space that neither of us really wants.
“Maybe we can talk while we wait for the lights to come back?”
“Could be a while.”
“I have nothing but time.”
The way his lips curl up in a sexy smile makes my stomach clench.
“Alright,” he says. “Is it on the record?”
“Only if you want it to be.”
He studies me for a second, then nods.
Before he can change his mind, I ask, “Why don’t you trust reporters?”
He exhales, his gaze fixed on the fire. For a second, I don’t think he’s going to answer. “Last production I worked on, an actress got thrown off a horse. It was her own damn fault. She wouldn’t listen and spooked the horse with her antics. She was fine. Bruised and scared and her ego was hurt of course. But someone leaked the story, saying we forced her to do unsafe things with the horse and that we pushed the animals too hard. The studio and production company threw me under the bus instead of telling the truth. I lost every contract I had within the span of a week.”
“That’s awful,” I whisper, genuinely horrified.
“That’s just the way they are,” he says. “Reporters aren’t looking for the truth. They’re looking for the best story.”
“Not all of us.”
He shrugs as he glances over at me. “Right,” he says softly. “Not all of you.”
“Do you believe that?”
“I do,” he says without hesitation. “What’s your story?”
I pull my leg up close to my chest and wrap my arms around it as I stare into the fire. Somehow, the firelight makes it easier to talk. “This is my first big feature,” I tell him. “I was hired to polish and copy edit other pieces, but when no one wanted this—I mean, when it came up.”
But I caught myself too late. Cash laughed. “No one wanted this assignment? Grumpy ol’ cowboys too much for the soft city reporters?”
“Their loss,” I said honestly. “This is the kind of break I’ve been waiting for. The type of assignment that decides if I get taken seriously. I keep telling myself I’m doing it for the story, but I think it’s more about proving it to myself if I’m honest.”
His eyes meet mine in the dim light, and the space between us disappears. “You’re doing fine, city girl.”
The nickname shouldn’t sound the way it does in his voice. Sweet, soft and…flirty.
I smile, that same strange pull toward him again. “Thanks.”
The silence stretches, filled only by the cracking of the fire and the wind outside. It’s warm in the cabin now, but when his hand brushes mine on the couch, shivers shoot straight through me.
When I turn to look at him, he’s already watching me.
The air changes. His fingers wrap around mine. Tighter.
I should say something. Remember that this is an interview. It’s on the record. I need to be professional. But I can’t. My pulseis too loud. My heart’s too busy remembering what his mouth felt like when I kissed him.
He leans in. Just a fraction.
“We shouldn’t,” I whisper.
“I know.” He searches my face, his eyes dark and steady. “I’m older than you. You’re here for the story.”
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” I know it’s a lie the moment the words slip from my lips. “It can just be?—”
