Her brows shot up at that. “Because women can’t write about baseball?”
I didn’t care if the reporter was a woman, a man, or an alien from Alpha Centauri. It just couldn’t be her. “Because a guy won’t seduce me into the bathroom.”
That was the wrong thing to say. I didn’t mean that she’d acted like some black widow seductress or anything. It was just that I couldn’t think straight around her, let alone improve my hitting. But it was too late to take the words back. And from the hard expression in her eyes, it was too late to make amends. So instead of trying to explain myself, I changed course.
“Why the hell are you a publicist, anyway?” I asked.
“What?”
“You’re smart and beautiful. You could do anything. Why this?”
“Because I like it? Because I’m good at it?”
“You’re spending your life creating lies.”
She gaped at me, but it didn’t take long for her to rally. “They’re not lies,” she snapped. “They’re stories. About real people.”
I folded my arms. She’d just proven my point. “Stories,” I echoed.
“Not lies!”
I shook my head. “The truth matters, Gia. And what you do is create spin.” I gestured at the entire stadium. “About the Bobcats and the players. About what we’re going to do.” I pitched my voice to mock her. “We’re heading for the pennant. Then straight on to the World Series. Everything’s looking great.”
“Youareheading for the pennant! And everything does—”
“Look great? Maybe Rob’s hitting well, but our pitching is hit or miss. Jake can catch a gnat on speed, but his head isn’t in the game right now. And if he hurts Ellie, I’ll break him in half. How will our chances look if I get arrested for murder?”
She stared at me. “You can’t possibly equate marketing with lying.”
I folded my arms across my chest. Shading the truth was still lying. Creating a false image of a man was still false. I wasn’t stupid. I knew that promotion was part of the world. But I could still wish that the world was a better place. Or that the most amazing woman I knew did something else for a living.Anythingelse.
But those were the breaks. And I could tell from Gia’s expression that my hard line wasn’t sitting well with her.
“I am not quitting my job just because you’re messed up in the head.” Then she tugged her dress smartly into place. “And I’m not going to stop writing the articles just because you’re an ass.”
“I’m not going to talk to you. You can’t write anything if I don’t talk.”
She flicked her fingers at me and set her other hand on her hip. “According to you, it’s all lies, anyway. I’ll just make some shit up.”
I snorted. “Do it, and I’ll sue.” It was a ridiculous claim, but at that moment, I believed it. No, I wasn’t thinking logically. Some part of me knew that. But the rest of me was hell-bent on thwarting her, in any way possible.
She shook her head. In truth, her whole body shook. “You are some piece of work, Connor. One minute you’re knuckle-deep inside me, and the next, you’re threatening to sue! Are you trying to get me fired?”
I pulled back. “I’m trying to show you that what you’re doing—this whole path you’re on—won’t work. Not for you. You’re too good for it.”
She gaped at me, and who could blame her? I wasn’t making any sense. And I sure as hell wasn’t someone who could tell her what to do with her life. But I wanted to. Oh, how I wanted to. And while I was fighting for a way to explain my words, she just glared at me, a muscle in her jaw pulsing with fury.
Then she spoke, her voice vibrating with anger. “I’ll tell you what I’m too good for,” she said. “You. I deserve way more than an arrogant, asshole of a jock!” And with that, she whipped around me and stalked out the bathroom door.
Chapter Six
Gia
Idiot. Muttonhead. Ignoramus.
Three hours later, I was still fuming. But I’d pulled out my thesaurus app to make the words really good.
Asshat. Schmuck. Pilgarlic.
