Page 13 of The Trade

“Come on, Jade.” His laughter fills the air, bright and surprising, an ember kindling in his eyes. “Not everything you write is complete garbage, I’m sure.”

“Contrary to popular belief, Theo, it kind of is,” I counter, keeping my voice low. “The day I get to write about something truly interesting ...well, that’s gonna be a cold day in Hell.”

“It’s West,” he corrects me again with an indulgent smile. “And what is it that you want to write about?”

“Not important.”

His grin spreads wider. “Aw, come on. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“Fine.” I sigh, my hands clasped on the table, a silent signal of surrender. “I’d like to write for the sports section, but my editor is against the idea. Honestly, I just wanted to cover, like, one of your games last season.”

His brows shoot up. “You want to write about football?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice laced with dry sarcasm. “But apparently, I’m not qualified, just because I’m not part of some good ol’ boys club.”

His scoff is indignant, his expression morphing into disbelief. “Your editor doesn’t think you can write about football just because you’re a woman?”

“Don’t act all surprised. I saw your reaction when Shan mentioned I’m a football fan.”

He winces, a twinge of guilt crossing his face. “You’re right. That was part of my shitty mood ...not that I’m making excuses.”

I wave him off, working to keep my tone neutral. “Go on.”

He rubs the back of his neck again. “You wouldn’t believe how many girls lie about being some big fan of mine. It gets old pretty fast.”

“Oh yeah.” A snort escapes me. “Must be utterly exhausting, having all these gorgeous women falling all over you.”

He looks straight into my eyes, sincerity etched into his features. “It is when it’s not genuine ... when it’s not about me at all. I could be any random guy on the team, so long as I’m a football player.”

Something strange coils inside my gut. A pang of . . . what? Some sort of sympathy that surprises me, considering the awful impression he’s made so far. I pause, taking the opportunity to truly soak in his features.

Tall, strong jawline, dark hair. Toned, tan arms. Not to mention those hands. And his eyes, they’re a deep caramel brown, a sweet concoction of butter and brown sugar. He’s a good-looking guy, no doubt about that. And he might have a decent personality ... when he’s not acting like an arrogant dick for no good reason.

I clear my throat, an attempt to regain my composure. “Well, I definitely don’t operate that way.”

He presses on. “So, you’ve never had a crush on a Dayton football player?”

“Not a chance.”

“An NFL player, then?”

“. . . Maybe,” I finally relent. It’s not as if I can help it. Some of the guys on my brother’s team are just... well, there’s really no words to describe the physique of a pro football player.

His smirk returns in full force. “I knew it. Come on, Jade. Who’s your dream man?”

“I think I’ve overshared enough.”

He raises a thick brow, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “You can tell me some other time, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll see,” he dismisses my protest with a casual wave of his hand.

“Whatever. All I’m saying is that I’m not a jersey chaser.”

“Nah, I suppose you aren’t.” He gives me a genuine smile, a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions.”

“You definitely shouldn’t have,” I say. “And now it’s your turn. Pay up.”

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