Page 5 of Scoring His Obsession

Oh. My. God.

This cannot be happening.

“Athena!” I say sharply.

But it’s too late. Everyone sees. Everyone points and laughs while dread settles in my stomach.

“Whoa, it’s not that kind of show,” Paula chuckles.

All the while, Athena looks back at me, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. It only takes her a moment to see my trepidation, and she jumps off and sits by me again, nudging my palm with her head.

“I guess it runs in the family,” Micah jokes, his brown gaze cutting to mine again.

Then I die of embarrassment, never to be resuscitated.

2

Micah

A few hours earlier…

The upbeat music of my jogging playlist thrums in my ear. Two squirrels fight over a nut to my right as other joggers pass me going the opposite way to my left. None of them pay any attention to me.

The breeze picks up as I follow the winding path. I take a deep breath of the fresh air. Central Park. If I have to be in New York, this is the place to spend time in. Green grass. Leaves blowing in the wind. It reminds me of home.

My feet press into the trail at a rhythm that barely registers, my arms swinging freely beside me. The sunrise hovers above the tree line as if it’s trying to peek through, but it’s not yet awake, giving the sky a sleepy orange glow.

It always surprises me when I jog here how many people have the same idea. Back home, if I go jogging, I might meet a few others, but nothing like this.

My music cuts off, and a beeping sound replaces it. I hit the Answer button, and Joey’s voice slides into my ears in a muchmore boring, curt way than the music had. “You’re not in your hotel room.”

“No, I’m in New York.”

“I know you’re in New York, but you’re not in your hotel room.”

“Joey, I’m in New York,” I remind him, and something must click in that overly critical brain of his.

“I see. I’ll re-route the limo to Central Park.”

“Because when I’m in New York…” I pause, waiting for him to repeat my saying back to me.

“You go jogging in Central Park.”

“Good.”

“Oh, I’m so glad I can still make you proud,” he deadpans.

I smirk, a snicker pushing up my throat. Joey’s been my assistant for a few years, and he’s got that organized black and white thing going for him. He likes things easy and on schedule. He hates gray areas and blurred lines, and he’s a straight shooter.

“The limo will take you to the studio where you’ll be on The Paula Show.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ll be my charming, approachable self.”

“Be better than your charming, approachable self. Be…Parker.”

I huff out a laugh and turn back toward the entrance I started from. He’s right. That guy is a PR’s dream, and he’s also a damn good quarterback. “I’m so sorry you’re slumming it in the Micah Freeman camp.”

“RIP my career. Now,” he says, getting back down to business. “I’ll make sure the show knows you’ll need to shower. Hair and makeup. And?—”

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