Page 27 of Hiss and Make Up
“Focus, Sierra. This is the deal. It’s the only deal I’m making with you.”
Sierra considered the offer. She didn’t like the idea of working with anyone. Especially not someone who would try to boss her around and limit her involvement.
But she did need the money. And she needed his permission to check out his dad’s workshop.
Plus, something inside her warmed at the prospect of working with Marc. The idea of being a team. More meetings, more lunches, more car rides together…and looking into those deep brown eyes on a regular basis.
Despite the warm fuzzies, the very idea that those things sounded appealing made her want to hurl her lunch. The last thing she needed was to developfeelingsfor someone she’d already had a failed experiment with.
“Deal.”
The money won. She’d figure out how to keep her feelings in check later. Besides, this would only take a couple of days, then she’d never see Marc again.
“Good.” He slid out of the booth. “Let’s go.”
“Wait, I have more questions before I get started.”
“You can ask me on the way.”
“Oh, right,” she said, remembering her car back at the station.
He shook his head. “I’m not taking you back to your car. Not yet.”
“Where are we going?” She slid out of the booth and followed him.
“Do you want to go to the football game with me? You can ask all the questions you want there.” He nodded back at their table where she’d left a half-eaten basket of food. “I’ll buy you nachos to make up for ruining your lunch.”
She liked nachos.
And he had ruined her lunch by making her bring up their past.
She really liked nachos.
“Wait, I thought your game was later? Why don’t we get my car first?”
“I was thinking we could make a stop at the paper on the way to the stadium.”
“I’m not applying for a job there.”
“We can work on that later.” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking you could help me read through my hate mail.”
“Hate mail? I thought you said you didn’t have any threats or problems?”
A delicious hint of mischief found its way to the edges of his mouth. She fought the urge to close the space between them. To grab his face in her hands and kiss that delicious, mischievous mouth of his.
Marc shrugged. “I lied.”
6
Sierra followed Marc across a narrow parking lot and paused to gawk at the building. Two stories of gray brick and a wall of glass.
The city of Lafayette had a heartbeat. It had a thriving artist community and a strong cultural backbone. When people talked about Lafayette they talked about the people, the food, the music, thefeeling. But there was another side to the city. The corporate side, the oil and gas industry side, the wealth disparity carried on the backs of the workers and artists who kept tourism flowing.
This building where Marc worked, the headquarters for the city’s newspaper, was a shining beacon for that cold, lifeless side.
Marc unlocked the gigantic glass door and held it open for Sierra. With every step, her hiking boots echoed through the sterile lobby. He ushered her past a circular reception desk and up a wide, curved staircase, while she wished with each step that she was back on a trail at her own job.
At the top of the stairs, Marc swiped a key card at the end of a short, narrow hallway. While the lobby had been quiet and orderly, the newsroom reeked of chaos. Low-walled cubicles covered the earth-toned industrial carpet. Doors for meeting rooms lined every wall except the one exposed glass wall providing a false sense of freedom and fresh air. Despite the constant flow of bodies and the hum of printers and the clicking of keys, the space was eerily quiet.
