Irresistibly Yours (Oxford #1)(17)

“I live in New York City and have dated a lot of women. Of course I know about Sex and the City.”

“A lot, hmm? How many is a lot?”

He winked. “Fishing? Seeing if I’m available?”

Penelope patted his arm. “Definitely not. You’re pretty, but don’t worry. You’re safe with me.”

Cole lifted an eyebrow. “How’s that?”

She pursed her lips and tilted her head to study him.

Cole laughed. “Why do I feel like I should be giving you my good side? To see if I pass muster?”

“Oh, don’t fret, this is quite nice,” she said, lifting her hand to gesture over his face.

“But you’re still not feeling the pull, huh?”

Penelope took a sip of beer. “Are you?”

He blinked in surprise. “What?”

She shifted in her barstool to face him. “Take it all in. Are you feeling light-headed? Dazzled by my feminine charms?”

“Ah—”

“Exactly,” she said, looking strangely satisfied with his nonreaction. “You’re out of my league, Sharpe.”

He opened his mouth, and she shocked the hell out of him by leaning forward and tapping a finger over his lips very matter-of-factly.

“Don’t even,” she said. “This is how it’s going to be, okay? I don’t have any illusions about the fact that I’m a friend-zone kind of girl, and I’m okay with that. Plus, lucky for you, I’m a darn good friend.”

He tried to speak, but she kept right on talking.

“Plus, we have a career in common, and let’s be honest, there aren’t that many sportswriters out there, so we should stick together, right?”

“I—”

“You can’t say no,” she chattered on. “Because I’m new to the city and desperate for a friend, and I like you. But that’s where it ends, okay? At like. You don’t have to worry that I’ll get the wrong idea about what this is because I won’t. But in return, you have to promise not to flirt.”

Cole could only stare at her.

It was the strangest conversation he’d ever had with a woman. He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a woman tell him quite so plainly that she didn’t want anything romantic from him.

Which was fine—he wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend, and even if he were, this chatty little tomboy wasn’t really his type.

Still, he couldn’t help being a little insulted by her easy dismissal of him as a potential lover.

And her insistence that he not flirt—Cole wasn’t sure he even knew where that line was anymore. What was the difference between friendly and flirty?

Penelope pointed a finger at him. “You’re overthinking this.”

He grabbed another celery stick and bit into it as he studied her. “Well, I do have a question. Since you have this so planned out, and all.”

“Shoot,” she said, taking a sip of her beer.

He leaned forward a little. “There is the not so tiny detail that as of now we’re actively competing for the same job. What happens when one of us gets it?”

And despite his surprise affection for Tiny, he would get the job. He had to. Rent at his brother’s adult-care home got more expensive every time Cole blinked, and Cole couldn’t bear the thought of Bobby’s having to move away from his friends if Cole hit a gap in his freelance contracts.

He needed that steady paycheck.

Penelope shrugged. “Why would that make a difference? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I want the job. I want it badly. But if you get it…well, then, I have to think you’re the best person for Oxford. And I’ll be happy for you.”

Cole could only shake his head. “You’re a unique creature, Penelope Pope.”

“What about you? If I get the job, can you handle it? We can still be friends?”

Cole glanced down at their near-empty glasses. “Another round?”

“Sure,” she said slowly, “but you didn’t answer the question.”

He lifted his hand to get the bartender’s attention. “We can absolutely be friends,” he told her.

“Even if I get the job,” she pressed, sounding doubtful.

Cole glanced over and smiled before chucking her playfully under the chin. “Oh, Tiny. That ain’t never gonna happen.”





Chapter 6


Penelope: Your precious Yankees aren’t looking so hot.

Cole: You watch your filthy Chicago mouth.

Penelope: Hmm, maybe I need glasses, because I keep looking at my TV, and I’m seeing Chicago White Sox: 6, New York Yankees: 2…What are you seeing?

Cole: The Yanks will come back. They always do.

Penelope: Has anyone told you how cute your delusions are?

Cole: Not recently. Want to come over and tell me to my face?

Penelope: Nice try, Sharpe. I’m quite comfortable on my own couch, thank you very much.

Cole: Fair enough…What are you wearing?

Penelope: Goodbye, Cole.

—

Cole Sharpe was good at a lot of things. Baseball. Putting furniture together. Cooking steak.

Sex.

But waiting was not on his list of skills.

And when an entire week passed after his interview without any word from Cassidy, Cole was past impatient and heading toward pissed.