Loving Him Off the Field (Santa Fe Bobcats #2)(77)

“She got fired,” Killian said, pointing out the obvious. “You said she hasn’t found anything yet.”

“So maybe she doesn’t find anything at all. Maybe she goes freelance. Or maybe this is the type of interview that gets her noticed by bigger and better places.” Trey shrugged. “What she does with it is up to her. The point is, we trust her not to abuse the situation.”

Killian’s hands clenched around the straps of his bag. “She might not accept it, coming from me.”

“She’s a journalist being presented a story on a silver platter. She’s going to take it.”

“Glad you’re confident. You’ve already got your woman.”

Trey snorted. “She’s got me just as much—if not more—than I’ve got her. That’s the beauty of being in love, my friend.” Standing, he slapped a hand on Killian’s shoulder and squeezed once in solidarity. “You always know there’s at least one other person in the world who’s just as happy—or as miserable—as you are at any given time.”

“Sounds like hell.”

“Heaven,” Trey corrected, and walked back to his area of the locker room.

Heaven. He could use a little of that. With a freckled pixie by his side.

*

Trudging up her apartment stairs, Aileen debated letting her tote drag behind her. Only the reminder that her laptop and cell phone were inside, sure to break if she succumbed to temptation, stopped her. Everything was heavy. Her head, her shoulders, her spirit . . . it all wanted to droop.

Rounding the corner, she hefted the bag higher over her shoulder and looked up. And froze. And cursed under her breath.

Killian stood beside her apartment door, waiting. His back leaned against the cement wall, with one foot propped up. His head was down as he scrolled through his phone. He wore a red windbreaker, jeans, and running shoes, and his hair tossed around with the breeze. He needed a haircut again.

He was so damn beautiful. And it made her angry, so angry, that he was that beautiful. He had no right to look so good when she still wasn’t done working out what she felt about him, for him . . . for them.

This time, she had the element of surprise. She crept up as best she could, pausing when it looked like he might glance up. Then, at the last minute, she pounced. She grabbed his arm and yelled, “Boo!”

His head turned, the only part of his body to move, and looked down at her, one brow raised. “Hey, Freckles.”

She threw his arm aside, though it didn’t actually go anywhere. “Seriously, that’s just not fair. You knock me on my ass and I can’t even make you jolt.”

“You have a heightened startle reflex,” he quoted at her, lips quirking a little. God, she missed his smile. It faded as he surveyed her outfit. “What the hell are you wearing?”

She looked down, taking in the simple black dress pants and matching blazer, with a prim button-down shirt beneath it. On her feet were simple black flats with a silver buckle accent. “Clothes. I hear it’s considered good form to wear some when you go out in public. What are you doing here?”

He ignored her question. “Why aren’t you dressed normally?”

“This is normal. There are probably five dozen women within a two-mile radius wearing a nearly identical outfit.”

“Exactly,” he growled. “Where are your clothes? The sneakers and the jeans and hoodies.”

She groaned in exasperation. “I had a job interview and didn’t want them to mistake me for a college student. Who cares? Killian, why are you here?”

“You got fired.” His eyes were so angry, it made her take a step back. “That jackass boss of yours fired you.”

“Um, he half-fired me, I half-quit.” She dug through her bag for her keys. “I’m not entirely sure what ended up being the official diagnosis there. Suffice to say, I don’t work at Off Season.”

“Because of me.”

“No, Killian.” She looked up, ready to rip him a new one for putting her through this. This torment of being near him without actually having any rights to him. Even professional ones. “Because of me. Because I couldn’t do the story anymore. I couldn’t . . .” She started to breathe heavily and forced herself to calm down. “I couldn’t be objective anymore. I couldn’t do it.”

“Because of me,” he said again, but his voice was softer this time.

“Because of us,” she answered just as softly. “Because I felt too much for you and I lost perspective. And I knew when I dropped the story, I’d get fired. Or I’d have to quit.” She still wasn’t sure what officially happened there. “But it was worth it. I wasn’t going to do some story on you alone, and there was no way in hell I’d do one about you and—” She glanced around, saw nobody nearby, then leaned in and whispered, “You and Charlie.”

He met her halfway and kissed her. Her mind screamed to back up, that this was what got her into trouble in the first place. But her heart, the one that had led the way from the beginning, weakened in a moment’s time. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she lifted up on her toes to add pressure.

Killian’s arms banded around her waist and drew her into his body. Oh, she’d missed this feeling. His hardness pressed against her soft curves, with pressure in all the right places. Then it all came back, and she pushed at his shoulders. Reluctantly, he let her go.