Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(129)

Ross: I was afraid of that. They’re very passionate about The Jock Report, and your article goes against everything they believe in.

Ollie: I get it. Do you think I should leave?

Ross: What do you think?

Ollie: I could admit defeat. Or I could hang in here and hope he gives me a chance.

Ross: I’m guessing you’re going to wait.

Ollie: I don’t think leaving is an option.





Ollie: Two hours and counting and nothing. Not even a peep.

Ross: What have you been doing?

Ollie: Writing in my notepad about how much I miss Silas.

Ross: That has got to be the saddest two hours ever.

Ollie: I cried at one point and realized I needed to stop.

Ross: The receptionist is going to judge you.

Ollie: Trust me, I think she already has.





Ollie: Just saw JP leave for lunch with his wife. I almost cried just from the sight of them holding hands. I miss Silas.

Ross: Pull it together, woman.

Ollie: I know. It was a weak moment.





Ollie: I want to stand and stretch so bad. I’ve been sitting in this chair for six hours. I need mobility.

Ross: Don’t stretch. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.

Ollie: So don’t perform jumping jacks?

Ross: Jesus, no.

Ollie: This is torture.

Ross: Hang in there.





Ollie: Everyone is leaving the office. It’s past five. What do I do?

Ross: Has JP left?

Ollie: No. Seems like everyone else has filtered out.

Ross: Well, stay put until told otherwise.

Ollie: I feel so pathetic. It’s clear he knows who I am from the article, and the last thing he wants to do is talk to me.

“Miss Owens?” Terri says. I look up to see her standing next to her desk, her purse strapped on her shoulder.

“Yes?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. It’s time for me to go home, and I can’t let you be here by yourself.”

“Oh . . . yeah, I understand that,” I say, feeling heartbroken.

I stand from my trusty chair and pick up my purse.

“I’m sorry, Miss Owens.”

“No need to apologize,” I say. “I get it.”

Terri gestures her arm to the elevator, and I follow suit. Terri has been nice all day. She even offered to grab me something for lunch. Who does that? Offers a complete stranger lunch? I declined, not wanting to put her out, but even though this has been a shitty day of waiting in a chair, at least someone was nice to me, a person who probably doesn’t deserve it.

Terri presses the elevator button, and as the elevator dings, I hear, “Ollie, come back here, please.”

I look over my shoulder to catch JP standing in the hallway, hands on his hips.

Oh dear God.

A wave of nerves streams through my veins, and I think about turning around and bolting for a moment. But this is it, my one chance. So with my chin held high, I thank Terri, and then head back to his office. He props his office door open, and I follow him in.

A corner office, of course. It’s full of rich tones but isn’t pretentious like Roberts’s office. And instead of sitting behind his desk, which is intentionally intimidating, he sits in one of the armchairs in the sitting area of his office.

“Have a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair across from him.

I sit up straight, trying not to look defeated or exhausted from the day, battling my nerves up until this point.

“I’m interested to know why you waited all day to talk to me,” he starts. “Last I remember, you were dating Silas Taters, but from the article you wrote about him, I’m assuming that’s no longer a topic of conversation.”

Yup, I knew he read the article.

Clearing my throat, I say, “I would love to have a conversation with you where I speak openly and honestly about my situation.”

“Please, so would I,” he says, crossing his ankle over his knee and leaning back in his chair. “Tell me why you’re here.”

“For a job,” I say, which causes his eyes to slightly widen before he lightly chuckles.

“Okay, you’re here for a job. Tell me why you think you would be a good fit for Cane Enterprises.”

Here goes nothing.

“This past summer, I was an intern with Alan Roberts, as you know, headed into my last year of college. For my end-of-internship assignment, where I would get credit for all my work, I was assigned hockey as my general topic.”

“Ah, so the article was your end-of-the-year topic?”

I nod. “I also met Silas at the end of summer. I had no idea who he was, but we became friends quickly, and from there, the relationship grew. When Alan Roberts found out I was dating Silas, he asked me to look into the Agitators organization and to write a ‘gotcha piece’ exposing the dark secrets of the organization.”

“While you were dating Silas?” JP asks as he props his chin up on his hand.

“Yes, I told Roberts that was a conflict of interest, and I wasn’t comfortable doing it. He persisted. I chose not to go in that direction but rather provide a lifestyle piece on what it’s like to be a professional hockey player. It was the best I could do, given my background is in lifestyle and that I know nothing about hockey. I gave the article to Silas so he could read it over to make sure he was good with everything in it.”