Page 9

9

PENNY

It’s half past eight in the morning, I’ve been dressed and ready since six thirty, and I’ve already consumed a stupid amount of coffee. My leg is bouncing ridiculously, and not just from the caffeine. It’s a nervous trait I picked up from Jaxson—another stupid thing I can blame the Bradys for.

I stand and swivel on my heels, facing the windows that look out over the city. Taking several deep breaths, I try not to let the reason I’m here into my mind and focus on the view. But all I can think about is the past eighteen hours. Jenson called me after I read his messages to tell me he’d already submitted my resumé to Mr. Elias. I’m absolutely furious with him. So much so, I almost didn’t turn up. But I’m very aware of the dwindling numbers in my bank account and the way the cost of living keeps rising so quickly.

The reality of it sends me dropping into the nearest chair. Even though I told everyone I had it covered, I don’t. My savings won’t last more than a few months, and then I’ll be in real trouble. And I refuse to go to any of the boys or my dad with my hand out. I won’t depend on anyone but me, and you bet your ass I’ll be the one my dad can depend on. It’s one of the only reasons I agreed to this farce of an interview. If my dad needs something, I’ll be able to help him. I don’t want him worrying about anything while he’s having his surgery.

And even though I really don’t want this job, the pay would make me feel less like a bum compared to everyone else around me who all make considerably more than what I did when I was teaching.

I knew about the long hours and lack of pay when I began my career in education. It was stable, honorable, and worthwhile. Or so I thought.

I’ve already been replaced and none of the parents have batted an eye.

The coffee churns in my stomach at the thought of working for Mr. Elias everyday. I know I could do this job and do it well. My dad’s lived and breathed his job for most of my life. He’s shared so much about it with me it’s like I’ve been by his side doing it right along with him. I’m not worried about being able to handle the position. The big question is whether I can put up with him as my boss?

Once Jenson was done texting me with his new found emotional depth, and my dad had checked in to make sure I really was okay, it wasAngie’s turn to have a go at me.

She kept finding the perfect teaching placements for me, but I couldn’t tell her the real reason I couldn’t apply. That if I did, Director Allen would tell everyone what I’d ‘done’ and have me blacklisted.

Once I convinced her nothing bad had happened that put me off teaching, that I’d simply had enough of it, we decided this was my best option. That I needed to put my pride to one side and attack this interview the way I would any other. Show him that I’d be vital in his corporation. Don’t give him the option of turning me away. And if he starts in with his typical pretentious attitude, remember why I’m doing this. And that it won’t be forever. Time to suck it up, Buttercup.

But to be honest, I don’t know how I’ll be able to do that. My usual method of dealing with the conflicting feelings he causes in me is to ignore him. But that won’t work here. Maybe I need to adopt a new strategy. Maybe treating him the same way I do the Brady brothers would make it more bearable.

But when I spot them in a white shirt stretched over their biceps, I don’t start to drool and picture myself running my hands and tongue all over said muscles. Nope. Treating him like one of the brothers won’t do. I see him in a whole different way. And I hate that.

While I’ve been having dirty thoughts and lust filled dreams about this dude, he’s ignored me and irritated me all these years. What is my problem? Is this some sort of kink I had and didn’t even know about? The ‘I want him because he doesn’t want me’ type of stuff you find in books?

I shake my head and mentally scold myself for letting my thoughts get away from me. And what’s with all the flirting recently? He spent years looking through me as if I were made of glass and all of a sudden he’s making innuendos and looking at me like he wants to run his tongue over every inch of my body.

Okay, maybe that’s just wishful thinking on my part.

A smirk settles on my face as the door swings open and I rise to stand a little too quickly for my head's liking. I start to spin and reach out to grab the closest thing to steady myself. Instead of the soft material of the chair or the cool wood of the desk under my fingers, I find a crisp white shirt and those bulging biceps I was thinking about licking earlier. Shit. He moves quicker than a cheetah chasing a gazelle.

“Are you okay?”

His voice is low and gravelly, and I suck in a breath, which is the worst thing I could’ve done. Because now not only am I touching him, but I have his voice on replay and his scent engulfing me. God he smells good. Clean, crisp and minty.

I lift my head slightly, lock onto his worried gaze and. His eyes scan my own and I feel my face blush. I bite my bottom lip in embarrassment, and as he tracks the movement, his eyes turn from worried to something else.

The shock is enough to break whatever spell I’m under and I clear my throat and step backward.

“Um, yeah, I’m fine. Just a little dizzy from standing too quickly.” I take another step back but my escape is thwarted when the backs of my legs brush against the chair I was sitting in.

“Okay… If you’re ready?”

His demeanour is back to normal and the relief I feel is immeasurable. I can deal with the arrogant Mr. Elias. The one who had a hold on me? Maybe not so much.

As he motions with his hand for me to enter his office, I take the seconds to focus my breathing and listen to the pounding of my heart and the voice in my head. Calm the fuck down, Penny. This is just a job interview. We don’t care what this douche thinks of us. And we certainly aren’t gonna focus on how hard his biceps were or how we felt tingles ALL over when he showed us the least bit of care. Nope. We aren’t mentioning that at all. Let’s just focus on getting this part of the process over with.

I clear my throat and straighten my spine, brushing imaginary lint from my black pencil skirt and white blouse, and standing taller in my heels, as I wait for his direction. He smirks and motions with his hand for me to take a seat.

He strides around the desk and sits down opposite me, the glint in his eyes making me squirm a little. “So what interested you in working for The Spartans, Miss Richards?” I can’t keep the eyeroll in check. It prompts a grin from him and I raise my brow in question. “Fine. We both know you’re here because of Jenson and your dad. They told me you needed a change from teaching. Care to elaborate?” His grin transforms into a smile and I’m dazzled by those white teeth again.

“I’ve worked there a long time and I just felt like this was the time to move on.”

His smile gets bigger and I avoid his gaze. Seeing him look happy like that rather than the usual grumpy asshole I’m used to is doing things to me I don’t like.

“Perfect timing, wouldn’t you say? You suddenly hate teaching and I need an assistant. Kismet at its finest.”

I suck a deep breath in through my nose to hold back the anger that surges through me. “I don’t hate teaching.” I love it and would gladly do it for the rest of my damn life, but I can’t tell him that. And before he can question me more about it, I continue. “And I didn’t think someone like you would believe in fate.” That wipes the smile from his face.

“Someone like me?” He tilts his head to the side in thought and continues to stare at me.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that. I just meant someone who’s so… professional and…”

“And arrogant and egotistical.” His stare penetrates me and I know my cheeks are heating up.

“I suppose I should apologise for what I said the other day too.”

This causes a shift in his demeanour. The arrogant smirk comes out in full force as he watches me. “Ah, so you’ve decided I’m not arrogant, egotistical, and care only about myself?”

He leans back in his chair smugly and waits for my response. The smile I found endearing before is long gone and now one side of his mouth twists up as his eyes zero in on mine, waiting to watch me squirm, baited and hooked for him. Well this worm ain’t squirmin’, no matter how much he wants me to. No amount of money is going to make this worthwhile.

“You know what, Ben? I’m not sorry. You are arrogant and egotistical. You do only care about yourself, and the only thing I’m sorry about is wasting my own time by allowing Jenson and my dad to guilt me into being here.” I stand up quickly but confidently this time and turn on my heels.

Just before I get to the door, his voice stops me in my tracks. “Penelope. Wait!”

My hand freezes in mid air, fingers hovering over the handle. I should just stomp out of here but I’m curious about what he’s going to say next.

“That’s the first time you’ve called me Ben.”

“So?” I question back without looking at him, knowing if I do his charming smile will break my anger down.

His voice is softer again. Remorse evident in every syllable. “I shouldn’t have goaded you when you were apologising. Please, let’s continue the interview.”

Inhaling deeply, I let my hand drop away from the handle. What is happening here? If I’d known using his first name would’ve made him more human, I would’ve done it a long time ago. Actually, I wouldn’t have. I prefer Mr. Thinks-He’s-So-Important—it suits his over inflated ego better.

“When your dad told me about his idea of us working together, I was a little unsure. I went along with it because I was curious. Why would the great and powerful Penelope Richards want to work for someone she despises? I didn’t expect a genuine apology. But if you’re actually here because you’re interested in the role, then I would be very happy to conduct a proper interview with you.”

Holy shit. Did that just actually happen? After years of him ignoring me, goading me and more recently flirting with me, he’s being nice and dropping his guard with me. Hell must’ve frozen over. Now the question I have to ask myself, and quickly, is do I want this job? I mean, I definitely want the right to refuse it if I want to, which means I have to interview for it first, right?

Mind made up, I decide to pull my big girl panties up and turn to face him, not expecting the frown marring his face. He usually frowns all the time, how he doesn’t have a face like a shar pei is beyond me, but this one’s different. It isn’t his usual one borne out of arrogance. This one’s a nervous one. And I must say, I quite like this look on him.

“Thank you for the apology. Shall we start over?”

He replies by inclining his head and I take my seat again. “I prepared a resumé for you. I’m pretty sure the one Jenson provided included things like ‘professional belcher.’” The corner of his lips twitch and I roll my eyes again.

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the Brady-fied one with you, but I will say I didn’t know you had so many hobbies. Or that being a toe model on a popular foot fetish site wouldn’t keep you busier and rolling in more cash than you are.”

My eye twitches, my jaw drops open, and I know I’m blushing from head to toe right now. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“Ah, that’s one,” he replies and makes a note on a pad in front of him.

“What are you doing?”

“Erm, Jenson asked me to mark down every time you swore.” He looks a little uncomfortable, probably because I’m grinding my teeth together so loudly he can hear them.

“How badly do you need your star quarterback? And if I get this job, what are the alibi benefits offered?” My voice is saccharine sweet and my smile just a touch maniacal.

A small chuckle escapes his lips and I hold in a breath at how beautiful it sounds. I'm a confused mess of horniness and rage, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Unfortunately he’s quite essential. We already went half a season without him and I don’t want to repeat that. Especially with the playoffs round the corner. But if you can get me a replacement who’s beloved by the fans and as good as him on the field, I’d be willing to discuss alibi benefits with you. If you qualify for the job, that is.” He leans back again, twiddling a pen in his long fingers, and I force my gaze away before I start picturing those fingers in other places.

“I’m sure I’m more than qualified to do this job. It’s not exactly rocket science is it?” I cross my leg over the other and note the way his eyes linger on my exposed thigh. His already dark eyes darken further and a slight fumble with the pen makes me smirk.

“Now, now, Miss Richards. You don’t want to come across as arrogant, do you?” A grin toys with his lips, and instead of replying, I lean over his desk, knowing full well the shirt I’m wearing will gape slightly and expose a little cleavage, and hand him my actual resumé.

The grin falls from his lips and he averts his eyes quickly as I sit back in my chair, recross my legs, and sigh contentedly. It’s a powerful feeling, knowing I can affect him, especially knowing nothing will ever happen between us. Ever.

Because that's my story, and I’m sticking with it.