Page 11 of Something to Prove

Yeah, yeah, I’d told Toby I’d cooperate with the interview and maybe I would, but I couldn’t give in immediately or Walker would think he had the upper hand. Which he did, and?—

Deep breaths. Stay calm, and don’t let the redhead know he’s under your skin.

“What were you doing at The Tavern last night?” I barked as Walker settled in the seat across from me.

The blood drained from his face, his gaze flickering from the lid on his latte to me and back again. “I was listening to a terrible band’s original playlist from hell,” he choked out, adding, “you were there?”

“You know I was.”

Walker widened his eyes. “I do?”

I skewered him with a dark stare, and cast a cautious glance at our nearest neighbor in Coffee Cave—a student wearing big-ass headphones, thumbing through his cell while bopping his head to his tunes. No danger there. I’d specifically chosen a table for two in the farthest corner of the coffee shop, away from prying eyes and ears. I didn’t care if we were seen together, but I definitely didn’t want to be overheard.

“You do,” I grunted. “What were you doing in the alley? And don’t bullshit me.”

Walker nibbled his bottom lip. “I needed a break from the band, so I took a slight respite in the parking lot to?—”

“To spy on me.”

“No! I mean…yes.” His lips twisted in a pained expression. “Because I was hoping to catch you and persuade you to do that interview.”

“You set me up,” I snapped in a low menacing tone.

“No! I didn’t.”

“Right,” I huffed sarcastically.

“I swear. I didn’t know you were—I didn’t know.” Walker wrapped his trembling hands around his cup, his Adam’s apple slid in his throat and his mouth stretched in a tight line.

Huh.Either he was a gifted actor or…he was telling the truth.

If he was to be believed, the other night was a case of epically poor timing and bad luck…for me. Great for Walker.

Total fuckery.

It took serious mental strength not to let my thoughts go straight to doom and gloom.

This asshole held my future in the palm of his hand. He could unravel fifteen years of hard work and dedication with a Smithton exclusive: “Bears Pro Prospect Spotted With His Pants Down…With a Dude!”

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and?—”

“I’m thinking you have me by the short hairs,” I intercepted angrily. “And that I’ll have to do your fucking interview now and be wary of being blackmailed by you for the rest of my career…assuming I have one.”

Walker gasped indignantly. “I would never stoop to blackmail!”

“Right.”

“Listen, I know we’ve gotten off to a rough start, but I swear I wouldn’t say a word about…what I saw. Not that I saw much at all. I didn’t. I?—”

“Whatdidyou see? Be honest.”

“It was dark.”

“And?”

“Scary?”

I furrowed my brow. “Is this a joke to you?”