Page 20 of Something to Prove

“No.” I cleared my throat and continued in a softer tone. “I’ll need to review them first. Email me.”

“My computer is at home…and I might forget.”

I sighed. “You could recite them over the phone or?—”

“Nah, I’ll come by. It’ll give me a chance to inspect your studio.”Inspect my studio? The nerve!“What are you doing now?”

“Now? I’m a little busy. How about Thursday?” I asked.

“I have practice and I have to study for econ.”

“Friday?”

“I have a game and?—”

“Fine,” I interrupted sharply, eyeing the stack of notes I was supposed to review for my journalism theory seminar. “Come now.”

Ty chuckled…an honest-to-God snicker of mirth. He was enjoying this, the egotistical, puffed-up, self-serving, pompous hockey hooligan.

“Cool. Gimme your deets.”

I gave him my address, disconnected the call, and lowered my forehead to my desk in defeat.

Ugh.I hated hockey.

Fifteen minutes later, the doorframe shook under the onslaught of a forceful knock. Mabel, my white Himalayan, meowed her annoyance and darted up the stairs to safety. I glanced after her wistfully, patting my wayward hair and pasting a smile on my face as I checked the peephole.

If there was one upside to my current pickle…Ty was easy on the eyes. His snug-fitted black T-shirt drew attention to his pecs and the dragon tattoo on his biceps. And don’t get me started on those delicious faded jeans.

Down, boy. Ty might be unbearably handsome, but he was a tiresome jerk. I regretted the necessity of pursuing this interview. I would have loved to forget about it entirely or choose a different player. But he was Smithton’s rising star, and I needed this to go well.

I opened the door with a flourish. “Welcome.”

Ty stepped inside, unabashedly scanning the foyer and adjacent living area. “Nice place.”

“Thanks.” I held out my hand expectantly. “Do you have the questions?”

“On my cell.”

I frowned. “You could have sent them in a text.”

He rocked on his heels smugly. “I wanted a sneak preview of where the magic happens.”

I sensed he was up to something, but I had no idea what.

“My office and studio are upstairs.” Without further ado, I led the way to the second story and gestured for him to sit in one of the chairs opposite my desk.

He strolled to the kitchenette in the corner instead, and whistled in appreciation. “You have a fridge in your office?”

“I do.” I plucked two water bottles from the open shelves next to the mini refrigerator and handed one to Ty before taking a seat behind the desk. “I’m ready for the questions.”

He ignored me, twisting the cap on his water bottle as he studied the family photographs on my bookshelves. “Who’s this?”

“My Aunt Kay and my cousin Jack.”

He set the frame down and pointed at the one next to it. “Another cousin?”

“Yes. Do you?—”