The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,10

of laughter came through the phone.

“This has been fun,” I said, “but I have to go now. Walter’s probably got a great assignment just waiting for me.”

“He…you…sock,” was all she managed.

“See you at home.”

Hanging up, I shook my head.

My attempt at a one-night stand had definitely been a bust. But, I thought, pushing through the door to the newsroom, at least I’d have those memories to look back on. Not all of them were bad. In fact, a lot of them were out-of-this-world spectacular. I’d had my one walk on the wild side. Now I could return back to my normal, boring life, writing for the campus newspaper, hanging at the library and watching Netflix in my pjs.

And I’d never have to face O’Brien again.

Which was a good thing, I told myself, even as a pair of gorgeous gray eyes flashed in my mind.

“Honor,” Walter said as he spotted me, “there you are, girl! Ooh, I’ve got a winner for you this time, a story that’s sure to rescue this paper from the depths of oblivion.”

I smiled. He said this every other week. “Sounds awesome, Walter.”

“It sure is,” he said, his white whiskers all aquiver. “It’s a sports piece mixed with a human interest bent sure to please the masses. I really think it can save us. So, what do you say? Are you in?”

“Of course,” I said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Wonderful,” Walter said. “I’ve set up an interview for you at the end of the day. I’ll send you all the details then.”

“Can’t wait,” I said. I was excited to get started. This was just what I needed to get my mind off of a certain pair of gray eyes. A new project sounded like the perfect distraction.

This has to be a joke, I thought as I walked to the field.

When Walter had mentioned something about sports, it hadn’t raised any red flags. I mean, how many sports teams were there on campus? There was soccer, football, basketball, volleyball, softball…basically everything under the sun with a ball was played here. Not that I followed any of them. But how was I supposed to know that Walter had arranged a meeting with the baseball team?

Our school’s title-winning baseball team as it turns out.

He’d sent me the basic info for the article in a text about ten minutes ago. That was around the time I started scanning the details which included players’ names and stats…at which point I started freaking out.

Of all the sports in all the world, why did it have to be this one?

Honestly, I got why it would make a great story. This was the first time in the school’s history that they’d had four brothers playing on the same team, and said team was in a good way to make it to the national championship (again) under the coaching of the mother of said boys. It doesn’t get much more news-worthy than that. But did it have to be these four brothers? And why did I have to be the one covering the story?

Again, I thought for about the millionth time since getting that text. This had to be a joke.

I almost tripped when I noticed the four O’Brien jerseys out there on the field.

Geez, Honor, get a grip.

That was all I needed. A busted ankle in addition to the utter embarrassment of last night. Luckily, I’d come incognito. The last time Baylor O’Brien had seen me I’d been dressed like a pin-up, my hair straightened, my face covered in makeup perfection (courtesy of Charlie). But today, I was back to my old self: baggy t-shirt, jeans, sneakers and my hair pulled back into a ponytail. With the addition of my ball cap and faux glasses, there was a good chance he wouldn’t even remember me.

I mean, O’Brien supposedly had a revolving door of female companions. What were the chances that he’d recall one girl, even if she had been his clumsiest conquest?

Standing on the sidelines, I stopped next to a big, burly man that looked important.

“Excuse me,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.

He turned with a scowl, looked me up and down, and said (growled really), “You need something?”

I swallowed. The tag on his shirt read, Assistant Coach Green, but I was thinking Grouch fit him better.

“Yes, I’m sorry for interrupting your practice. My boss said he contacted you guys. Spoke to Coach O’Brien? I’m Honor from the campus newspaper, and—”

“There’s a campus newspaper?” he said.

“Yes,” I said. “The Howler.”

He grunted. “Never heard of it.”

I