The Best Mistake - Cookie O'Gorman Page 0,50
I spent some time together I’d get used to him. I’d become immune to his touches, the feel of his lips, all of these…feelings. A girl could only hope.
It was Friday, and I was on my way to the baseball field, a bag thrown over my shoulder with clothes, a couple books, toothbrush, the necessities. The article I’d written on Daisy O’Brien had been an even bigger hit than the first.
“They love her!” Walter had said to me earlier this morning in the newsroom. “I ran the article on the coach right after their big win. The Wolves fans devoured every word. You really got to the heart of Daisy O’Brien’s story, Honor. Well done!”
I’d shrugged. “She’s a hard person not to like. Plus, she was really easy to talk to.”
“Mothers are like that.”
Not all of them, I thought.
“So, when can we expect the next one?” Walter’s eyes were twinkling, his excitement clear. “The Howler has become a must-read. I can’t wait to see what you bring me about the brothers.”
“Well…” I was stalling, but in truth, I’d already made my decision. “Coach O’Brien said I could travel with the team. If I wanted to.”
“A generous offer. And?” Walter prompted.
“Um, they have a couple of games this weekend. They’re away games, so I thought I’d go and try to get some of the interviews done then.”
“Brilliant!”
“I was actually hoping to get them done sooner rather than later. That way we can have all the articles ready to go.”
Walter had nodded. “You’ve always been very diligent. Oh, I can’t wait to see what you write next.”
I didn’t tell him that diligence had nothing to do with it. I wanted to get the interviews done quickly for the sake of my sanity. Another reason I might’ve been so hung up on Archer was this assignment. The articles loomed large in my mind. To keep the pace, we’d have to release one story a week or at least bi-weekly, so I needed to get on the ball.
My plan was to start interviewing the O’Briens while on the bus. I didn’t get any sleep last night, spent a long time thinking and coming up with my plan of attack aka my interviewing strategy. But now I was prepared. It would be a long drive. I could at least get one or two done, I thought with a yawn. Then maybe I could take a much-needed nap.
It was early, so the sun was still low in the sky as I approached the Wolves’ bus. There was the face of a wolf painted on one side with the words “Southern Baseball” etched underneath it. The bus itself was large, looming over a couple of smaller yellow buses parked beside it in a row. I could see some of the players just arriving. They dropped off their bags to be loaded underneath the vehicle and then boarded.
My phone went off in my pocket, and I took a detour, walked between the yellow buses and answered.
It was a text from Charlie.
She said: Honor, remember to HAVE FUN! I want to hear everything as soon as you get home ;)
I shook my head, typing back immediately.
Me: What’s with the winky-face? It’s just an assignment.
Charlie: Yeah okay…it’s not like you’ll be spending time w/Archer or anything…
Me: Only if I’m asking him interview questions…
Charlie: Aw, you’re no fun :(
A beat passed, then another text came through.
Charlie: If any hanky-panky goes on on that bus, I demand to know!!! You must tell me!
I laughed.
Me: I promise—but nothing’s going to happen.
Charlie: I’d love to hear what Archer has to say about that.
And she followed it up with another winky-face.
Shaking my head, I opened my bag and dropped my phone in. I was just about to walk back out when a familiar voice said, “Need any help?”
I jumped about a foot then looked to Archer, who was walking toward me between the buses.
“No, I’m good,” I said breathlessly. “Where did you come from?”
He shrugged. “I saw you walk back here when I drove up.”
As he stopped about a foot away, I couldn’t help taking him in. There was a lot of shadow between the buses, but the light that did get in framed him perfectly. His hair was effortlessly styled, his eyes bright as they stared right back at me. For some reason his broad shoulders looked even more pronounced, his legs somehow more fit, and my eyes widened as I realized why.
“Are you…wearing a suit?”
Archer tipped his chin. “Mom likes us to dress