The Trade (Coastal Rivals Book 1)

I have to say, I’m one lucky girl to have West in my life.

When he initially let slip about the scrimmage, it didn’t even cross my mind to consider writing an article for the Daily. Or, more accurately, to wheedle my editor into giving me the assignment. But now, by some quirk of fate, I have the clear advantage.

I’m sure I’ll be the first to break the news to Garrett. And while I’m still not a huge fan of leveraging personal connections, in this instance, it’s less about nepotism and more about a lucky break. It’s not like I’m going to prance around, flaunting my relationship.

In fact, I’d rather Garrett, and by extension, the rest of the Daily’s staff, remain oblivious to my personal life.

Usually, our article assignments are divvied up on Tuesdays, making Mondays in the newsroom as lively as a graveyard. Naturally, Garrett is almost always lurking around doing who knows what. Sometimes, when I traipse in after regular hours, I find him hunched over his desk, just sitting there in the dark like some . . . creepy little bat in a cave.

I wouldn’t put it past him to be roosting in the rafters.

Bracing myself, I inhale deeply, squaring my shoulders as I sidle up to his fortress of a desk. “Hey, Garrett,” I say, injecting as much warmth into my voice as I can muster.

“Jade.” His acknowledgment is as stiff as his posture, his eyes barely flicking up from his scattered workspace.

“I was hoping to talk to you about a concept for the next issue.” My voice wavers, prompting me to clear my throat, an awkward sound echoing in the near-silent room.

Honestly, there’s zero reason to feel intimidated by Garrett fucking Warner. He’s nothing more than a chauvinistic busybody with the attention span of a goldfish. Still, in his clutches, he holds the fate of my journalism career.

“I’m listening,” he murmurs, his fingers idly shuffling through the heap of papers in front of him, eyes still glued to his desk.

“Okay, well, I’m not sure if it’s hit your radar yet . . . but the football team is preparing for a spring scrimmage against Coastal. It’ll be their first against an opponent, and the game is next weekend.”

That certainly grabs his attention. His head snaps up, eyes narrowed in curiosity.

“How did you get wind of this?”

“Let’s just say I have an inside source.”

“Who?”

I give him an odd look. “Does it matter?”

He just stares at me, his gaze unblinking, waiting for me to give him the details. So, I invent an excuse, a half-truth, that’s a little easier for both of us to swallow. “My, um, roommate is a cheerleader.”

“Ah, I see. Well, thank you for the scoop. I’ll notify the sports team,” he says, jotting down a quick note on his cluttered calendar. “I don’t think I’ve given Liam a new piece yet.”

My spine stiffens. “Actually, I was hoping to write the article myself.”

His response is a burst of laughter, only cut short when he catches sight of my stone-faced expression. “Jade, you’re not a sports reporter.”

“Yeah, but you know that I’d like to be,” I counter, my voice tightening as my fingers dig into my thigh. “I’ve drafted pieces on the games before; you just never considered them worthy of printing.”

“Those were backups, Jade. I didn’t even have time to go through them. You’re aware of the number of reporters we have on staff.”

My fingers curl tightly against my palm, nostrils flaring as I tamp down my disappointment. “Right. Silly me.”

“Look . . . this is an important piece. I don’t have the time or patience to make it your training ground.”

I cross my arms defensively. “You wouldn’t even know about the scrimmage if it weren’t for me.”

“Seriously? I would’ve found out in a day or two. Besides, I’ve already assigned you another article.”

“So, give that one to Liam,” I say, flustered. “I’ll take the scrimmage, and he can take whatever the hell you wanted me to write.”

His jaw twitches. “This is ridiculous. Now you’re just being emotional.”

“Emotional?” My shoulders sag, the fight draining out of me. “You know what, that’s just fine. Liam can write about the football team again. I’ll just write about the parking lot outside of Haggerty Hall or maybe the new turnstiles in the arts building.”

He levels me with an impatient stare, glancing pointedly at the stack of papers on his desk. “Great idea, Jade. I knew you’d understand.”

I whirl around, my heels clicking against the floor as I stalk away from his desk and out of the newsroom. By the time I finally reach class, I can feel the sting of frustrated tears pricking at my eyes.

Why did I even bother to try?

Steeling myself, I blink away the welling tears. I know I’m fighting an uphill battle here, but God, I’ll be damned if I let this be the end of it.

My week has officially devolved into a trash pile. Between the constant demands of class, relentless studying sessions in the library, and the mundane task of writing the most uninspired article of my journalistic career, I’m fucking exhausted.

And Garrett, as usual, is partially to blame for this mess. He must have a deep-rooted hatred for me or just for female reporters in general. It certainly feels like this is his idea of a cruel joke, him assigning me a story about the new turnstiles.

Really? Fucking turnstiles?

At this point, I’m ready to tear my hair out. The library’s brimming with anxious students all cramming for midterm exams. It’s so chaotic, so nerve-racking, I could probably start screaming and nobody would bat an eye.

“Jade.” The timbre of West’s unexpected voice hits me like a warm caress. “I can’t believe I actually caught you in time.”

He slides into the chair behind me, his strong hands enclosing my tense shoulders. I practically melt into my seat as he starts to knead the stiffness out, his touch familiar and comforting.

“I was just about to leave,” I murmur, craning my neck to look up at him.

“No.” He frowns, bending to plant a quick kiss on my lips. “I’ve got two hours until practice.”

“I know, but I promised Shan I’d be home by three.”

“I’ve barely seen you all week. Can’t you stay just one more hour?”

“Don’t you have to study for your Lit exam?” I ask, my smile tender. “I’ll only distract you.”

“Maybe you could help me study? I mean, I understand if you’re too busy with your own stuff. You don’t need to if—”

“Theo,” I cut in, grinning at his flustered ramblings. “I can stay and help. But just for an hour, okay?”

As the hour trickles away, it feels like we’ve barely made a dent in the material. West’s dedication to his studies is clear, but he has a tougher time grasping certain concepts, especially when it comes to writing assignments.

“Damn,” he groans, slamming his book shut with finality. “I’ll never be able to learn all this shit.”

“Hey, you can do this.” I place a comforting hand on his knee. “I can help you study more this weekend.”

He swivels in his seat to face me, toying with a loose curl of my hair. “I don’t want to study this weekend,” he grumbles. “I want to take you out.”

“We can go out after your exam. Plus, once the scrimmage is over, you’ll have a lot more free time.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Besides, the banquet is the following weekend,” I say cheerfully. “That’s kind of like a date. We get to dress up and eat a fancy dinner together.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his brow furrowed as he searches my face.

“What?” I laugh, puzzled by his intensity.

He gives his head a slight shake. “You’re just so fucking beautiful.”

“Theo.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, his hand reaching up to tuck the stray curl behind my ear. “I can’t believe I wasn’t falling at your feet the first time we met.”

I snort in response. “You mean, when you rolled your eyes at me and called me a jersey chaser?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, a tense line forming along his jaw. “Exactly. I was such a goddamn fool back then.”

“That was only, what, six weeks ago?”

“Yeah, and a lot can change in six weeks.” He rises from his seat, pulling my chair away from the table. “I need your help with one more thing before you leave.”

Before I can ask, he’s pulling me to my feet and leading me to the furthest corner of the library, where we sneak in behind towering stacks of books.

“Theo, what are you—”

He interrupts me by seizing my face in his hands and capturing my lips with his own. His kisses are hot and insistent, heavy with unspoken yearning. In seconds, he maneuvers me against the bookshelves, his body pressing me into the cold metal.

“It’s so hard to resist you,” he confesses in a husky whisper, his mouth trailing down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

He teases me with his teeth before latching on to suck at my pulse point. His hands roam over my body in a dance of desire—from my waist to my hips to my ass. He’s kneading me, setting me on fire with each caress.

“Damn, I want you,” he breathes against my skin.

My breath hitches in my throat, and his tongue invades my mouth, tasting and teasing me. He wedges a thick thigh between my legs, and I can’t stop the instinctive roll of my hips against him.

The pressure is intoxicating.

I feel the telltale pulse of my arousal against him, matching the hardness straining in his jeans. And now, I’m gasping for air, desperate little sounds threatening to spill from my lips. My core aches, empty and needy, a heady warmth pooling inside me.

Fuck. I might just come from this alone.

“Did you find it?” a male voice rings out, emanating from a few shelves over.

My eyes snap wide open. I push against West’s chest, trying to put some distance between us.

“I think it’s another aisle over,” a female voice responds.

I glance up at West, working to regain control over my erratic breathing. He’s grinning down at me, running a hand through his hair to tame it.

“That was hot,” he murmurs, his grin widening.

I can’t help but grin back, my heartbeat still racing with the thrill of nearly being caught.

“Shut up,” I whisper back, lightly swatting his chest.

“Make me,” he says, that smug smile still firmly in place.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a dork,” he teases back. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught by some unsuspecting librarian.”

“After you,” I say, gesturing toward the end of the aisle.

His grin softens into a warm smile as he laces his fingers with mine. “We’ll go together,” he decides.