Hard Tackle: A Bad Boy Sports Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

I had to tell Leona I’d met him. Somehow, in expanding the lie, I ended up arriving back at the truth, or at least something closely resembling it.
    The meeting had been a disaster, but somehow it had worked. Sort of. No more pictures of Barton appeared that night, so it looked like I’d done my job. I knew that Barton had still fooled around with women, but he’d obviously been careful. I tried not to think about it too much.
    “So you met with him and explained who you were, but then you left him alone?” Leona asked, after I had finished recounting my only slightly false version of events.
    “Barton was adamant he didn’t want our help,” I said. “I did my best, but in the end he practically kicked me out of the apartment.”
    “Practically? I don’t care if he picked you up and threw you like a football. It was your job to stay on him that night. You can’t leave someone like that on their own.”
    The first time Leona had yelled at me in her office, I’d held back the tears just long enough to make it to the bathroom where I proceeded to bawl like a baby for half an hour. Now, I expected the screams, and just took it on the chin like everyone else.
    If I wanted to work in a place like this after college—and I was far from certain about that—I would have to get used to taking verbal abuse.
    “He fired us,” I replied. “Said he didn’t need a babysitter. I figured you wouldn’t want me to stay there and work if we weren’t getting paid for it.”
    Not that I’m getting paid for any of this bullshit.
    I’d read up on the California rules for interns, and basically if you did anything of benefit to the employer then you should be getting paid. If this job didn’t work out, I could at least sue for a summer’s worth of wages. That might pay off about one percent of my student loans. Maybe.
    Leona considered my response and calmed down. A bit. “Barton is one of the most important clients this firm has had in quite some time. He’s not paying us that much now, but if he wins a Super Bowl—which he likely will—he’s going to provide a nice little pension for some of the partners here.”
    “I appreciate that,” I replied. “I’m sure if we send a big team of our best people to meet with Barton, he’ll change his mind.”
    Hopefully my tone and body language conveyed the additional words ‘the big team absolutely, positively should not include me.’
    “He’s your client for the time being,” Leona insisted.
    “What? But I’m just an intern.”
    I’d gotten used to Leona shouting, but I couldn’t get used to the feeling of being in way over my head. How was I supposed to manage a client like Barton? In addition to being an intern with no experience, I also hated the very sight of Barton. He was everything I detested in a man. He was like one of Tasha’s hookups turned up to eleven.
    “That’s the point,” Leona replied. “Your inexperience is useful here.”
    I frowned, and tried to portray mild confusion, as opposed to blinding panic. Was she really suggesting I look after one of the firm’s most important clients? That made no sense. As Leona had reminded me on a number of occasions, I couldn’t even be trusted to make the coffee, let alone anything else.
    “What do you mean?” I asked.
    Leona opened her mouth to reply, but then seemed to reconsider. “Doesn’t matter. Perhaps you’re right. You might not be the best person for this. I’ll have Jessie work on it.”
    For a brief moment, I felt high with relief. Then a pang of jealousy kicked in. Jessie was another intern, and even worse than me at making coffee. She was also completely Barton’s type. Blonde hair, slim waist, impossibly big boobs, bubbly personality. I hated her as much as all the men loved her.
    Barton would definitely take instructions from Jessie, and no doubt they’d both end up screwing the summer away.
    Not that I cared. He could screw whoever he wanted. It just didn’t seem fair that Jessie