then whose business was it?
Who was there for Kimber?
“You’re so tense,” Gabe murmured, lips just brushing the skin of her shoulder. Jemma instantly knew what he was doing, and what he’d likely attempt to calm her down. But there wasn’t time this morning, and the thought of Kimber’s perplexing problem and the lack of solutions hadn’t exactly put Jemma in the mood. So she quietly pulled away and slid out of bed, wrapping the hotel robe around her naked body as she headed toward the shower.
The basketball game was fun, a rollicking affair as the US men’s team soundly thrashed the Brazilian team. Gabe was sporting a rather annoyed pout as they made their way out of the venue and toward the transportation that would take them to the archery final held at the Sambódromo, which normally hosted Rio’s famous Carnival parades. She’d been fascinated to learn that the annual event was so important that the Brazilian government had literally built an entire stadium for it. She had every intention of coming back someday to watch it; Gabe had told her it was a spectacle not to be missed. What she hadn’t told him was that she already intended to bring him back with her.
“Where to next?” Gabe asked as they slid into seats in the tram. Unsurprisingly, not many people were flocking to the archery events, and the tram was only half-full.
“Archery,” Jemma said and Gabriel let out a loud groan.
“Not that again,” he said. “Jemma, that was worse than watching paint dry, and I already know from today’s schedule that you won’t be able to give me the same kind of reward you did last time.”
“I think it could be interesting, a really fascinating event to write about,” Jemma insisted, ignoring the shot of heat up her spine as well as his reminder about what she’d whispered into his ear last time they’d gone to the archery event and had later fulfilled, enthusiastically, in her bed. He was right. There wasn’t time for that today. Maybe she should appeal to his better nature rather than his baser one.
“It wasn’t interesting the first time.”
Jemma pulled out her notes. “What about Michael Chandler? He’s one of the US’ greatest hopes for a medal in archery in the last twenty years. That’s something worth writing about.”
“Michael Chandler?” Gabe asked in disbelief. “The same Michael Chandler that is currently sitting ten spots down on the leaderboard?”
She really hated his ability to remember even the minutest detail about an event.
“He could still win!” she exclaimed.
“I guess if we manage to witness a miracle today, you’ll have a great story about how Michael Chandler overcame all odds—and I mean all odds, including everyone standing between 9 th and 3 rd —to secure a medal for the US.”
Jemma crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. “It could happen,” she insisted again.
“What are you going to write if Michael Chandler doesn’t manage a miracle today?” he asked.
“I could write about how we need to put more resources into archery,” she challenged.
He rolled his eyes. “Be serious.”
“I am serious!” she said. “We aren’t practicing what we’re preaching! All the little boys love Hawkeye and the girls all want to be the Mockingjay but nobody actually wants to take archery lessons. That’s why we’re not winning medals!”
“Calm down, Katniss,” he quipped, “I get it. I do. But the reason why nobody wants to take up archery isn’t because they aren’t properly inspired, it’s because it’s boring .”
She sniffed, pointedly turning her attention to the sights of Rio flashing by her window.
“Why don’t you do a feature on swimming?” he asked. “You seem to really be stuck on the coverage. Always wanting to watch the medal ceremonies on the TV and all the interviews with the swimmers.”
Of course he’d noticed. Jemma didn’t know why she was even surprised. She thought she’d been so clever, deliberately
Who was there for Kimber?
“You’re so tense,” Gabe murmured, lips just brushing the skin of her shoulder. Jemma instantly knew what he was doing, and what he’d likely attempt to calm her down. But there wasn’t time this morning, and the thought of Kimber’s perplexing problem and the lack of solutions hadn’t exactly put Jemma in the mood. So she quietly pulled away and slid out of bed, wrapping the hotel robe around her naked body as she headed toward the shower.
The basketball game was fun, a rollicking affair as the US men’s team soundly thrashed the Brazilian team. Gabe was sporting a rather annoyed pout as they made their way out of the venue and toward the transportation that would take them to the archery final held at the Sambódromo, which normally hosted Rio’s famous Carnival parades. She’d been fascinated to learn that the annual event was so important that the Brazilian government had literally built an entire stadium for it. She had every intention of coming back someday to watch it; Gabe had told her it was a spectacle not to be missed. What she hadn’t told him was that she already intended to bring him back with her.
“Where to next?” Gabe asked as they slid into seats in the tram. Unsurprisingly, not many people were flocking to the archery events, and the tram was only half-full.
“Archery,” Jemma said and Gabriel let out a loud groan.
“Not that again,” he said. “Jemma, that was worse than watching paint dry, and I already know from today’s schedule that you won’t be able to give me the same kind of reward you did last time.”
“I think it could be interesting, a really fascinating event to write about,” Jemma insisted, ignoring the shot of heat up her spine as well as his reminder about what she’d whispered into his ear last time they’d gone to the archery event and had later fulfilled, enthusiastically, in her bed. He was right. There wasn’t time for that today. Maybe she should appeal to his better nature rather than his baser one.
“It wasn’t interesting the first time.”
Jemma pulled out her notes. “What about Michael Chandler? He’s one of the US’ greatest hopes for a medal in archery in the last twenty years. That’s something worth writing about.”
“Michael Chandler?” Gabe asked in disbelief. “The same Michael Chandler that is currently sitting ten spots down on the leaderboard?”
She really hated his ability to remember even the minutest detail about an event.
“He could still win!” she exclaimed.
“I guess if we manage to witness a miracle today, you’ll have a great story about how Michael Chandler overcame all odds—and I mean all odds, including everyone standing between 9 th and 3 rd —to secure a medal for the US.”
Jemma crossed her arms stubbornly across her chest. “It could happen,” she insisted again.
“What are you going to write if Michael Chandler doesn’t manage a miracle today?” he asked.
“I could write about how we need to put more resources into archery,” she challenged.
He rolled his eyes. “Be serious.”
“I am serious!” she said. “We aren’t practicing what we’re preaching! All the little boys love Hawkeye and the girls all want to be the Mockingjay but nobody actually wants to take archery lessons. That’s why we’re not winning medals!”
“Calm down, Katniss,” he quipped, “I get it. I do. But the reason why nobody wants to take up archery isn’t because they aren’t properly inspired, it’s because it’s boring .”
She sniffed, pointedly turning her attention to the sights of Rio flashing by her window.
“Why don’t you do a feature on swimming?” he asked. “You seem to really be stuck on the coverage. Always wanting to watch the medal ceremonies on the TV and all the interviews with the swimmers.”
Of course he’d noticed. Jemma didn’t know why she was even surprised. She thought she’d been so clever, deliberately
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