AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Not even a pet?”
He gave a little smile. “You were hoping to see me save a cat?”
“Have you?” She smiled back. “Saved a cat?”
He winced and looked away and she gasped. “Oh my gosh, you have, haven’t you? You’ve saved a freaking cat. You couldn’t be more perfect if you tried.”
His eyes locked on hers, and Jordan backpedaled. “Not perfect for me. I meant for the show….”
It was the wrong thing to say.
His smile disappeared. “Get out of here, City. It was a tiny fire caused by a candle Magda left burning. No tragedy to help the ratings of your show.”
“That’s not—” She clenched her jaw in frustration. “I’m glad everyone’s okay.” Jordan turned on her heel, scanning the crowd until she found Simon, who was chatting with an older couple she didn’t recognize.
He broke away from the conversation as he saw her. “Everything okay?”
“Sure,” she said, even though she could still feel Luke’s glare burning into her back. “We should get going if you’re going to make your flight on time.”
“You sure you don’t want to come with me?” he said. “They have pretty good grilled cheese in New York too. We can find another guy for the show..”
“Trust me, I’m tempted,” Jordan muttered as she stalked toward her car, pulling open the driver’s side door. But despite her words, she found herself glancing up, doing a quick scan of the crowd until she found the guy she was looking for. Luke was shrugging out of his oxygen tank, but he stilled as though sensing her stare and met her gaze.
A silent, mutual communication passed between them. We’re not done here.
And neither one of them was talking about the TV show.
Chapter 9
Jordan spent more time debating what to wear to Tucker’s Tavern on a Thursday evening than she ever had prepping for a Saturday night out on the town in Manhattan.
For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out whether she wanted to fit in with the friendly people of Lucky Hollow or ensure that she didn’t.
In the end, her lack of options did her a favor. She’d need to find a way to get a few more of her things shipped to her, but until then she had only the handful of outfits she’d packed when she thought she’d be in Montana a day or two at most.
She settled on skinny jeans, an off-the-shoulder blue sweater, and the same black pumps she’d worn the first day.
Jordan used a curling iron to twirl her hair into its usual tossed style, added some depth to her blue eyes with a Chanel eye-shadow quad, and finished the whole thing off with a dash of tinted moisturizer, bronzer, and a swipe of neutral lip gloss.
Her rental home was an easy walk from the town’s main bar. Perhaps the only bar, although she hadn’t verified that.
As Tucker’s came into sight and the sound of Toby Keith hit her eardrums, she smiled. She’d never admit it to her friends back in New York, but she missed country music. Missed the down-home cheerfulness—the moody sad songs too.
Still, as she drew closer, she felt a little stab of regret that Simon wasn’t here. She understood, of course. The network needed Simon on site only if they were in actual negotiation talks with a potential candidate, and they were so far from that with Luke Elliott.
To that end, she also felt mildly guilty for not being entirely up front with her boss about the firmness of Luke’s refusal. She’d told Raven only that Luke was reluctant, and she’d received her boss’s usual take-no-prisoners response: Break him.
Raven was being hyperbolic—at least, Jordan was pretty sure. She had no intention of breaking Luke. Or even breaking her promise to stop asking him.
But if she was going to lose the top contender for Jilted’s starring role, she at least needed to be able to look her boss in the eye and say she’d done her best.
The producers who made it big around CBC were the ones who’d spent months in sub-Saharan Africa to get their reclusive poacher, the diehards who’d spent a full year on a navy submarine to determine whether or not there was enough material to warrant a reality show on life under the sea.
If Jordan wanted to make it as a TV producer, she couldn’t go running off because Luke Elliott was stubborn as hell.
Taking a deep breath, she hopped up the three steps to Tucker’s. It must have been a home at one point, because the worn-wood structure had a wraparound porch, with patio tables tucked against the wall, out of use until summer came around again. A few hanging flower baskets were clinging on for the remaining days before autumn settled in to stay.
