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“So, what do you think?” Raven demanded impatiently.
I think it’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. I think it’ll turn Luke inside out.
“The people of Lucky Hollow don’t seem to be the biggest Eva fans,” Jordan said slowly. “I don’t know how much happy reception you’re going to get.”
“Oh, we can edit all that out. Or maybe I’ll bring a few extras to pretend sympathy for her—I’ll think about it. The key will be getting Luke’s reaction on camera when she confronts him about breaking her heart.”
Jordan pulled at her hair. “I’m not so sure that’s what happened.”
She sensed her boss’s frown. “But he did leave her at the altar, right?”
Jordan closed her eyes. Yes. Luke had told her as much. The first two failed weddings had been mutual; the last had been him. But she just knew there was more to the story.
“Well, yes, but—”
“Sweetie.” Raven’s voice was soft. Kind. Because although she could be an ambitious ballbuster, she was a nice person, in her way. “Do you have a thing for the firefighter?”
Jordan winced. “That obvious, huh?”
Raven sighed. “I’ve been wondering. Simon told me he’s hot, and of course you would feel guilty about noticing.”
“You do realize as my boss you’re supposed to get pissed.”
“Can’t. I’m a romantic. Or maybe just horny.”
“When do you get here?” she asked Raven.
“Tuesday or Wednesday. All I need from you is help figuring out where the firefighter will be. Heck, maybe it’s a good thing you’ve gotten to know him. You can figure out how to get him to a place that will play nice for the camera.
“And, Jordan…” her boss continued, “whatever it is between you two, you need to put it aside. This thing with Eva, it’s got legs. It’s good television.”
And there it was. Romantic or not, Raven was always about good television, no matter the cost.
Now Jordan just had to decide for herself—how much was she willing to pay?
Chapter 22
Whatever Jordan’s boss had said to her on the phone call had gotten under her skin. Luke had known it the second she came downstairs, tension written all over her usually smiling features.
At first he thought to let her work it out. He hadn’t said a word when she chugged her coffee instead of sipping it like she usually did while cuddling the cat and petting Winston.
And when she started out their run with a sprint instead of their usual warm-up jog, he’d simply met her grueling pace. He was a runner too. He knew that sometimes a good run could banish a bad thought. Knew that sometimes you needed to feel like you were outrunning your demons, even if they were ultimately still waiting for you at the finish line.
But when Jordan eventually slowed to a jog, then to a walk, he knew it hadn’t worked for her. Not this time.
Her mouth was pinched, her eyes guarded. Everything about her said, Leave me alone, but he couldn’t.
She let out an agitated huff, and when he saw her body coil as though about to burst into another sprint, he gently wrapped his hand around her elbow, pulled her toward him.
“Hey,” he said quietly. “Talk to me.”
She was panting, although he wasn’t sure if it was from her run or from whatever was racing through her mind.
“I can’t,” she said hoarsely. “I don’t know how.”
His hands moved over her arms. “How do I help?”
She pulled away and turned toward the lake, hands locked behind her head as she took in several deep breaths.
