Country pulled it on his head instead, and Jenna forced her eyes to the painted lines ahead of her on the street. Every movement he made seemed to blow dust off another forgotten piece of herself. Ooh, remember the first time a guy felt you up? They were his hands. Remember how his cheeks looked exactly like that when you skipped school in grade twelve and went skiing at Sunshine? Remember. Remember. Remember.
It was like she was being waterboarded with little droplets of past excitement and joy, and all she could think about was how long it’d been since any guy unclasped her bra. Was it possible to be jealous of her past self?
John pushed through the frosted glass door of the lounge, and a gust of frigid Calgary air rushed in with them, biting at their heels. "Nothing beats the warmth of a good bar after a day out in the tundra.” He unwrapped his scarf and scanned the room.
Soft, amber light spilled from exposed Edison bulbs, illuminating the rich wood panelling, brass accents, and plush leather seating. The rich aroma of butter and garlic enveloped her, and Jenna sighed as she inched closer to the gas fire licking the glass behind the hostess’ desk.
“Reminds you you’re alive,” Country murmured.
Jenna frowned, unable to hear his words through the clinking of glasses and hum of conversation. “What?”
He leaned closer, and the pocket on his coat brushed her lapel. “The cold. At least that’s what I tell myself during calving season.”
“You still have to do that? Go out in the middle of the night?” She’d gone out with him once. He’d called her at three in the morning, and she’d sat with him in the barn with hay poking through her doubled-up leggings while a roan cow had moaned in labour, her breath billowing in clouds from her flared nostrils.
Country nodded. “We have ranch hands, so I don’t have to do all of it. But Polk and I wouldn’t miss it.”
Polk. She’d forgotten all about Country’s brother. He had three of them, but Polk was the one closest to him in age, only two years younger. “He still lives at home?”
Country frowned. He was still so close that Jenna could smell that same clean ocean breeze. “Is that what you think?”
Her breath caught. “What?”
“That we’re all over there on the ranch snuggling up in our childhood beds?”
“No, I just—wouldn’t you have to live close? If you’re working there every day?”
“Are you expecting me to drive into town and serenade a bunch of helpless maidens while I swing around light poles?”
Jenna rolled her eyes. “I just thought you started work early, so it would be convenient.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We do have trucks.”
“Right.”
“I have my own house, Jenna.”
She snapped her mouth shut. His own house. Of course he did. That’s what your life looked like when you were a stable adult, wasn’t it? Jenna was still wobbling on one end of a teeter-totter. She nodded. “Right. And Polk?”
Country smirked. “He still lives with our parents.”
Jenna’s eyes widened. Before she could tell him where to shove the last three minutes of conversation, John was on the move. She settled for a whispered, “Glad to see your arrogance is still intact.”
Country’s grin widened. “Glad to see you’re still too easy to mess with.”
Jenna ground her teeth.
Archer, with his ruddy face and bald head, was easily recognizable, already seated in a corner booth at the back. He waved back to John, and they wound their way, single file, through the tables. John slid into the booth on one side and Kessler on the other. Jenna strategically followed Glen so she'd be across the table from John and only realized her spatial misjudgment when Country took the seat next to him, sitting directly across from her. His shoe bumped hers, and she snapped her legs back.
Jenna held out her phone to access the QR code menu as Archer put out a hand diagonally across the table toward Country. The sleeve of his wool sports jacket nearly knocked over the wine list.
“So you're our influencer for the spot.” Archer was quieter than John. More stoic. Jenna had heard him order lunch, cancel thousands of dollars of sponsorship money, and praise a member of the staff, and in every single instance, his voice never varied in volume or tone. She never knew whether he was livid or ecstatic, or if he was even capable of feeling those emotions. Though, he did have a framed picture of his fourteen grandchildren front and centre on his desk.
Country shook his hand. “I don't know who I'm influencing, but it can't be for good.” Archer drew his hand back, his lips still pulled into a line. He was technically the same age as John, but his introversion made him seem closer to death.
She didn't have a pulse on who between John and Archer had more sway in the decision-making with the higher-ups at the network, and that was a puzzle she was still grinding to solve. Regardless, John was more hands-on with HEC, so that's who she had access to. Now that he’d officially announced he was planning to retire in the near future, Jenna was laser-focused on becoming his replacement.
The fact that she'd been promoted to producer on the show proved that they already saw her as valuable. At least theoretically. But now Owen was there, and he had the benefit of harbouring the correct genitalia.
