Everyone at the table howled with laughter as Jenna struggled to suck in a full breath.
"You okay? You look like you're going to pass out." Chris asked as he gauged the shadows created by the light streaming through the back window.
"No, I'm okay," Jenna whispered, planting a hand on the wall to steady herself. It was an old story. It was just an old story. Jenna repeated this to herself until the rush in her head retreated, then turned the screen of her tablet to Chris. Her skin prickled as she pointed out the shots she wanted from the dining room. Country was watching her. She could feel his eyes like the rays of the sun.
"Jenna, come sit and join us!" Curtis called out. "Your cameraman seems very capable."
Chris winked at him, and Jenna couldn't avoid looking up. "Go eat. I've got it."
She flipped the cover closed on her tablet and set it on the floor then made her way around the table to the seat next to Country. This was ridiculous. Her body was as amped up as a bottle rocket before it launched. All she had to do was relieve the pressure. When men made sexist comments at work, what did she do? She laughed. When they assumed they knew what she was thinking? She padded their egos. When they made a joke about how ridiculous it would be for her to be sitting at the desk, she joined them.
Jenna pulled out her chair and sat down. "The kiss would've been better if he'd taken the time to let me stand up first."
The table erupted, and Jenna put out a hand to take the prime rib from Tina. Easy. All she had to do was pretend it meant nothing to her. Pretend she wasn't shrivelling up like a dehydrated succulent at the memory of Gentry's eyes being only on her. She'd get through that afternoon like she got through board meetings with John and Archer. Smiles and head nods and a healthy dose of disassociation.
All of it worked. She ate dinner, laughed at the team’s stories, and even helped Chris get a few shots of the guys on the snowy grass with a bunch of beaten up hockey sticks Sean’s dad had in the garage.
She was washing dishes in the kitchen, complimenting Sharla on her impressive thimble collection, when Ryan walked in.
“You got what you needed?”
Jenna nodded. “Yep. Thank you so much.” Her eyes flicked to a flash of white and gold in his hands. “What is that?”
Ryan peeled back the wrapping. “Stole it from Country. It’s the best chocolate. You want a piece?”
Jenna froze with a saucepan half submerged in soapy water as her breath hissed from her lungs.
“I can’t finish the last piece.” Gentry carefully folded the square of chocolate in the remaining crumpled gold paper.
Jenna shook her head. “It’s going to get stale!”
“But I can’t get more of it, and it’s the best chocolate I’ve ever had.”
“So you’re going to deny yourself?”
He grinned and booped the end of her nose. “I’m going to keep this next to my bed to remind me that something this good exists.”
Jenna’s lips pinched as tears pricked her eyes. “We’ll only be three hours apart.”
“It’s an easy drive.”
Her nose scrunched. “We’re both going to be busy, but I’ll try to come up at the end of September?—”
“And I’ll come out for Thanksgiving.”
“You’re not flying home?” Hope bloomed in her chest.
Gentry shook his head and slipped his hands around her waist. “You’re my home, Jenna.”
Jenna stared at the label. It was the same brand, and it was almost a full bar.
Ryan rapped his knuckles on the counter. “Country was telling us about the segment, and I thought . . . you sure you don’t want some game footage?”
Jenna drew a breath. What exactly had Country told them? Had he kept his comments to the segment or the fact that she was hoping it would tip her hand favourably in the eyes of the execs?
“I just don’t think there’ll be time. I have to get the footage in by Tuesday.”
He shrugged. “We have a game tomorrow night.”
