"Let's roll the power play from the second period if we can?" Country leaned in as the clip played on the screen in front of them. "They didn't capitalize on this opportunity, not because they don't have the talent, but because Folly is sitting on the bench while Shamar and Huzyluk are both on the ice." The clip dropped out, and Country turned to face the camera. “That trio is key to them converting, and right now Carrior is playing exclusively on the right wing?—"
"Because he's their star winger. You can't tell me they'd be better off benching him."
"Damn right, I can because it's the right move. Steak is one of my favourite foods, but am I going to eat it with bolognese sauce and mozzarella?" Jenna laughed out loud, but Country didn't stop. "Shit, no, because I need some noodles and parmesan. I need to layer those ingredients carefully and let them marinate together over time. Bake them up."
"Sometimes there isn't a perfect combination, Country. Sometimes you can mix and bake all you want but your ingredients are simply lacking," she muttered. Country's eyes narrowed, and tingles flashed through Jenna's body from crown to toe.
His eyes darkened. "Maybe sometimes you've been pushing for meat and potatoes for so long, you didn't realize that what you really need is Italian."
Jenna's cheeks flushed as her stomach dropped out the bottom of her seat. He was talking about the game. His stupid food metaphors.
Jenna cleared her throat. "Well, now you're just making me hungry." One minute. They had one minute to wrap up. "Tonight we have the Kings and Sharks coming your way, followed by the Rangers and Bruins, and I think I'm going to put up a little poll on our website and socials. See who you'll side with when it comes to player overall strength versus making proper lasagna." Jenna shot Country a look, but he only grinned back. "I know he's got a pretty face, but don't let that distract you. He's wrong. We've got plenty more lined up for you this evening, including what I'm sure will be a controversial Coach's Comments. Don't go away now."
_____
Country stared at Jenna as she pulled her mic off and set it on the desk. She held out her arms and fanned her face. "I'm sweating through my shirt."
"You look great."
"Way to take it easy on me. I was doing you a favour."
Country laughed. "You thought I was going to sit there and look pretty?"
She rolled her eyes. "I only said that to be funny."
"It was funny. And true."
"Please, somebody tell me that Glen's back from the washroom?" She called out, stepping down from the stage and walking past the lights. Country couldn't spot John or Owen behind the cameras. Of course they hadn't been there to see Jenna be the hero.
"Jenna, wait." They had at least thirty minutes before he'd need to be back at the desk with or without Glen Kessler. Had Jenna insinuated he'd be doing Coach's Comments?
Jenna glanced over her shoulder as she made her way to the booth, and Country could barely contain the giddiness bubbling up in his chest. Something had happened during their on-screen banter. A flip had switched. Since the weekend, after leaving her bed, he'd viewed the world through a mud-washed windshield, and the second Jenna had said, "Your ingredients are simply lacking" that glass had transformed to crystal clear and streak-free.
Nothing was lacking in their ingredients.
Jenna had decided that they couldn't mix properly, and truthfully, up until that moment, Country wasn't sure he still hadn’t been hunting for the perfect steak.
Country rushed forward and put a hand out to block her from going into the booth where Tasha and Liam were watching the first period of the Kings-Sharks game. He lowered his voice. "Can we talk for a second?"
She quirked an eyebrow. "We just talked."
"That wasn't talking."
Jenna planted a hand on her hip. "Can it wait? We're kind of in the middle of a crisis."
"I agree, and no, that's exactly why this can't wait. Every time we're in this damn studio, you disappear faster than a snowflake on a hot stove." He lowered his arm as Jenna glanced around the studio.
She angled her body so the cameramen couldn't see her lips. "What is so important?"
"I want Italian."
Jenna's brows pulled together. "After? I know a place that's?—"
"No, Jenna." Country's breath was uneven, and his heart beat in his throat. "I could've had steak at any point over the past thirteen years. I had opportunities. I could've jumped in and built the lineup I thought I always wanted, but I didn't." He ran a shaky hand through his hair. He was making no sense even though every pretentious metaphor he'd used during the segment had clicked perfectly into place for his brain.
He tried a different tack. "I had strawberries once—I had them every day for four years—and then I was told I couldn't have them. Which I hated, but then thought I could enjoy other fruits. Nothing has compared. Hasn’t even come close. No perfect combination. And even though you're telling me other fruit could be better for me, it turns out that once you have strawberries, you can't just go back to life without them."
Jenna blinked, her lips slightly parted. "We're not still talking about the Oilers."
