Country fought to make his mouth form words. "I'm just now realizing that this was worse than Glen's diaper rash metaphor since you can't actually have strawberries, but I can, Jens. I can have them, and I'm sick of living life with all the other shitty fruit."
Jenna barked a laugh then clapped a hand over her mouth as her face twisted and her eyes began to glisten. "Gentry, can we?—"
"Kessler's back!" Owen called out as he burst back into the studio. Jenna and Country whirled. Owen, John, and the woman from makeup waltzed in with a very pale Glen trailing behind them.
"Definitely something I ate." Glen raised an arm, revealing a sweat stain that wrapped from mid-nipple to his scapula.
John stalked over to stand in front of them, his face tomato red. "What the hell was that, McAllister?"
Jenna straightened. "What the hell was what?"
"You think you can just sit down and take Kessler's place without any sort of discussion? You're not the executive producer here?—"
"Yes, you've made that abundantly clear," Jenna snapped. "When would you have recommended we have that discussion, John? While Glen was running to the washroom squeezing his cheeks or the thirty seconds before we went live?"
John shook his head. "Country was the only person contractually slotted for that broadcast?—"
"Which I told McAllister I wouldn't do solo. If you want to blame someone, blame me." Country stepped up to stand next to her.
"You're not a producer here, Country. Jenna knows the protocol."
"Do you have a clause for butt piss?” he asked.
John's nostrils flared, but Country was more interested in Jenna biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing out loud. The door to the studio burst open a second time.
"You guys have to see this." Rylen half walked, half jogged toward them, his head bent over a tablet. "I don't have all the data yet, but based on the traffic we're getting on our site and the volume of comments on socials . . ." Rylen held the tablet out like a boxed pizza so they could all take a look. "For comparison, the last broadcast with Kessler and Country had about three hundred comments by the time we signed off to regional."
Country blinked. One thousand and thirty comments.
"Where's the poll? I don't see it on the home page?"
"About time we saw a woman's face on HEC!"
"Was it just me or did Country look like he wanted to put his co-host in his mouth instead of lasagna?"
"I want to see his perfect lineup."
"McAllister has balls I’d hang from my bumper.”
Country pursed his lips as Rylen scrolled to a chart of their website hits. It looked like a ski jump.
John cleared his throat. "Well, that's encouraging. At least this debacle didn't destroy fan loyalty."
_____
Jenna scoffed. "At least there's that." She spun on her heel and pushed her way into the booth. Country followed, pressing up against her to get the door to close behind him.
Jenna stumbled forward, catching herself on Liam's shoulder. "Country, what the?—"
"Did you expect me to stay out there?"
She smoothed her skirt and muttered an apology to Liam. "Yeah. Kind of. There's nothing for you in here."
"I disagree." His gaze smouldered, and Jenna’s heart skittered in her chest.
Tasha looked up from her computer screen and looked between the two of them. "Nice chemistry. On set, I mean." She grinned, and Jenna's face felt like she'd lain out in the sun for three hours.
Jenna clasped her hands in front of her. "Anything you need? I'm sorry about the crazy. I can help pull reels if you want?"
