The Tilt-A-Whirl I’ve been riding for the past couple of minutes screeches to a halt.
Drakeisn’tMercy Malone, but something tells me my viewers would be just as happy to see him for an hour. And it wouldn’t exactly be a hardship for me, either.
A quiver rumbles through my stomach as I check the time.Am I out of my mind? What would we talk about? What would I ask him? How do I make it as exciting as I’ve promised everyone?
I have no idea. But with time ticking, I don’t really have another choice.
Blood pounds through my veins, roaring over my eardrums. Sweat dots the back of my neck as adrenaline kicks in fast and hard. I’m not sure what kind of crisis my body is anticipating, but I know the one I’m about to give it.
“Francine, we have seven minutes,” I say, forcing a swallow down my throat. “Please get to your booth because we’re going live.”
Her brows arch in surprise, but a grin smooths the reaction. “You got it.”
I follow her to the doorway. As she exits, I reach out, wrapping my fingers around Drake’s forearm, and pull him to a stop.
He lifts a brow, grinning. “That’s one way to say hello.”
“Drake, I need you.”
“I knew it,” he says playfully. “Glad you’re finally on board.”
I roll my eyes. “Are you busy right now?”
“If I were, I’d cancel all my plans for you. Why? What’s up?”
Did he just flex his biceps? Damn.“This isn’t the time for jokes.”Or foreplay.
He smirks. “Who said I was joking?”
Other podcasters and support staff move past us, giving us curious looks as they go. A clock ticks in the back of my brain, reminding me that time is not on my side. Neither is privacy standing in the middle of Canoodle.
“Come here,” I say, dropping his arm and stepping into my recording studio. “Shut the door behind you.”
“I like where this is heading.”
I take a deep breath.Three minutes. “Keep this between us?”
“Absolutely.”
This isn’t going where he thinks it’s going, and that’s a shame. I wipe any indication of levity from my features. “Mercy Malone was supposed to be my guest today, but she’s been in an accident.”
His eyes go wide, but he doesn’t speak. Thankfully.
“I have three, maybe two minutes to find a replacement and?—”
“What do you need?” He stares at me earnestly. “How can I help you?”
Francine taps the glass and holds up two fingers.Fuck.
I was so organized. The planning was done. I had a flow chart of topics, memorized Mercy’s life history, and even dug her concert T-shirt out of the back of my closet …for nothing.
“Need me to fill in?” Drake asks, already slipping off his jacket. “I think we’ve already established that I’m quite the draw.”
“Will you?”
He sits in the chair across from my computer and adjusts the mic. “Do you have a game plan for this, or are we winging it?”
Relief touches every piece of me as I drop into my seat. My entire body takes a breath. I start to speak, but choose that same moment to look up … and into those clear pools of blue. The genuineness in them pauses time, and the frantic pace of my brain finally eases.
