With a clap on Erik’s back, the suit spun around and disappeared behind the corner of the set, leaving him alone with Josie again. She tugged on the hem of his chef’s coat and smoothed a wisp of hair back into his bun, beaming at him the whole time. “You look great. The coat, the hair, the scruff. You’re going to be amazing. I’ve always said that you’re as big a selling point as your cakes.”
That’s when he realized she had no idea what this was doing to him. No fucking idea. He could actually feel the blood freezing in his veins, and all she could do was talk about marketing opportunities. He opened his mouth, but his throat was too tight for him to speak.
“Just think how many people will hear about your new bakery. This is gonna behuge.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and stretched up to kiss him, and even in his state of abject horror, he melted briefly at the press of her lips, soft and pliant against his. He couldn’t help it; his body was hers to command. But when she pulled away, the terror crashed in again.
She had to know how impossible this was. How awful he’d be on camera. Why was she doing this? His growing panic finally freed up his vocal cords.
“Jos, no way can I—”
“Here you are! Erik, right?” A plastic-looking man with rock-hard silver hair and enormous chompers approached with his hand extended. “Donnie Parker. We’ll be live for three minutes, and I’ll keep things open-ended so you can guide the conversation.”
“Actually,” Josie interjected, “he might do better with some direction. It’s his first time on camera. Here.” She whipped a notepad out of her purse and scrawled a few words. “New business location, where he trained, decorating inspiration, favorite flavors. Anything else, babe?”
She flicked her eyes Erik’s way, practically bouncing on her heels in excitement, but his joints were locked up and he couldn’t move his head to nod or shout at her that this was an awful fucking idea. With a wink in his direction, she tore out the sheet and handed it to Donnie as a crew member clipped a microphone to his jacket and herded him toward the set.
“This is it!” Josie called after him. “Your business is gonna explode!”
“Ten seconds!” the man behind the camera called.
Erik squinted into the bright lights, searching for Josie amid the jumble of people meandering around in front of the set. Instead, his eyes locked on Dora, watching from the sidelines with an evil, anticipatory smile on her lips.Sheknew how bad this was going to be. He desperately pulled his gaze away until he found the red of Josie’s hair, directly in his line of sight next to the main camera. She offered him her widest smile, a thumbs-up, and a mouthed,I love you.And in that moment, a tiny part of him hated her.
Then the red light on the camera turned on, and Erik did his best not to puke all over Chicago’s most beloved morning-show host in front of tens of thousands of viewers at home.
Thirty
Josie couldn’t stop grinning. Her man was out there crushing it. He frowned a little as he listened to Donnie’s questions and nodded earnestly as he spoke about his favorite flavor profiles and what decorating trends were poised to take off next season. His initial stiffness softened into a bashful charm, and when he crossed his arms over his chest and his forearms flexed, she heard the woman who’d mic’d him up heave a gusting sigh.
“So does that mean people wanting a cake tomorrow are out of luck?” Donnie beamed.
“Not at all. We’re taking orders now, and our grand opening is this Saturday from two to five.” Erik looked right to the camera, expression serious.
“Take me now, Lord,” the microphone woman breathed. Such was the power of those bright blue eyes in that ruggedly pretty face.
“Give me a break,” muttered a voice behind her as Donnie tossed the broadcast back to his cohost in the main studio.
Josie turned to see a pissed-off Dora and offered a sickeningly sweet smile in return. “Oh, I’m so sorry, did you not bring your personal marketing expert with you to make sure you got good placement on the morning show?”
“I taught him everything he knows,” the woman hissed, and Josie just laughed.
“Oh honey, we both know that’s not true.” She didn’t break out the “oh honey” very often, but Dora had richly earned it. Without waiting to see how her barb landed, Josie moved forward to greet Erik when he stepped off set.
“You were amazing!” she squealed, flinging her arms around his neck, then moving away to let the crew member reclaim the lav mic. Erik was sweaty and frowning, and she dropped her hands to his shoulders, squeezing those lovely muscles to chase away the tension there. Her mind spun as she starting thinking up new marketing strategies. “This is just the beginning. We could have you do web videos. Short little things demonstrating your different techniques. How-tos. Tours of the kitchen. Oh my God, the audience reach would be incredible.”
“Josie,” he said, reaching up to grab her hands, but she was too excited by the ideas crystallizing in her brain to stop. She pulled free and gestured in the air as she kept spinning plans.
“Think how great a series of videos would be to drive content for web and social, and we could—”
“Goddammit, Josie, shut up for one minute!” he roared.
The woman with the mic froze in the act of winding the cord back into its case while around them, all action in the studio paused for what felt like an eternity. Mic woman scuttled away wide-eyed, and soon enough the rest of the station employees shrugged and turned back to packing up and moving out of the kitchen studio. Josie, however, was rooted to the spot in shock.
Erik had yelled.Yelled.He’d yelledather.
She stepped forward, but he flinched away from her, turned on his heel, and stormed out of the studio. Her heart hammered in time to the tapping of her high heels as she hurried after him. What had just gone wrong here?
She caught up with him in the hallway, where he was leaning against the wall, body rigid.
“Erik, what’s—?”
