After a frustrating two hours, made even more frustrating when Brandon returned to conduct a loud phone call with the home office from the desk next to his, he realized what was pecking away at his brain: the station furniture. He’d grown up in a house with a couch that would tear a hole in every pair of pants you owned if you weren’t careful to avoid the spring poking out of the cushion. No amount of duct tape had been able to contain it, and his mom couldn’t afford to replace it. He’d been devastated at sixteen when he’d sat down on it without thinking and ruined his only decent pair of jeans, the ones he’d saved up forever to buy. That scratch on Mabel’s arm had brought back all the helpless anger over his situation that he’d felt growing up.
The station furniture might check a childhood-trauma box for him, but a decade and a half later, he was in a position to do something about it. He looked across his desk to Brandon, who was tapping away at his laptop on… honestly, Jake had no idea what occupied Brandon’s days.
“Mind if I take the Lowell credit card out for a spin?” he asked. “Your new employees are in dire need of decent furniture in that biohazard they call a greenroom.”
Brandon’s brows arched, but he fished his wallet out of his back pocket without hesitation and tossed a shiny black card on the desk next to Jake’s coffee. “You really are a full-service accountant. Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks.” Jake pocketed the card, glad Brandon hadn’t pressed him on the issue. He wasn’t ashamed of how he’d grown up, but he didn’t particularly enjoy discussing it either.
He had a corporate card andcarte blanche. The most efficient option was to pick a few things out online and get them ordered. But he wasn’t able to focus on his laptop screen, so he pushed it aside and set out to find Mabel. If he was doing this, he might as well go all the way.
He walked down the hall to stand outside the secondary recording booth, where he tucked his hands into his pockets and enjoyed the show as Mabel spoke animatedly into a microphone. Her expressive face and broad gestures pulled a smile from him, and she grinned back when she caught sight of him on the other side of the glass. As soon as she flipped a switch and theRecordingsign in the hallway snapped off, he crooked a finger to summon her into the hallway. She wrinkled her nose at him in adorable confusion but slid the big headphones off and stepped through the heavy door.
“What’s up?”
“Come furniture shopping with me tomorrow.”
She looked at him like he’d suggested they rob a bank.“Furniture shopping?”
“Yes. Furniture shopping. For the greenroom.” Itwasan odd request, but for reasons he’d rather not explore, he wanted to buy the damn stuff in person, and he wanted her with him when he did it.
“Why me?”
Because I like you the best.And he didn’t just mean out of all the deejays; he meant out of all of them. Everyone he’d met in Beaucoeur. Maybe everyone he knew in Chicago, even. But that was a bit too fucking honest, so he deflected. “Because I didn’t want to pick out furniture with Dave.”
That satisfied her. “Smart. He’s got lousy taste.” Then she narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Wait, what’s wrong with the furniture we have?”
“I won’t abide a couch that draws blood,” he said, eyes falling to her wrist. And this time he gave in to temptation and touched her, grasping her wrist with one hand and brushing the fingers of his other hand along the skin next to the scratch on her arm.
Instant electricity. It leaped from her skin to his, and his nerves jangled to life as if they’d been jump-started with the cables he’d used on the station van that first week. His breath caught in his lungs as everything about Mabel was suddenly magnified by a thousand. The sweet scent of her skin, the golden glint of her hair, the heat of her arm in his hand. He felt the snap of the molecules around them surging to life and pulling at him, whispering that this woman who’d so enchanted him with her voice and her mind was also the person he wanted to kiss. Undress. Claim.
Unaware that a whole new galaxy was unfurling in his mind, Mabel nibbled on one corner of her lip before slanting a smile at him. “Let’s do it. You’re in good hands with me.”
His fingers involuntarily tightened at the implications, and he abruptly broke contact.
“After your show tomorrow. Be ready.” He clipped off his words and spun away from her, striding back to his office to give himself some distance. He powered down his laptop and shrugged into his suit jacket, desperate to get out of the building and wrestle his body under control. But there was Brandon, lying in wait.
“Hey, before you go, I reviewed the analysis you did on revenue during the different on-air shifts, and I based this proposed schedule revision around it. What do you think?”
Brandon slid a colorful grid across the table, but Jake shook his head. “I’m a numbers guy, not a radio guy. I have zero useful input on your programming decisions.”
Brandon tapped a finger on the paper. “Yeah, but you’ve been looking at trends for the different shows and know where the weak spots are. Just take a quick look.”
He impatiently scanned the sheet. What he saw at first made no sense, and then Brandon’s plan clicked into place and drove every last distracting sexual thought from his mind. “You’re separating them.”
Brandon slouched lazily in his chair. “I am.”
“Are you sure you want to do that?” Jake frowned down at the paper. “Mabel and Dave seem like a pretty great team.”
“Not sure about anything yet, but consider the numbers, Jakehammer.” Brandon offered him a patient smile.
His analytical mind whirred into motion, and he nodded slowly, working it out. “They’re the most popular show by far. You think that splitting them up and moving Mabel to afternoon drive will keep the good ratings going all day.”
Brandon shot a pair of finger guns at him that set Jake’s teeth on edge. “That’s the hope. I want all my plans in place before I announce any changes, but right now it seems like the best solution to shake things up.”
Jake kept staring at the grid. “Are you sure about this? They seem stronger as a duo.”
Brandon flicked his fingers, brushing away Jake’s words. “Your only job here is to tell me if I stop making money. And I don’t want any unnecessary drama before the announcement, so not a word to anyone.”
