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While his grip was rather lacking, Rodney shook my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.” Jerking a thumb at the door, he said, “My team is outside getting some shots of the town.”

Inwardly, I groaned. “I know it must seem awfully chaotic, but they’re setting up for the parade.”

Waving his hand, he replied, “Oh, don’t worry at all. I want to soak up every aspect of this town.” As he craned his neck around, a beaming smile lit up his face. “This place is so adorably retro.”

My smile froze on my face. Retro? That wasn’t exactly how I would’ve classified what I perceived to be our historically accurate Bavarian decor.

Since I didn’t know what else to say that wouldn’t have me sounding argumentative, I managed, “You’re too kind.”

After jabbing one stem of his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, Rodney continued appraising the restaurant. “Honestly, you are to be commended for producing such a product as Vanir under these conditions.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled at his backhanded compliment. With every negative comment Rodney made, I felt like a balloon deflating bit by bit.

With a sugary sweet smile, I replied, “I’m glad you see my ingenuity as a plus.”

“Oh, it is, it is.” His eyes then narrowed on me and my outfit before chuckling. “You really went all out, didn’t you?”

Asshole. “During Oktoberfest, I like to put my most festive foot forward.” I motioned to where Rory stood petting Ozzy. “The entire staff is outfitted in head-to-toe authentic Alpine attire.”

Clapping his hands together, Rodney exclaimed, “It’s so kitchy!”

“Thank you,” I gritted out.

At the sound of the brass band warming up, Rodney spun towards the door. “Let me check on my crew.” Apparently I was supposed to have taken that for an invitation because he flicked his wrist at me over his shoulder, beckoning me to follow.

Glumly, I fell in step with him out the door. At the sight of patrons wanting to get in, Rodney turned his attention from me to beckon to his cameraman. Jabbing his finger at the people, he ordered, “Get that!”

I’d just shot an apologetic look at some of the guests who appeared camera-shy when out of the corner of my eye, a mound of fur came barreling at me. In horror, I whirled to face what I assumed was a bear, only to realize it wasn’t an animal.

It was just a very hairy and very bulky man.

Apparently he’d tripped on the curb, which sent him flying forward with the crooks of his arms packed with steins of foamy beer.

And then we collided.

The force of said collision was enough to send the beer catapulting through the air. As the ice-cold liquid cascaded over my skin, a shriek tore from my lips that could’ve shattered glass.

For a moment, all I could do was heave in and out as I desperately tried to catch my breath. To my mortification, Rodney appeared with his cameraman. His furry brows bunched together, making a unibrow that looked like a caterpillar inching across his forehead. “Jesus, are you all right?”

As I continued to try regulating my breathing, my neck dipped to take the beer damage.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no! Normally the sight of my breasts didn’t have a negative effect on me. It was more about the fact that with the design of the dress aka the corset middle, I wasn’t wearing a bra. That further meant I was standing before Rodney Hanes with the front of my dress completely see-through that had me wishing for the pavement to open up and swallow me whole.

“Nice tits,” the bear man remarked before stumbling away.

At his remark, heat burned in my cheeks as I immediately crossed my forearms over my chest. When I dared to look at Rodney, I found he was looking anywhere but at me. His cameraman, however, stood there staring wide-eyed and wide-mouthed at me.

“Will you excuse me for just a moment?”

Before he could answer, I whirled around and did a Sprint of Shame, rather than Walk.

CHAPTER TWO: GAVIN

As I sped through the red and orange fall foliage of the North Georgia mountains, I tapped my thumbs against the steering wheel in time with the music blaring through the speakers. It was then I realized I was rocking out to some Kidz Bop version of Hot To Go.

Jesus, talk about revoking my man card. Although I scrunched my face in disgust, I didn’t dare make a move to change the song. I knew if I did, I’d catch hell from my three-year-old son, Owen, who was currently bopping to the beat in his car seat.