Page 11 of Ten Rules for Faking It
“Is the station phone going nuts?”
Now he shrugged. He didn’t want to talk about work, which in and of itself was strange. His gaze was fixed on the spoon with the bite of creamy rich chocolate heading for her mouth. She licked her lips before opening them, and Chris’s stomach tightened, his breathing shallowed. He could imagine, vividly, how she’d taste. The chocolate covering a hint of caramel with whatever would be uniquely Everly. When her eyes drifted shut, her mouth closing around the spoon, he curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to lean into her. Inhale her. Taste for himself.
Her eyes fluttered open, locked on his. “Delicious.”
Yes. Yes, she was. He needed to get back to work.
“I should go.” It might have come out a little sharper than he’d intended, butcome on,he was hanging by a thread here. Between wanting to hug her, kiss her, comfort her, and have a strongly worded conversation with her ex, Chris’s emotions were on overload.
Tilting her head to one side again, her hair swung to the left, giving him the scent of vanilla. Pursing her lips, she studied him. “Why did you bring this? You don’t even like me.”
Shock silenced him. His heart beat an uneven tempo beneath his ribs. That’s what she thought?I like you too much. I think about you all the time, and it distracts me. You make me think about coming home to a tree-lined street in a quiet neighborhood. You make me forget why I’m here.
“That’s not true. At all,” he managed, voice gruff.
Her eyebrows arched up. “Really? Evidence would suggest otherwise.”
Whatevidence? He was always polite and professional with her—he made sure of it. It took a tangible amount of energy to not clue her in to how he felt. Usually, he walked away from an interaction with her feeling like he’d run a race in jeans.
“I’m not sure what you mean or why you think that,” he admitted. “But I promise you, it isn’t true.” What else could he say?
Fighting to stay still, not shuffle under her watchful gaze, he wished he could think of something else to say to erase her look of doubt.
“Well… thanks.”
Shoving one hand in his pocket, he retrieved his keys, closed his fingers around them tightly. “No problem. See you tomorrow.”
He let himself out, nearly flew down the stairs in his efforts to get some fresh air. His phone rang the minute he got back in his car.
His chest still felt tight. “Hello?”
“It’s me,” his father said, his voice booming through the Bluetooth.
“I secured two new sponsors today.”
He didn’t expect applause or even a “Good job.” He knew better.
“Your sister was listening to the show this morning.”
Chris bit back his groan. He loved his sister. He truly did. But she was the only girl in a family of boys—extended family included—and she was the epitome of indulged. Particularly by their father. At thirty-three, she’d yet to hold down a job long term because she was too busy “finding herself.” Ari spent her days searching for her chakras or chi or whatever it might be at the moment. Usually, she found them at star-studded parties or all-inclusive spas.
“I don’t need to tell you how bad dead air is for a radio station, do I?”
Nope. But he would, anyway. “It was seconds.”
“Seconds following an unprofessional outburst from your producer. I told you to boost ratings, not find ways to tank them.”
“Dad.” He could already see where this was going. The back of his neck prickled.
“Ari’s been thinking about hosting a show. Something tied into her love of fashion.”
There it is.He dropped his head to the steering wheel. It was bad enough to have his dad checking in with him constantly. Weekly phone calls, Skype sessions, memos with suggestions. Chris did not want his older sister underfoot for his final few months. He definitely didn’t want to be her boss—knowing she wouldn’t listen to anything he said—for the brief slice of time she’d explore this new adventure.
Besides, that spot was currently filled with two very capable employees. The ratings weren’t great, but they weren’t down by much in comparison to the other slots. The station was doing better than when he’d arrived. After having gone through several management changes over the last few years, the staff who’d been there awhile were tentative about Chris’s arrival. He’d overheard them on his first day, commiserating about the new owner, how he’d emailed a list of expectations and policies. Not wanting to set himself back before he even got his feet wet, Chris hadn’t mentioned he was the owner’s son. Seemed safer. Ari had no desire to have people like her if telling them who their father was got her where she wanted to be quicker.
“This isn’t something someone just does for fun. These people go to school. They intern, pay their dues. They’re passionate about it. It’s a career, not a hobby.” This felt like another test. “The station is under my control, Dad. Things are going well, and today was nothing more than a hiccup.”
“My guy keeping an eye on your numbers says you’re not even rated as one of the top stations in the state. You’ve got a long way to go and not a ton of time to do it. Maybe it’s morethan you can handle.” The words sat between them like concrete. Working for his dad felt like being on a reality show likeSurvivororMasterChef.The contestants got in the groove, and all of a sudden, the host throws a wrench into things, making winning feel impossible.
