14. Heather
14
Heather
I sat in the parking lot and stared at the neon-lit building. Grabbing my cell, I typed in a text.
HEATHER: Are you going to be here soon?
It seemed to take forever for her reply. Finally, long after the screen had gone dark again my cell buzzed.
LUCY: No. I had to get dressed and it’s like an hour and a half drive from here! I’ll be there when I can.
Crud. I was going to have to go in alone.
Walking into a strange bar on my own was not high on my list of things I wanted to do, but I was going to do it. I saw Drew’s truck—hard to miss with the Bowman Farm stenciled on the door—so at least I knew he and David were inside.
Not that that made it easier. David had become . . . complicated in my mind.
It had been easy to openly loathe all he stood for even as I privately lusted after the man. But then Anna dropped the bomb about the million-dollar donation to the shelter. And the truck of food. And the astonishing fact he unloaded that truck of donated pet food for the shelter personally.
Then there was his heart-wrenching story. The tragedy with his father. The way he put so many people to work, which no doubt profoundly changed their lives. He probably rejuvenated the entire economy of some of those small towns by reopening those empty factories.
Now that I couldn’t hate him I was starting to have . . . feelings. Complicated feelings. Some of them below my belt . . . if I had been wearing a belt.
But he was leaving soon, so that was definitely good.
I’d help him, hopefully, clean up the Strickland image then he’d go back to his life in Texas.
We’d part as friends.
Good. That was good.
So why was my heart pounding as I walked through the door and scanned the crowd clustered inside watching the band? I’d like to think it was because the video I’d mocked up for Strickland could possibly be the most important piece of PR work I’d ever done.
It felt like I could make a difference, instead of what I usually did. My crisis management usually entailed publicly cleaning up the messes the cast of our unscripted shows got themselves into.
But I had a bad feeling my nerves walking into this bar had nothing to do with the video I was about to present, and everything to do with the tall man standing in the back waving me down.
David towered above half the patrons in this place. He would even without the added height of his cowboy hat and boots.
What was it about tall guys that made my heart go pitter pat? Especially this tall guy, whose attitude was as big as his boat-sized feet.
Drawing in a breath, I headed to the back corner where, thankfully, I saw Drew also. At least I wouldn’t be alone with David. That would have been too . . . weird.
“Hi.” I smiled.
“Hey, darlin’,” David replied with a knee-weakening smile.
Drew stood and pulled a chair around for me to sit in. “Hey, Heather. Nice seeing you twice in one day.”
It was a little startling to realize it was just earlier today that I’d stopped by the farm to check on the crew’s progress and found David out of sorts.
Between then and now I’d discovered so much about David Strickland and his company—both good and bad.
It felt like the longest day of my life and it wasn’t over yet.
David waved to a passing waitress as I settled in my seat. “What do you want to drink?” he asked.
There was a country band blaring in one corner. The two men had bottles of beer in front of them. And there was so much neon promoting various brands on the walls it was almost blinding. I had a feeling getting a decent wine would be asking too much, even if we were in California.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” I said.
It seemed like the smart move and I wasn’t opposed to a nice cold beer once in a while, especially in such an appropriate setting.
David placed the order and turned back to me. “So, you’re fast.”
It took me a second to pin down what he was commenting about. Probably not that I’d arrived in barely twenty-five minutes. Definitely not about how I’d come in like a minute with my vibrator while thinking about him last night . . .
David had to be referring to my having something to show him regarding the campaign for his company.
I shrugged. “It’s what I do.”
The truth was I was bored in that condo all alone. I’d already binged through the whole new season of the show I’d been waiting to air, and now I’d have to wait another year for the next season.
Given that frustration, I was so annoyed by the thought of that wait that I didn’t want to give any more of my time or attention to another show right now.
Working on David’s project seemed the best distraction. And once I got started, there was no stopping.
I glanced around. It was loud in here, but luckily I was a woman who was always prepared. Well, mostly. I pulled my ear pods out of my purse and handed them to him.
He looked at me in question.
“I have a video I want you to watch,” I said as I found it on my cell. “It’s just preliminary. Really rough. But I think it will give you an idea of what I have in mind. It’s got audio but I don’t think you’ll be able to hear it without earphones.”
In fact, I was shouting at him now so I was sure of it.
“All right.” David stuck the ear pods in his ears and took the cell I offered.
I was dying to run around behind him so I could watch along with him. See both the spot and his reaction to each part of it as he saw it for the first time. I restrained myself and stayed in my seat.
“What’s all this?” Drew frowned at David then glanced at me.
“David didn’t tell you?”
Drew laughed. “No. But I’m not surprised. He keeps things close to the vest.”
“I offered to work on a public relations plan for Strickland.”
Drew nodded but didn’t say what I had a feeling he was thinking. Strickland needed it if more than six months later what had happened was still in the public eye. More than that, it was going to be mentioned in the show, if it got picked up.
I was sure of it, no matter how I tried to avoid it. A juicy scandal was good for ratings. First and foremost that’s what Millennia cared about, because it was the only thing that the networks cared about.
I glanced up and saw David’s expression. Serious. Rapt. I knew the video by heart, I’d watched it so many times as I edited the pieces together.
There was a short piece of Drew and a sweeping shot of his place. I’d grabbed the footage from all that had been shot the past few days. I included a snippet of him saying, “I’m Drew Bowman. This is Bowman Farm in Cerritos, California. We’re a supplier for Strickland Feed Corporation.”
Next was a shot of the welcome sign from one of the towns where David had bought and reopened a canning facility.
A deep dive internet search had given me the location of the factory. A single call to the plant manager had gotten me an amazing video shot on her cell phone but I couldn’t have asked for anything better.
She began by saying, “I’m Gail Jones, the manager of the Springfield Strickland Feed facility.” Then gathered behind her on the factory floor, what looked like a hundred of the workers all said in unison, “And we proudly produce Strickland Feed.”
Finally, thanks to Anna, there was an amazing video taken at the shelter. She was hugging a puppy as she said, “We’re the Hermosa Beach Animal Shelter and we feed our animals Strickland pet food.”
The end was a montage of scenes of the farm, the factory and the shelter flashed on screen along with the words: Sourced. Produced. Fed. Right here in America.
I closed the spot with a close up of Anna’s gorgeous son playing with a puppy and a kitten in the backyard of the shelter as on screen read, Strickland. They care because you care.
David drew in a big stuttering breath as he laid my cell on the table and pulled out the ear pods.
“Well?” I asked, absently thanking the waitress as she set the beer in front of me on a napkin.
All I cared about was what David thought of the spot. My creative ego needed some sort of feedback. But the man hadn’t said a word yet.
He shoved the chair back. It hit the wall as he stood and walked around the table, pulled me out of my chair and hugged me hard.
I felt him press his chin against the top of my head. He towered over me so I could feel the pounding of his heart against my cheek.
“Does this mean you like it?” I asked, muffled against his chest.
I felt him nod, but still no words.
I managed to see past David’s arms as they encompassed me to where Drew had picked up the phone and the ear pods and watched the video.
Drew smiled. “Heather, this is amazing.”
“Really?” I asked, pulling away from David enough I could speak to Drew.
“Really,” David finally said, answering my question to Drew as he pulled back and released me from the odd but really nice captivity in his arms.
I saw a complex mix of emotions play across his face.
“It needs to be reproduced, you know, for real. With a camera and lighting and proper sound equipment,” I began.
David shook his head. “No. Don’t you dare change a thing. It’s absolutely perfect the way it is.”
“I agree.” Drew held out the cell to me, but David intercepted it.
“I’m sending this to my head marketing person at the office. We can post this, right?” David asked.
“Uh, yeah. Everybody has signed releases so we’re good.” If nothing else, that was ingrained in me by Millennia to get permission first, and shoot second. “Drew, you don’t mind that I used your footage from Millennia for this, do you?”
“No. Not at all. Please. Use whatever you need.”
“Good. Thanks.”
David sent the video and glanced at me as he passed back the cell. “You have any other ideas?”
I laughed. “Yeah. A couple.” I was full of them.
“Good. I want to hear them all,” David said.
“Me too. So sit down, drink up, and spill.” Drew pushed the beer closer to me.
I did just that until Lucy showed up. And then after that there might have been a round of shots . . . or two.
The band played three sets and then announced the last song and we were still there going strong.
I started to realize that although the guys seemed perfectly fine, I probably should not be driving the half an hour home after having three beers. Especially since my dinner had been some cheese and crackers I’d nibbled on while working on the video.
Maybe I wouldn’t go home . . . That random thought came careening out of nowhere.
Or maybe it hadn’t. Because David stood, reached down and asked, “May I have this dance?”
My squishy heart melted a little while my woozy brain said, “Yes.”
It turned out, David was a hell of a dancer. And even though Drew couldn’t convince him to get up and do the two step or participate in the line dancing before, when David did ask me to slow dance I never wanted the last song of the night to end.
I wasn’t going to recover easily from this. I knew that for sure.
Being in his arms was like a drug.
No, actually, more like a hot blanket that just came out of the dryer that I could wrap around me and feel completely content within.
These were dangerous thoughts. Very, very dangerous. Because he was going to be getting in his good old boy pick-up truck and heading back to Texas eventually. Probably sooner rather than later.
Where would that leave me?
Here. Alone. Again.
But when his gaze dropped to my lips I wasn’t sure I cared.
Then he dipped his head, his lips so close to mine it felt only natural to stand on my tiptoes and press my mouth against his.
We stopped moving to the music, all attention captured by the place where our lips joined.
The song ended but I didn’t care. I wasn’t there for the dancing anymore.
A gentle clearing of a throat nearby was the only thing that had David lifting his head and breaking that magical kiss.
I swiveled my gaze to see Lucy and Drew grinning next to us. I guess they’d been dancing too. I hadn’t noticed.
Holy heck. If one kiss made me this brain dead, what would full-blown sex with David Strickland do to me?
All I knew was that I wanted to find out.