Chapter 30
MIRANDA
Miranda couldn’t get over the fact that Jim loved Dogfight.
What were the odds they would both enjoy the same semi-obscure Broadway show?
Although it did have a cult-like following.
Could they have both been at the same show?
What if their paths had crossed before? Unlikely, and yet they had so many points of connection.
He felt like an old friend, someone she had known for a lifetime.
Or was she getting swept off her feet by the magic of it all?
It was impossible to deny how romantic the evening was with the fields dripping in blushing orange and purple light as the moon began to rise.
Intoxicating smells of grilled meats and savory soup wafted through the air as the band played low behind them.
The scent of fall mingled with the band’s sweet sounds and happy laughter.
The sinking sun cast a rusty tone over the grounds, and the nightly breeze blew in off the ocean, rustling the leaves in the trees like they were waving goodnight.
No, this was definitely romantic.
But there was also no denying the chemistry she felt. It was palpable. Electric. Like if she reached out and touched him, their skin might spark.
And this is his job, Miranda.
She shook her shoulders, trying to shake away images of being wrapped up in his arms or the way his scruffy beard might feel against her cheek.
Plus, there was the issue from earlier. She believed him when he said he hadn’t intended for the video to go viral or to put Pete in the middle of it, but she did need to remember why he and Shelby were here.
“Wine?” Jim asked, oblivious to her internal turmoil, as he held a bottle of red.
“Please.” Miranda handed him her glass and let her gaze travel around the table.
Pete and Lacy were seated next to one another.
Lacy was snapping pictures of them at a frantic pace.
She recognized Pete’s tic—the way he twisted his hair tightly around his index finger—a sure sign he wasn’t comfortable.
Shelby didn’t look very pleased either. She used a portable tripod to position her phone, frowning slightly as she leaned in to give Pete a note.
Miranda felt a flutter of nerves, this time not because of Jim.
Pete was a good sport, but she’d unintentionally forced him into a date with a stranger.
It had to be awkward with Shelby filming and listening in to their every word, and she still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with her son.
Did he actually want to do this? It was so out of character for him.
But he’s a grown man, Miranda.
He can make his own choices.
She sighed as she stole another quick look.
Was Shelby giving him feedback on the spot in terms of what to say? Or was she whispering specific talking points into his ear for him to regurgitate back to Lacy?
Jim offered her the wine and passed a plate of short rib bites glazed in honey, served with crispy shallots, sesame seeds, and spicy aioli. “If these are indicative of the meal that’s to come, I think we’re in good hands tonight.”
Miranda helped herself to two bite-sized pieces of the tender ribs.
“Make room because there is a gluttony of deliciousness coming our way.” Jim read the tasting menu as if he were narrating a steamy romance novel.
“For your tasting pleasure, Madame, we have hushpuppies made by hand with corn straight from the farm. These will be served with a maple butter and pumpkin crema. Don’t worry about getting your greens, as we’ll be delighted with Brussels sprouts seared with apple butter and sriracha and roasted cauliflower with garlic and pistachios.
” He paused, peering up at her over the edge of the menu. “Hungry yet?”
Miranda giggled. “I don’t think we’ll need dinner. Those are just the starters.”
“Well, we have a long night ahead of us.” Jim stretched, letting his arm hang around the back of Miranda’s chair.
“Yeah, about that. What do you want me to do?” She wanted to believe that he was talking about enjoying a leisurely dinner together, but he was probably trying to gently remind her that she had a job to do tonight.
Much to her disappointment, Jim removed his arm from the back of the chair and sat up taller. “I have an idea. What menu item are you most excited to try?”
“Oooh, all of them?” Miranda took a hushpuppy from the platter being passed around and scooped the maple butter and pumpkin crema onto her plate.
“Me too.” Jim waited for Miranda to pass the platter the other direction and handed her the Brussels sprouts. “But is there one that stands out? What would you recommend to your best friend, for example?”
“I have to say the hushpuppies.” Miranda was seriously tempted to stab one of the fried corn cakes with her fork and dive in.
“Great. We’ll focus on that. Only we won’t focus on that.”
“I’m not sure I follow.” Miranda scooped Brussels sprouts and roasted cauliflower onto her plate. She was going to need to pace herself. The next course promised even more delectable options, like a wild mushroom ravioli and horseradish-encrusted salmon.
“Here’s an insider trick about engagement,” Jim said, shifting his body toward her.
Their knees touched briefly, sending another round of shivers down Miranda’s arms. “Sometimes you need to use a bit of misdirection to, hmm, how shall I put it?” He paused, pressing his finger to his chin pensively.
“Encourage?” He frowned, trying to find the right word.
“Yeah, let’s say encourage people to engage with your content.
Think of it like a magician using sleight of hand to perform a trick. ”
“I’m still not following.”
“Sometimes if we focus on what’s not in the picture, that naturally lends itself to more eyes on a post.”
Miranda was entirely confused.
Jim must have picked up on that because he turned her plate at an angle, moved a bouquet of flowers closer, and pointed to her wine. “Go ahead and hold your glass like you’re about to give a toast.”
“Like this?” Miranda raised her glass. The deep red wine matched the fiery sunset.
Jim touched her wrist, moving her arm right above her plate. “Just like that. Hold it there for a minute. Let me get a couple of quick shots.”
Miranda felt slightly silly, but she posed like a professional hand model until Jim got the photo he wanted.
“Now, tell me about the hushpuppies.” He opened a note on his phone and typed with his thumbs. “We’ve got the description from the menu. I’m adding that to the post now, but tell me in your own words, why hushpuppies?”
“Why hushpuppies?” Miranda had never given much thought to the finger food.
“Uh, well, they’re a delight for the eyes, aren’t they?
That golden, crisp crust, the sweet corn that was probably picked this morning, fried with cheddar, scallions, and peppers.
I’ve never had a hushpuppy with maple butter and pumpkin crema, but I can tell you my mouth is absolutely watering right now. ”
“You’re a pro. That’s it. We’ve got it.” Jim finished typing and cropped one of the photos. He showed Miranda the finished post. “How does this sound?”
She scanned the text. He’d basically written her description verbatim. “It’s great, but the hushpuppies aren’t in the picture. They’re cropped out.”
“Exactly.” Jim tapped the tip of his nose twice.
“You’ve hit the nail on the head. Misdirection.
Sleight of hand. The caption is gushing about these beautiful, savory hushpuppies, and yet they are nowhere to be found in the picture.
In this business, that translates into one thing—engagement.
” He paused and met her eyes. “As we discussed, though, you get the final word. Are you okay with this? Does it feel authentic? Please, say if it doesn’t work for you.
I can make any tweaks you want, or we can scrap it. ”
“No, no. It’s perfect.” Miranda laughed.
Her tone was light and silky. “That’s seriously a picture I would take.
I probably have a dozen or so photos like that saved on my phone.
I’ll start to take a picture of something and then get caught up in a conversation.
” She shot him a thumbs-up. “Yeah, it’s good. ”
“Alright. Let’s do it.” He clicked the post button. “Now we sit back, enjoy our appetizers, and wait for the comments to roll in. Like I said, magic.”