Chapter 34
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
TWO WEEKS LATER
“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” Jack narrows his eyes while a cloud of activity buzzes in the studio of the local Flagstaff news station. I chew my lip as I keep my eye on the make-up artist who just dusted our faces with powder and tried to apply the wrong shade of pink to my lips.
“I never thought about this being a problem, but having a ridiculously hot boyfriend brings out a lot of new feelings for me.”
“Good feelings?” Jack croons in his gravelly voice while the back of his finger trails a slow path down my cheek.
“Stabby feelings.”
He follows my gaze to the makeup artist sending him bedroom eyes.
Yup. Very stabby feelings.
“Y’all are on in five.” Cassy, the assistant with a microphone headset, appears, alerting us that it’s nearly time for our interview on the morning segment.
“You ready to charm the whole of Flagstaff?” Jack continues, attempting to draw my attention away from the woman risking her life to flirt with my man.
“Nobody will be listening to me, Officer Muscles.” I poke his bicep, a small thrill filling me.
They’re very nice muscles. “And I still think a radio or written interview would’ve been good enough.
I’m not thrilled about being in front of the camera.
I just wanna tell the production assistant to avoid tiny patterns in her clothes.
Her features are way too large for them.
And then I wanna sit her in a chair and help her find her colors and show her the best way to style her curves. ”
“You’ll have Reggie and Clara eating out the palm of your hand and signing up for a color analysis before you’re done.”
“Reggie is a stubborn dandy and won’t change for anyone,” I say with a laugh, folding my arms. If Flagstaff’s local legend and mustachioed news anchor ever strays from his signature burnt orange button-up and bowtie, I’ll flat-out faint.
Clara might be more open to suggestions, if she’s able to peel her eyes away from Jack, that is.
She squeezed his arm a little too tightly for my liking as we were introduced.
The way he flinched at the contact sent Clara a very clear back away message, though.
Hopefully, she keeps her hands to herself.
Post-Canyon Willow has claws.
“Reggie will be half in love with you within the first ten minutes, and then I’ll feel stabby,” Jack says with a lift of one side of his mouth.
“We’re here to explain my exoneration from murder charges, not implicate ourselves in another one,” I retort.
“But we’re not here for that, we’re here for you to show the world the beautiful way you see things and how your special talent helped you solve a major crime.”
“Sure we are.” I smile softly, waiting to wake up from this dream where my passion is something I get to pursue without the guilt and shame of all my past failures.
Mom and Dad were shocked when Jack and I sat down with them after I walked into their house hand-in-hand with this big fella in front of me. But I couldn’t have walked in so confidently without him by my side.
Okay, I could have, but he gave me the courage I needed to do it with honesty and humility.
Mom cried because of everything I’d felt I had to hide, and Dad went white when he heard about the shooting.
Once they’d finally listened to me long enough to understand my passion for style and color, and they saw what I’d done on social media, they didn’t need any more convincing that I was making the right choice.
Jack held my hand the whole time, answering their questions about the hike.
The news story hit the following day, and my fifteen minutes of fame began.
I’m not stupid—I’m using it to my advantage, growing my social media accounts and sharing my platform with a wider reach of people while I can.
“You’re up,” Cassy interrupts my thoughts and guides us to a pair of cushy bucket seats. “Reggie will introduce you, as we rehearsed.”
“What are we doing after this?” I lean over, whispering to Jack.
“You’ve kept me busy all week. I need to do the yard work I’ve been neglecting. Aren’t you meeting with Hayley?”
The makeup artist walks up and attempts another powdering, which we definitely do not need. I may growl at her when she leans toward Jack in an attempt to flaunt the view of her low-cut shirt in his face.
Her cheeks flush red, and she scurries away while someone else clips tiny mics to our shirts, the lights glaring and reflecting off the shiny floors.
“Hayley had to cancel. And nobody forced you to binge all sixteen episodes of Crash Landing On You. If I remember correctly, you’re the one who kept saying just one more episode.”
“I had to know how it ended.” He shrugs, as if he watched it by accident instead of making popcorn and being adorably vocal about every cliffhanger of my favorite k-drama.
“Then I plan to float in the pool and watch you get sweaty while you do yard work,” I declare, folding my hands in my lap and smiling at the cameraman in front of me. “But I have a surprise for you at my place first.”
He grins that secretive little grin, the barest hint of a curl to his mouth, but his eyes twinkle before returning to the hustle in the room.
Lights that are bright enough to light up a stadium are pointed at us, and Reggie and Clara glide in, beaming their white smiles and rivaling the studio lights.
As exciting as this is, I’m still coming off the adrenaline of last week.
Jack strongly suggested I talk to a therapist after everything that happened.
I brushed it off at first, but when I woke up the first night alone in my apartment and had to call Jack after a panic attack, it was clear I needed some help to process the trauma I had yet to acknowledge.
But my first session with the therapist Jack recommended went well, and I’m already scheduled for weekly sessions with her for the next few months.
The interview begins in a whirlwind of questions, forcing me to relive the drama of our hike, which I’m thankfully able to talk about much more calmly since that first therapy session. Our account elicits numerous gasps and bicep ogling from Clara when it gets to the part about Jack saving the day.
“Can you tell us how you tied up this case?” Clara smiles encouragingly. “You’ve had quite a bit of feedback, and I’m sure people would be inspired by your story of a civilian using her skills to help.”
I snort a laugh. “I don’t know how helpful I actually was.”
“Willow’s insights were instrumental in figuring out who was behind everything before the perpetrators could escape,” Jack interrupts me to say, and Clara fans her face, turning a swoony expression toward me.
“Walk us through it, Willow,” Reggie prompts. “How’d you figure out who the bad guys were?”
“It really wasn’t anything special. I have a particular skill for talking my way out of problems, and that, combined with some observation skills, led me to figure out that Bonnie was the mastermind behind everything.
It was her hair color that tipped me off.
When Jerrica was released earlier, I noticed she seemed a little smug.
And after I saw Bonnie again, her red hair, the same shade Jerrica tried to cover up, just screamed at me.
It’s not a natural tone you see very often.
And then their similar features all became so clear.
By then, the pieces of the story began to fall into place, and I knew Bonnie had hired Brandon and Chad to transport the smuggled goods for her and called in Jerrica to keep an eye on them once she realized she didn’t trust them.
When Brandon realized there was more at stake than just a spearhead, he got greedy, and the plan unravelled. ”
Reggie’s mustache straightens as he talks about the bravery Jack and I showed, and a smiling production assistant walks in with the medal the Grand Canyon Police Department awarded me two days ago, modeling it as if it were a game show prize.
I smile to myself, remembering how officers Owen and Mary had been respectively grouchy and delighted to present the award themselves.
“You’ve told us about all the trophies your family has accrued. I bet this will be proudly on display alongside them, won’t it, Willow?” Reggie nods at the shiny silver medal. The irony and humor of the whole thing makes my nostrils flare as I stifle a laugh and force myself to nod in agreement.
I turn to the camera, a cheeky edge to my voice. “How do you think this’ll look beside your little horse trophies, Em?”
Reggie chuckles like he’s sharing my inside joke before asking the next question. “Is there anything you wish you would have done differently in all of this, Willow?”
I take a second to muse over the question before smiling and giving him a small shake of my head.
“I wouldn’t do anything differently. Every challenge allowed me to grow.
Do I wish someone hadn’t died? Of course, but that was out of my control.
But every choice helped me learn something about myself, and it also brought me closer to this guy.
” I wink, hooking a thumb toward Jack, whose ears turn adorable red.
Clara expertly plugs my social media accounts before I convince Reggie to let me do a color analysis on him. He’s almost ready to trim his mustache and ditch the bowties by the time I’m done.
“Jack, thank you for coming on our show. We’ll have you back any time,” Clara giggles, fanning her face with her talking cards. “And Willow, you’re just the sweetest thing, I wanna put you in a box and take you home with me.”
“If the box is a spring color, sign me up.” I grin.
As soon as the cameras cut for a commercial break, we’re whisked off the studio floor just as fast as we were ushered on, and I’m ready to put on my bikini and stare at the things Jack’s muscles can do.
But first, there’s something I’ve been dying to figure out.
“Notice how this green sits on you? We see the color before we see you.” I meet Jack’s eyes in the mirror in front of us, one hand on his shoulder and my head tilted slightly to the side.
He’s facing the window in the spare bedroom that I’ve converted into my consultation room, fulfilling a fantasy I’ve had since I first laid eyes on this man.
I pull the bright green swatch away, revealing a deep, olive green beneath. “Now this green…so much better,” I tell him, and my cheeks lift in a smile.
But when I glance at his reflection, I see that he’s not watching himself at all. Instead, he’s watching me with a sexy tilt to his lips.
“You’re supposed to be looking at yourself,” I chide.
He doesn’t break eye contact. Tension sparkles as he devours me with his heated gaze.
Gosh, I never knew draping my boyfriend and the mirror-based eye contact it involved would feel so intimate.
But I’m about ready to climb into his lap for a thorough makeout if he doesn’t stop looking at me like that.
I clear my throat, straightening my shoulders in an attempt to get back to some form of professionalism.
Backtracking, I return the spring green drape across his chest. “Look at this one again,” I wait a few seconds until his eyes obey, then I pull it off, revealing the autumn hue, “compared to this one. Tell me what you see.”
His eyes twinkle, but he does as I ask. “The other one was too…loud?” he offers hesitantly, like he’s not sure if it’s the right answer.
“Exactly. But with this one,” I straighten the olive green over him, “there’s harmony. Your eyes look brighter, and we see more color in your lips.”
“Really?” he asks with that flirty tone.
I swallow, unable to look away from his mouth. “Yup.”
Darn it. Focus, Willow! You’re a professional.
“So I’m an Autumn?”
“A deep Autumn, yes.”
I knew it. I mean, I figured he was an Autumn from the beginning, but it’s so satisfying to confirm my suspicions.
The man looks good in deep Autumns. I turn, picking up the color I’ve been desperate to see draped on him.
When I find the correct swatch, I lay it over the olive green, my heart rate picking up ever so slightly.
It’s a deep sangria red, darker than rust with a richness that tantalizingly complements his features.
“If you don’t stop looking at me like that, Lo, I’m going to kiss you very soon.”
I don’t stop looking at him. I can’t. He’s just too gorgeous, and I’m in my happy place, doing what I love with the man I love.
I’ll put it politely and tell you that he followed through on his words.