Chapter Seven
Layla was at her production team meeting at the hotel in Cheyenne, covering all the details for a few upcoming weeks’ worth of episodes.
Todd said, “We have the photo layout of the kitchen—all an inside operation. Here’s how we want to do the blocking.” He laid out the pictorial spread. “Audio and lighting are configured. We just need to confirm it all works in reality. As usual.”
That translated to staging at the actual site. They wrapped up the meeting and hit the road. While the crew did their orchestrating and testing, Layla chatted with contestant Willet Hayes.
“We have your menus, but I’ll also ask you to describe your recipes and ingredients as you’re bringing the food together,” she explained. “You’ll have forty-five minutes to serve your cowboys and the judges. The last fifteen minutes of the show will be devoted to comments by the judges. They’ll rate your offerings and lock your scores in your individual vault. After we cut, I’ll do more interviewing to get your comments and others’ as well. Those are testimonials that will be included in edited snippets of the episodes, for promotional purposes, and to fill in any gaps when the recorded version is uploaded.”
“Contract says I can start meat beforehand, if I’m smokin’.”
“Yes,” she said. “And you’ll want to make as big a splash as possible with your debut course.”
“Then I’m ready to go when y’all are.”
“Fantastic. We’ll finish up on our end and start in about a half hour.”
Willet rubbed his hands together. “I’m shootin’ for the stars here.”
She smiled. “That’s the perfect attitude.”
She was about to continue, but Brodi appeared at her side and said, “You have a call you want to take.”
“Oh-kay.” She narrowed her eyes at Brodi’s cryptic delivery. She always told Layla up front who was on the line. Layla turned back to Willet. “If you have any additional questions, direct them to Brodi. And good luck with the competition.”
Layla took her phone from Brodi and stepped away.
“This is Layla,” she said.
“This is Avery,” he replied.
She laughed. “I’m surprised.”
“No, you’re not. You knew I’d say yes.”
Excitement shimmied through her. “I knew you’d say yes.”
“We can accommodate the filming next week.”
She resisted the urge to break into a happy dance.
“I’ll have Brodi get the legal docs to you, and then marketing will send some graphics your way to approve. Add a comment or two for us to personalize them. Take some selfies or have someone else photograph you so we have current pics. They don’t have to be professional, or studio-type images. In fact, we prefer it if you’re just you in your natural element. No Photoshopping or poses that aren’t suitable for you.”
“Easy enough.”
“For you, certainly. You’re incredibly photogenic, Avery.” And she had to keep herself from fanning her face as heat burst on her cheeks.
She really wasn’t thinking of her research; she was envisioning him yanking apart the snaps on his shirt and revealing his sculpted chest and ripped abs.
She bit back a sigh. Tried to compose herself. Difficult though that was with the sexy images flitting through her mind.
This didn’t work in her favor, because next Wednesday she’d be up close and personal with him again. And having to pretend he didn’t melt her into her cowgirl boots.
Forcing herself to focus on business, she told him, “Check out our past eps if you can find some time. Our live streams are meant to appease our audience, yes. But we also encourage contestants to view recorded versions in order to get a feel for the format. Our first few competitors for this particular season are veteran reality TV show participants who were willing to set the bar. This provides other challengers the chance to strategize.”
“Gotcha.”
“Listen, I have to go so that I can get my thoughts all organized around today’s ep. Champion grill master smoking bison brisket.”
“Bison. No shit? That’s a clever undertaking. I’m sure he’ll be attuned to developing the smoke ring.”
“A certain aesthetic the judges will evaluate,” she said.
“Doesn’t add flavor or tenderness, though; that’s key. What else does he have going on?”
“Scalloped corn, baked beans, and potatoes au gratin.”
“Complementary sides, though a little bland. Regardless, I’ve got my work cut out for me. You get to yours, darlin’. I’ll have Ale hook me up with his tablet so I can watch.”
“I’m so glad you decided on this, Avery!”
He laughed. “Hard to pass up. And as an added bonus, I get you at the ranch for a few more days.”
“Cherry on top of the sundae. I’m off.”
She disconnected before she squealed with delight over this coup. Or moaned in ecstasy over thoughts of more time with the sexy cowboy.
“All’s well?” Brodi asked as she swooped in to snatch Layla’s cell from her and hold it while Layla hosted the show.
“You giving him my number before I did was crafty of you.”
Brodi shrugged with nonchalance. “Just facilitatin’ the process.”
“Sure. I told you I was taking the competition aspect in strides. So what was it you were facilitatin’, exactly?”
Brodi waved a dismissive hand in the air. “You know it doesn’t hurt to have a fairy godmother. You could use one.”
They stared at each other.
Brodi’s brow crooked.
Layla snickered. “Jesus. I’d say you’re too intrusive, but last night’s pillow talk with the man was hot as hell. He has a to-die-for bedroom voice, and he doesn’t shy away from the juicy language.”
“Somehow, I sensed that about him.” Brodi smiled. “And look at you, all glowing like you just spent a week at the spa.”
“I’m only glowing because we have a phenomenal lineup for this cook-off. And now ... we need to get to it.”
Layla left Brodi and approached Todd. “We have our top ten. Moved Avery into the slot we wanted him in—next week. His pit work will be a great interruption from grills and traditional smokers, and he also has an exquisite setup. Marketing will go nuts over him. So will the viewers.”
Todd eyed her curiously. “And you?”
“What about me?” She feigned ignorance.
“Oh, please,” he scoffed. “I’ve known you forever. This is the first time I’ve seen you blush—over a phone call.”
“To be fair,” she said, “he does have a whiskey-burn intonation that curls toes.”
“Uh-huh. Yours, presumably?”
She shrugged and asked, “Is that an issue?”
“You have no voting authority, and you don’t interact with the judges beyond interviewing them during the samplings. They don’t even stay at the same hotels we book for you and the crew. I don’t expect you to be celibate, Layla. Especially not with that face.”
“You do realize that, as a rule, I don’t think about this face.”
“You’re not the one staring at it. I still do a double take from time to time.”
“You got me there.” She confessed, “I pass a reflective surface and startle myself. Lots of complications when you become someone else. Figuring out your new identity is one of them. Even five years later.”
He twined his fingers with hers, bent his head, and whispered, “What that asshole did to you was insidious. That you survived is unfathomable. But the way you rose from the ashes, Tess ... that’s incomparable.”
Her eyes glistened.
He added, “I’d win awards if I did a documentary on you. That’s not how I roll, though. You want privacy when it comes to your background. I’m glad I can give it to you.”
“Thank you. You’ve helped to save my life.”
“You did that on your own, sweetheart.”
“No. There was someone else who rescued me—my plastic surgeon.” She swallowed a lump of emotion. “But I can’t exist without having you on my side, letting me do what’s most important to me, what I’ve always wanted but had door after door slammed in my ... well.” She sighed. “You know I wanted to be a broadcaster. You made that dream come true.”
The ugly duckling syndrome was a painful one. The twist in her case had been excruciating.
But this time around, Layla had relied on her gut instincts. She hadn’t ignored her good judgment. And continued to push forward because of it.
Todd told her, “I respect you. Don’t think I’m gonna hold you back in any way. You keep evolving. It’s a beautiful thing to witness.”
He kissed her cheek. Just before a drop hit it.
Todd was quick to whisk the tear away.
She’d never imagined having faith in any man other than her daddy after she’d been so viciously attacked that she’d required extensive surgery to repair the damage. Yet some men came shining through.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
“Get ready for the show.” He grinned. “Layla.”
“Right.” She let out a long breath. “Layla.” She inhaled more deeply. Nodded. Exhaled. And said, “I’m ready.”
She checked her makeup as the crew moved into place. Dabbed on extra lip gloss. Ran a brush through her straight hair.
Maybe someday she’d have her own stylist on set. For now ... she did her best. Thought of Avery joining the lineup. And smiled with excitement.
“That’s the exuberance that brings in the crowd,” Brodi said. “Let’s rock this show!”
“Yowza, that’s an opponent to fear.” Jillian grimaced.
Avery sat back in his chair in the living room of the main house and winced.
Ale had done him a solid by tuning him into Light Your Fire and mirroring it from his tablet to the large flat-screen mounted over one of the fireplaces. Showing Avery how to do it in the process.
Willet Hayes had slayed his bison.
Avery slid a glance toward Jack. Who shrugged. And said, “Impressive, absolutely. But turducken in a trench? Come on, Avery. A chicken wrapped in a duck wrapped in a turkey, stuffed with dressing, and smoked till the skin’s golden brown and the meat falls off the bone with juices running? You’ve mastered that before, and you will again.”
“My sides are gonna be crucial.”
“Jillian’s specialty,” Chance said. “Consult her.”
“I think he’s too busy drooling over Layla,” Jillian commented. “My goodness, Avery, she has enough charisma to choke a cow.” Her eyes narrowed. She cringed. And added, “That was the weirdest thing to slip from my mouth. Where in the world did I hear that?”
Avery laughed, then told her, “Trust me, cowboy sayings creep up on you at the darnedest times. Not a one of ’em makes a lick of sense.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, starchy and light flavorings will pair well with your poultry,” she assured him. “Add cranberries to your stuffing for an extra zap of flavor.”
“Good call.” Avery contemplated this for a moment, then made his selections. “Balsamic zoodle sauté with mushrooms, roasted sweet potato fingerlings, truffle parsnip puree, and maple-bacon brussels sprouts.”
“That would go fantastically with riesling,” Jillian said.
“Shoot.” Wyatt sighed. “It’s only the beginning of June. We won’t get a meal like this till Thanksgiving.”
Jack glared at her.
“Just sayin’,” she retorted. “Name a time ever that you’ve made us turducken?”
Mateo gestured to both of them and said, “You two aren’t helping me get my point across with the boys.”
Both of his sons looked perplexed. Innocent until proven guilty.
Avery said, “They just tease, Mateo. You’ve got nothing to worry about with them. If only we could replicate them, none of us child-free peeps would be terrified about what to expect if we reproduced.” He gave a low chortle.
No one joined in.
Avery’s jaw clenched as he realized what he’d just said.
Jack told him, “Those sayings? Let ’em go. Because apples fell so fucking far from the tree with you and Chance, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Jack,” Wyatt admonished. Not about the sentiment, just about the swear word.
“I apologize for that,” he said to Hunt and Ale. To Avery and Chance, he reiterated, “Nothing to worry about. Avery, you’re just riled up because someone’s shining a spotlight on you, and you’re concerned it’ll bring your dad back into the picture.”
“Jack.” This from Brett. She gasped. Then she slid her gaze toward Avery. Tears pooled in her eyes as she told him, “That’s not for you to be upset over. He did what he did. It’s not a reflection on you or Chance.”
“I did say that,” Chance offered. “But I think there’s a deeper issue here. To be discussed elsewhere and not interfere with the boys’ gaming time.”
Avery nodded. “We’re done with Light Your Fire. Ale, you and Hunt set yourselves up.”
Wyatt and Brett collected the coffee tray and the dessert plates, and Avery gathered a few empty wineglasses, following them into the kitchen.
The first thing Brett said when the three of them were alone was, “If you’re anxious about genetics, Avery, you can wipe that from your mind. Reeds aren’t violent types.”
“Caleb Reed is,” he countered.
“That’s a bit beyond my reasoning, I won’t lie,” his aunt said. “But as a whole ... it’s not hereditary. Not something you or Chance exhibit or should be concerned about.”
“But could it show up in our kids?” he solemnly asked.
Brett stepped toward him and gently cupped his chin. “I’ve known you your entire life. The only thing I have to say about you shying away from having children is, don’t do it out of fear of a self-perceived, inherited disposition.”
“What about abandonment?” Wyatt quietly asked. “His mama did walk away in broad daylight, not ever looking back.”
Avery felt the knife twist. Not that that was Wyatt’s intent. She had a point to make as well, another query as to why neither Avery nor Chance were the least bit interested in wives and their own families.
Brett dropped her hand. Shook her head. More tears filled her eyes.
She told Avery, “Ruby didn’t abandon you and your brother, per se. She left because she thought everything she did was the wrong thing and that she irritated your father with every breath she took. She hoped not being around would calm him down a bit. For yours and for Chance’s sake.”
“He was the exact same way on the circuit,” Avery said. “Nothing calmed him down—not for long.”
“She didn’t know that,” Brett informed him. “The trophies and the prize money appeased him, and that was all she really saw.”
“They weren’t easily won with him around.”
“That she didn’t see.”
Avery’s head dropped. He stared at the floor for a few moments. Tried to get his bearings.
Then he glanced up at his aunt and told her, “There is a very lovely lady who I think had her own volatile past. I won’t subject her to mine.”
He started to walk away.
“Avery, wait.” It was Wyatt who called out to him, catching him in the hallway. She placed her hand on his arm and said, “As much as you want to shield someone from the world, you can’t. Jack wasn’t able to do it with Jillian all those years ago. He had to come back home after that first year at SPU. She moved on. Then she was trapped in a terrifying situation. Literally. Now they’re—”
“You really can’t compare us, Wyatt, much as I appreciate you trying to do so,” he offered. “Jillian will find serenity and security on this ranch. Layla Jenson will not. Her life’s meant to be elsewhere.”
The more he said it, the more he’d get it through his thick skull.
Avery spent the next several days strategizing his menus for the show.
Early Monday evening, Layla video called him. Because he could do that now.
“Landed safely late last night,” she said.
“Thanks for texting me and letting me know.”
“Thanks for wanting to know.”
They were both quiet for a few moments. Then she said, “Got my errands taken care of today, packed a new suitcase, and am headed toward the hotel in Serrano soon.”
It was five o’clock, and Avery was folding foil packets for grilling—white fish and veggies in a sauce of garlic, lemon, butter, and red pepper flakes. He had his phone propped on the table, with some sort of pop-up kickstand thingy Ale had mounted to the casing. Quite helpful.
“Well, with that drive, you’ll miss dinner here, darlin’. But I can always make you something special.”
He mentally smacked his palm to his forehead as the words jumped from his tongue, without his brain having a say in the matter.
For fuck’s sake, he’d resigned himself to this not being a viable, sustainable relationship. He’d stated the inevitable outcome when he’d been in Jack’s office. His fate had been further sealed when Jack had admitted he hadn’t believed Jillian would come back to him after she’d left the ranch.
That revelation had rocked Avery.
Deep down, he’d been convinced that Jack hadn’t lost all faith when Jillian returned to Seattle. Then again, the sight of him for weeks after she’d left had proved he held no hope for a third chance at romance between them.
Admittedly, it’d been difficult for anyone else to reconcile in their minds that something wouldn’t trigger another reunion for the star-crossed lovers. But it didn’t happen.
And then it did.
And maybe that was the crux of Avery’s problem. He wanted to think miracles occurred and stars aligned, not only for random, fleeting moments, but for the long haul. He’d not wanted to accept that Jack and Jillian were over, even though that was exactly the way that hand had been playing out at the time. Then lightning had struck and bam! They were together again. Getting married. Having a baby.
Avery couldn’t be happier for them.
Unfortunately, it didn’t rally any hope that kismet would favor him and Layla.
She could be here for a bit of time. But it’d only be temporary. She clearly had wanderlust running through her veins.
She seemed to be contemplating something similar, as she paused as well. Like ... was this a wise thing for them to do?
But then she said, “I don’t mean to be any trouble.”
He almost snickered at that sentiment. She had been even before Chance had spelled it out.
“Honey, I’d be disappointed if you were in town and not wanting to see me.”
Way to shoot your own foot, Pitty.
What is wrong with you, man?
Oh. Right. He was falling in love.
“I’ll let Brodi check me in on my phone,” Layla said, “and I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Perhaps the vid calling was a mistake because it obviously skewed his judgment whenever he saw those stunning tiger eyes.
Regardless of the repercussions swirling in his mind, he asked, “You know the way, or should I send someone for you?”
“I hit that long patch of road and then look for those TRIPLE R gates leading to your part of paradise.”
He gave her the gate code. And added, “I’ll leave the door unlocked. Come on in.”
“See you soon, cowboy.” She dropped off.
“Got yourself a hot date?” Chance asked with a grin.
“I just can’t say no to one more night with that woman.”
“Seems you’ll likely get six of them while she’s filming here.”
“Could be. Though that’ll only make her hopping on a plane on Sunday to wherever the hell she’s going next all the more agonizing.”
“You are turnin’ into a glutton for punishment, bro. I’m a little worried.”
“Be a lot worried,” Avery told him. “I sense this will all blow up spectacularly in my face.”
Chance’s gaze narrowed. “You’re willing to take that risk?”
“You heard me invite her to the ranch, didn’t you? When I’ve contended all along it’s a mistake.”
“Well, who knows?” Chance clasped his shoulder. “Maybe it’ll be your best mistake.”
“Go take a shower. You smell like a stall that hasn’t been mucked out. I’ve got work to do here.”
“I’ll be back for supper.” Chance chuckled as he ambled off, no doubt comically mourning Avery’s imminent romantic demise. Which he was bringing upon himself.
He completed the packets and got them on the grates while Ritchie set up the buffet table.
Following the fluid execution of the cowboys’ meal—thank God one thing in his life was smooth sailing—Avery went to the house to clean himself up and change into a tank top with drawstring pants before he collected wildflowers, putting them in whiskey glasses scattered about the house.
Then he crafted appetizers and a meat and cheese board. He selected a cabernet franc he was fond of. Turned on the Bluetooth speakers and a country western playlist that Ale had downloaded for him. Lit wood fires in the two downstairs hearths for ambience.
Then he just sort of ... waited it out.
Fighting a grin.
Knowing that all the tumult was warranted and yet ... letting it fall by the wayside as he thought of Layla on her way to him.