Chapter Fifteen
Layla drove into town in the morning, at a respectable hour.
She met up with Todd and Brodi for brunch at the hotel.
“Is your virtue still intact where the sexy cousin who owns the cantina is concerned?” Layla asked her best friend.
Todd gagged on his sip of cappuccino.
Brodi gave an exasperated look. And said, “If you think I grew social butterfly wings overnight, think again. Girl, that good-lookin’ cowboy gave me one songful worth of twirls around the dance floor after you vacated, and I was nothing more than putty in his hands.” Her eh emoji face took over. “What am I to do with that?”
“Meaning you ditched him the first chance you got,” Layla commented.
“Left Todd at the table and took the rental car back here.”
“Yeah, thanks for that,” Todd lamented. “Jack had to drop me off.”
“Thought you were smitten by Riley Reed,” Brodi replied in between bites of her bagel, smothered with strawberry cream cheese. “Didn’t want to rush you off or anything.”
Now Layla nearly spit out her latte. She covered her mouth for a second, composed herself, and demanded, “What’s this?”
“Mm-hmm,” Brodi confirmed. “That woman had him all twisted in knots.”
“Gimme a break!” he proclaimed. Displaying much more emotion than normal. “She’s jailbait for God’s sake!”
“She’s twenty-five!” Layla and Brodi said in unison.
“Six years younger than me. So ... totally off limits,” he averred. And sipped. Then added, “What on earth would I do with a tornado in a trailer park anyway?” He pointed a finger at Brodi and said, “I can barely control you.”
“Some women aren’t meant to be controlled,” she lobbed back.
“Some women shouldn’t be so exuberant that they make men crazed in the head,” he countered.
Layla finally enjoyed more of her latte. Then ventured, “Is there something happening here that I should know about?” She flitted a finger between her executive producer and her assistant.
“He’s. My. Boss. Said it once. Said it twice. Will keep on sayin’ it.” Brodi was done with her bagel and set her napkin next to her plate. She pushed back her chair. “I have emails to answer, and you two have shit to talk about.” She stood, grabbed her purse, and marched off.
Layla’s gaze drifted to Todd.
He draped an arm over the top of his chair. Waved a dismissive hand. And said, “I might have a thing for redheads.”
“That one in particular?” Layla prodded.
“She gets under my skin. All her thoughts and ideas—and the way she’s a workaholic, like me. Brodi’s mind never shuts down. I dig that.”
“She’s also very pretty.”
“Very.”
“Hmm.”
“Yeah. Hmm.”
“Okay, then,” Layla said. “Perhaps we ought to have that production meeting now.”
“You still wanna get your travel on?”
“You know I do. We’ve got Tulsa, Whitefish, and that ranch outside of St. Louis on our agenda.”
“We’ve got more than that going on.” He reached into the stylish brown leather backpack he’d slung over one side of his wooden armchair and extracted a file folder that he dropped onto the table between them. He flipped open the cover and said, “Brodi compiled all the latest analytics on the show—your dark horse is racing toward the finish line like nothing we’ve seen before.”
She sifted through the top sheets, marveling at the numbers she reviewed.
“There’s more, Layla. Keep digging. We’ve got sponsors coming out of our collective ass. They want ad time galore. And if you delve deeper, you’ll get to the companies that are seeking you out to endorse their products. Totally running the gamut. Clothes, boots, and hats. Cookware and all things barbecue—like grilling utensils, charcoal, and hell ... even grills.” He gave a half snort.
She set aside the pages and speared him with a look. “These sponsorships give us our sixth season.”
“Seventh, eighth, ninth ... whatever you want, Layla.” His gaze didn’t waver. “And those endorsement deals? They’ll pay the remainder of your debt and set you up for life.”
They continued to stare at each other.
Layla’s mind whirled.
Todd nodded. “You loved those BBQ competitions your daddy would take you to when you were growing up. You talked about them in college because you and I were both from Texas.”
“We were fish out of water at NYU.”
“Yeah. And while you were trying to emerge as someone other than who you were, deep in your heart, you were always a country girl.”
“I always was,” she confessed. “I just thought all those glittery gowns and galas would make me someone more important, relevant.”
She toyed with the corner of her napkin, hating how she’d lost her way. And yet ...
“I didn’t like being just the farmer’s daughter, Todd. I had more interests than being on a tractor or stuck in a stuffy little kitchen. And yet ...” She shook her head. “I loved cooking. I still do. I’d forgotten that along the way. Maybe because I felt stifled there. Or maybe because ... that was my mama’s kitchen before me.”
A tear fell to her plate.
Todd said, “Sometimes we’re desperate to break free of a box we think we’re put in.”
Her head snapped up. “Exactly. From the moment you told me Christopher had OD’d ... I’ve felt like one of those windup toys with the clown on springs.”
He grinned. “A jack-in-the-box.”
“You crank it just enough and see a whole new world.” She sat straighter in her chair. “Including the endorsements. I said no from the beginning, to minimize where my face is seen. Not anticipating anyone would recognize me, of course not. But there was still that niggling fear that kept me on a smaller platform. No offense.”
“None taken. We had to build an audience—and you’ve seen our recent numbers. We’re not small anymore, sweetheart.”
“No, we are not.”
Todd added, “We haven’t even touched on the job ops Brodi’s put in a separate digital file for you. But I had her print them all out. Just so you can get the full view of your career landscape.”
“I told you the offers had no bearing because I couldn’t provide details they’d want in the interviewing process.”
“Now you can.”
“Damn. Now I can.”
“Make no mistake, Layla. I’m not abandoning you. I have other projects to work on, yes. But I’m always available to be your consultant.”
She eyed him curiously. “What are you saying, Todd?”
“That you don’t need me as your executive producer.” He collected all the sheets into a tidy stack and returned them to their folder. Pushed it her way. “You can manage on your own, with your crew. And Brodi. All of your themes have been sensational—and successful. And with more sponsors in your back pocket ...” He grinned. “I can’t help but drop the reins and let you run wild.”
Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment.
Then they stared at each other again. She blinked. He lifted a brow.
“You’re ... what?” she queried. “Giving me the show?”
“Well, you did conceptualize it. Are a cocreator. The host.” He shrugged. “For all intents and purposes, other than you don’t direct the cameramen or engage with the judges, you are in charge of this production.”
“Yes, but I need a buffer between me and The Three—and someone whose expertise is managing the cameramen and the subsequent editing.”
“Come on, Layla,” he said. “You’ve got that all under control. If you want to continue with this premise and this platform ... then continue. I’ll back you. As will all these sponsors. I mean ... really study the list!” He gave a wide-eyed expression and laughed. Then more seriously contended, “Or branch out. World’s your oyster at this point.”
Words she’d dreamed of hearing ... but never had. Until now.
“That’s what’s so surreal,” she murmured. “That’s why the toy popping out of the box resonates with me. I’ve been trapped for so long. But now ... I’m breathing the fresh air.”
“Well deserved, my friend. Well deserved.”
They finished their brunch quietly, each contemplating all the variables left on the table.
Then Layla said, “This was an enlightening get-together. I’m going to hit the ladies’ before I head back to the ranch.”
“Don’t overlook all the possibilities. You can do as you please, Layla. You earned the right.”
She gathered her tote, stuffing the folder inside. She left a kiss on his cheek and said, “I love you to pieces. You can’t even begin to imagine.”
“I understand I’m irresistible.”
She laughed. “Yeah. That.” She shook her head and added, “Don’t let me hold you back. In any way.”
“You haven’t, and you won’t.”
“I appreciate all you’ve done for me, Todd. I just don’t know where to go from here. Other than ...” She gestured toward the hallway. “The restroom.”
“Go.”
She wove her way through the small conglomeration of tables toward the facilities. After freshening up, she exited into the alcove and took a moment to call Brodi on the housephone, just to ensure she was okay.
“Don’t know why that man gets me all riled up,” Brodi huffed. “Todd’s got less charm and zest than that Luke Reed—or even Chance Reed. And yet I would’ve been fine in his dancin’ arms all night long.”
“You were the one to shun him,” Layla reminded her.
“I like my job. I want to keep it!”
“Don’t go thinking you can’t have your cake and eat it too.”
“’Scuse me?”
Layla sighed. “I’m not committing to anything. But Todd might move on from our production. Then ... you’re open to ... whatever.”
“OMG! Am I about to lose my job without even having slept with the boss?!”
“Not.” Layla scoffed. “Wherever I pivot ... you’re welcome to go with me.” She more specifically stated, “I want you to go with me.”
Silence filled the line.
Layla didn’t press for a response.
Emotion tinged Brodi’s voice as she said, “I want to go where you go. We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“A damn good one.” The pause between them was as poignant as when Avery and Ritchie shared a moment that said so much. That they were partners.
“Happy to hear that.” Brodi sniffled. “See you tonight at the TRIPLE R.”
“Try not to get Todd all in a dither on the ride out. I don’t want y’all crashing.”
“Not like I’m gonna give him a hummer on the drive, girl. Well ... I can’t guarantee that.”
“Oh, my God. TMI while he’s still my boss.”
“I’m out. You do you—and Avery.”
“Ha, ha. Though ... that’s a given.”
“Just don’t forget the little people on your rise to the top.”
Layla swallowed a sudden hard lump. “I’m not on a rise. I have a cook-off to finish. And never, ever in the history of ever would I forget about you. A non-little person, by the way.”
“How you flatter me. See you later.”
“Love to you.”
“Same.”
Layla hung up.
She took a few deep breaths. Tried to silo all her thoughts so she could concentrate on the immediate picture, not the bigger one ready to swell in her head.
But her ruminations were disrupted.
“Tess Billings. Right?”
She jumped at the unfamiliar voice behind her. And the name he’d used.
“You are not a woman who’s easy to get alone.”
Oh. Holy. Hell.
The first terrifying thing to run through her brain was that the henchman had caught up to her.
A chill chased along her spine.
In a shaky voice, she said, “You must not have heard the news. Christopher Courtland is dead. No need to come looking for me anymore.”
“I have zero association with Christopher Courtland.” The accent was a southern drawl.
This perplexed her.
Layla whirled around to find a tall, muscular man in boots, faded jeans, Western shirt, and a hat standing not more than a couple of feet away from her.
“I’ve been lookin’ forward to meeting you,” he said.
She stared into blue eyes that ran in one family. Along with the height and the broad shoulders. The dark hair.
“Caleb Reed,” she said on a quavering breath.
“In the flesh.”
She wasn’t sure who was more dangerous. Him or the henchman.
“What do you want, Mr. Reed?”
“Oh, no call for the ‘mister,’ Miss Billings. Neither my brother, nor our father, subscribed to that. Caleb’s fine.”
“Whatever you prefer. And it’s not Miss Billings. It’s Miss Jenson.”
“I’m a little confused about the details.”
Her blood ran cold. “You listened in on my conversation the other night? Here at the restaurant?”
“I do apologize for that.” He removed his hat and placed it over his heart. All sincere-like. “I was hoping for a moment to speak with you. But then everything got a bit tense at your table.”
“Yes, because someone died. So what can I do for you?” she asked as her trembling fingers reached for her cell phone in her bag.
“No need to call 911. Or anyone else.” He raised his hands. Still holding the hat. “I only want one thing from you.”
What could that possibly be?
And exactly how worried should she be that he wanted her alone?
Panic skittered through her.
What Avery had told her about this man having a short fuse was still ripe in her mind. Along with Avery’s angst—and his pain.
She took a step backward, only to bump up against the ledge of the shelf the housephone sat on.
His body was between her and the nearest exit. She was backed into a corner.
Her heart rate accelerated. Her breath got stuck in her throat for several seconds.
She’d been wary of being in this situation for the past five years. She just hadn’t expected it to be her cowboy crush’s father who was bearing down on her.
“Why are you here?” she demanded in as stable a voice as she could manage.
“It’s a very simple request,” he assured her.
Yet if he were telling the truth, she wouldn’t feel the tremors shooting down her legs.
“What is it?” she asked.
“For Avery to win this cook-off.”
Layla gaped. The panic increased.
“I have no say over that,” she asserted. “I designed the competition to remove myself from any sort of persuasion or influence. I—”
“I want my boy to win.” He took a step toward her; she had nowhere to go. “He deserves to win. Ain’t got no one better on your roster who can do what Avery does. And the entire ranch setup ... that can’t be beat either.”
“That all depends on how the judges feel. How the viewers weigh in,” she told him as her stomach roiled. And in her peripheral vision, she wondered if she could skirt him and outrun him to the side door.
Yeah. Right.
“I don’t think you’re hearing me, Miss Jenson,” he said in a strained tone. “I want Avery to win. You make sure that he does.”
He gave her a pointed look. Then he moved away, toward that exit she’d been eyeing.
Something snapped within her.
Likely due to that newfound freedom of hers.
She wouldn’t keep cowering. Not anymore.
“Hey,” she called out—brazenly, though her insides seized up.
He halted. Spun back to face her.
Layla forced herself not to shrink away. She even hitched her chin.
“Are you threatening me?”
He plopped his hat on his head. And said, “You ought to go see your daddy. You never know how long he might have, Tess.”
He turned from her. And strode out the door.