Chapter 15
Charlotte
“Five hundred thousand views and counting!” Taysom says, standing on my doorstep, a wide grin on my face.
My brain skitters to the other night, when he helped me rescue Miley right in this very spot.
“Oh my goodness!” I shake my head. Miley, who had just been snaking around my ankles, has abandoned me entirely for Taysom and now she’s up on her hind legs, her two tiny paws on Taysom’s leg, her gaze hungry for love.
I know that gaze. I think I’m guilty of the same thing myself from time to time where Taysom is concerned.
I knew the video was close to hitting five hundred thousand.
I’ve been watching it over and over again since we filmed it yesterday.
And when I asked him the other day if he was on social media, of course I knew the answer to that.
I’ve been silently following his accounts for years.
Not in a stalkerish way. Just…well, I don’t know in what way… but I have.
“Do you want to come in?” I ask, widening the doorway.
He bends down to pick up Miley. “Yeah, if you have a few minutes? I wanted to see about filming another live video.”
I run a hand through my hair. I took my bun out when I got home from work…it feels so heavenly to scratch my head where the bobby pins dig into it all day.
“Another video? Why?”
He cuddles Miley close, nuzzling her against the bottom of his chin. “Did you not hear me? Five hundred thousand views and it doesn’t show signs of slowing down yet. We’ve got to strike while the iron’s hot!”
“I mean, I guess you’re right. It’s just that…I wasn’t expecting you and…”
His gaze travels over my living room. When he came last night, I was prepared.
I’d clean up beforehand, you know? Now, the room is lived in, with cat toys and a discarded pair of shoes and a paper plate from dinner on the coffee table.
Not to mention my laptop with my cobbled together, dumpster fire of a resume pulled up on it.
He hesitates. “I can come back another time…I should have asked you if I could come. I just finished a session with my trainer and thought I’d stop by.”
Ah. That explains the gym shorts and compression shirt.
Compression shirt is synonymous with gorgeous man trophy case.
“No, no need to come back. We can film right now.” I close my laptop. Why is a resume so…intimate and vulnerable? I don’t know, but suddenly, it very much is. “It’s no problem.”
“Great! I thought I could do a follow-up to the last one and answer some questions that have come up in the comments.” He pauses, looking down at the coffee table at some papers I received from the local shelter. “You reported that you found a kitten?”
I nod. “Yes, I let the police department and the shelter know. That way, if the owners come forward, they’ll get in touch with me.”
He looks at Miley lovingly. “Have you received any messages about it yet?”
“Not yet.” I tilt my head. “I don’t know what I’m hoping for.”
“Yeah, I mean, if she really belongs to someone else, sure. It would be good to hear from them and return her to them. But if she’s a stray? Then you’ll keep her, right?”
I glance around the room at the cat tree and kitten toys and the foil bag of treats. “I mean, I might as well.”
The truth is, I like the cat. I didn’t realize how quiet and, I’ll admit it, lonely it is around here until she was suddenly here, taking up all the space in the house.
“Good, because the public loves her. So, yeah, I had the team’s social media manager make a list of the questions for me.”
“And then just remind everyone about the gait analysis?”
“Exactly. It’s true, according to my social media manager, that most of the comments have nothing to do with the screening.
” His face falls as he sits down on my sofa.
“But I think as long as we’re featuring the cat and talking about the screening, it will be fine.
Gotta give the public what they want, right? ”
“I’m not used to dealing with the public of any kind, but it makes sense.”
“I think we should start off with Miley in the video and just see how it goes. Be spontaneous, like you said.”
“Well, I appreciate it. Let me go get my tripod.”
I run back to my room and take a moment to freshen up. But when I look in the mirror to smooth some foundation over my freckles, I see something different in my expression that both thrills me and fills me with dread. Anticipation. Excitement.
And it’s because of Taysom.
No. This won’t do. I can’t want Taysom. Wanting anything as badly as I used to want Taysom is a fool’s errand.
I run a brush through my hair, promising myself that that’s all the primping I will do. I’m not going overboard.
I re-enter my living room to see Taysom lying on my hardwood floor, Miley crawling all over his abdomen.
“I see she tackled you.”
“It just sort of happened.”
I giggle, putting my hands on my cheeks. That sight is an aphrodisiac in a bottle right there.
I set up my laptop so he can see himself and then set up the tripod. “Okay, let me see your phone.” I hold out my hand.
He just stares at me, his eyes narrowing. He swings his torso—his big, muscular torso—up to a seated position, which makes Miley protest loudly.
“That cat has a meow that could singe hair off a Viking’s chest,” I say.
Taysom chuckles, but he’s still looking at me, considering me.
“What?” I ask.
“So, I’m here. Filming this spot for you, right?”
I grow wary. “Right.”
“And, so if I asked you for a teensy, tiny favor, you’d say yes, right?”
“No.” I cross my arms over my chest, but then I sigh. “Depends on what it is.”
His lips twitch. “I read the comment report from the social media manager and…there were many people asking about Miley, as you know, but also a lot of people asking about Miley’s owner.”
“So?” I scratch my nose. “I saw a couple of comments wondering about her owner, but…”
“So, join me in the video.”
“No, Taysom.” I laugh and wave him off, taking his phone from his hands and
securing it in the stand.
“Please? The public is demanding it.”
“A few comments about it hardly means they’re demanding it!”
“I just think it’ll be nice for people to see the face behind the Early Childhood Center, you know?”
“I’m not the face of the center…”
“You are, in a way. You’re doing this whole big screening even though you’re losing your job. Do you understand how unique that is? Most people wouldn’t go to these lengths for an organization that can’t keep them on. They’d be looking for the next best thing. They’d be moving on.”
I am trying to move on. I’m getting my resume in shape. I’m pouring over job boards. “It’s for the kids.”
“Exactly. Which is so cool.” He appraises me. “Just be in the video. It can be short. But I think you saying a few words will add credibility to what we’re trying to do here.”
“I’d need to change my clothes and pull my hair back.”
“Why?” His smile snags something inside of me, something old and worn and forgotten about. “We need to be spontaneous, remember?”
I swallow hard. This is really happening, huh? It’s like I’m trying to retrieve a ball of yarn, bouncing away from me. “I’m not used to attention like you are.”
He sets Miley down on the floor, stands, and steps to me.
He lifts a section of my hair and runs his fingers through it.
“It’ll be okay. Let me take the lead and you follow.
It’s going to be great. You’re…” His gaze darts down to my mouth and then back up to my eyes.
“You’re beautiful and smart and you care so much about this.
I think me and Miley can only take it so far. We need you.”
“I…” I’m lost in his bright blue eyes. I grab at my hair to twist it around on top of my head. “Let me just grab a clip.”
He grabs my hand. “No.” He blinks rapidly. “I mean, you can pull it back if you want, but why are you trying to hide the sunset?”
The look I give him must show him my confusion. “The sunset,” he repeats. “Your hair has always reminded me of the colors of the sky at sunset.”
My mouth forms an O before I compose myself from what is probably the nicest thing any man has said to me. “Well, thanks.” I run a hand through it. “You know I’ve always hated it.”
He grabs a lock and peers at it. “Like the whole spectrum of the rainbow. I mean, it’s cool. There’s some blonde, some red, a tinge of brown…”
“And orange,” I say.
“What’s wrong with orange?” His eyes dance. “Besides, it’s more pumpkin, anyway.”
I groan. “I have pumpkin-colored hair? So…like a jack-o’-lantern.” I give a sharp nod. “Thanks.”
“What? I happen to love orange and pumpkins and…” He stares at me. “All I’m saying is I love your hair. I told you this before. I think it’s beautiful, so can we agree to disagree?”
My mouth twitches. He’s convincing. His tone and the look in his eyes tell me he’s not pretending.
He’s not trying to flatter me. Still, it’s so…
self-indulgent of me to be one of those women who hates how they look—who has difficulty finding anything about their appearance that they like.
It’s so self-deprecating. Is it an attention grab? Is it me being too into myself?
Because being too into myself, too concerned with what I want, was what got me into trouble. It’s what put my little sister in harm’s way.
I push the thoughts aside. “Let’s just get the filming over with, okay? I have some major job searching to do.”
His smile is broad as he scoops Miley up into his arms. “Are you ready to break the internet with your cuteness, Miley?” He says to her as if she’s a baby. “And you, too?” he asks me, his gaze raking over me. It’s not said to me like I’m a baby. It’s said as if I’m a fully grown woman.
My heart catapults through my chest.
I am in trouble.