Chapter 20 - Jensen
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Jensen
Leaving the truck running, I jog up the short path and rap on the RV’s door with my knuckles. I wait, rocking back and forth on my heels until the door swings open.
“My, my, my.” Ms. Dorothy looks me up and down, pressing a hand to her heart. “You’ve come to ask me to run away with you, haven’t you, boy?”
I play along, dipping my head. “If I thought you’d agree, I’d have asked a long time ago.”
“You’re kind to indulge an old woman.” Ms. Dorothy pats my cheek. “But you do clean up nice. It’s not every day my handsome landlord shows up looking so dapper.”
The fabric of my suit jacket pulls a little between the shoulders, and I’m missing my Levi's right about now, but I figured the occasion called for more than the usual jeans and t-shirt.
“We’ve got that television interview today. I’m actually headed to the station now, and I told Callie I’d give her a ride. I figured I’d stop by and bring you this first.” I hold up a lightbulb in my hand. “You mentioned yesterday that the light in your refrigerator had gone out.”
“Oh, you sweet thing. That could’ve waited a day or two. My condiments are just fine in the dark.”
“Anything for you, Ms. Dorothy. You know that.”
“Well, I appreciate it.” She takes the lightbulb and drops it in the front pocket of her flowered apron. “You better not keep my pretty neighbor waiting.”
I’m not sure what my face looks like when she mentions Callie, but my heart definitely reacts, and from the knowing look Ms. Dorothy gives me, it’s almost as if she can hear it racing.
“And Jensen?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“You let yourself love her, okay?”
My eyebrows shoot up. Dorothy and I talk a lot, but not about anything too deep. I’ve never told her much about my personal life, and she’s never really asked. I haven’t breathed a word to her about Callie and how I feel about her.
“Don’t be so surprised. Your face gives you away every time you look at that girl.
It ain’t hard to read.” She takes a step closer and lays a hand on my arm.
“It also ain't hard to tell that you’ve been carrying a lot of hurt around for quite some time. And that kind of hurt isn’t all that easy to let go of.
But listen, I’ve been paying attention, and I know that whatever is simmering between you two is the real thing.
Don’t let what’s been dragging you down keep you there. ”
Surprised by the turn of our conversation and the way it makes a lump rise in my throat, all I can do is nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now, go get our girl.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say again because even though my mind is spinning, rolling Dorothy’s words around like a marble in my head, I am anxious to see Callie.
It’s been like this ever since the Thirsty Horse.
When I’m not with her, I’m practically counting down the minutes until I see her again.
Whether it’s running into her at the flea market or watching her paint through my kitchen window, I can’t seem to get enough of her.
Even Peaches is enamored—I swear, my dog spends more time with Callie than she does with me.
Not that I mind. Every time Callie brings her back, it’s another minute I get to spend with her.
You know what you look like? One of those cartoon characters with hearts in its eyes, Kasey laughs, his voice loud in my ears.
“It’s not like that,” I argue, stepping up to the landing to knock on the door. “We’re keeping things simple between us.”
Keep telling yourself that .
I must be scowling when the door opens because Callie’s smile droops. “Hey,” she says tentatively.
“Morning.” I shake my head, wiping away the image of Kasey’s teasing grin and give Callie one of my own. “You ready?”
“Yeah, let me just go grab my bag.”
When she steps out onto the landing, the air in my lungs damn near evaporates making me cough.
She’s wearing a rose-colored sundress that hugs every curve like my truck on a backroad.
There’s a gloss coating her lips that matches the color of her dress and her hair is curled, hanging across her back in waves.
She looks absolutely stunning standing in the morning light, the sun making the crown of her head glow like a halo.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I wheeze. “Sorry about that. I think I swallowed a fly or something.”
Kase snorts. Real smooth, Shep.
Callie lets out a laugh that distracts me from my desire to lift a certain finger up in the air and gives me a playful shove. “Well, maybe you should learn to breathe through your nose.”
I roll my eyes, but don’t bother with a comeback. I opt for a compliment instead. “You look amazing.”
“You think so?” She smoothes the front of her dress. “This is my first time ever doing a live interview like this, and I wasn’t sure what to wear.”
My fingers itch to touch her, so I satisfy them by placing a palm on the small of her back to lead her to my truck. “You’re perfect.” I’m not just talking about the dress, either.
“Thank you. You clean up pretty nice, too.”
“I have exactly one suit,” I confess. “There’s usually not too many occasions to wear one around here.”
“Well, we should definitely change that.”
I hold the door open for Callie as she hops up into the cab, warmth creeping up the back of my neck. I’m not used to a woman complimenting me, and I like it way more than I should.
The ride to the station only takes us about forty-five minutes, and we keep things pretty light, singing along to the radio and swapping stories from our week.
Having her next to me in the truck is like scratching an itch I haven’t been able to reach.
When I’m with her, everything just feels right .
“Have you ever been here before?” I ask, as we pull up to the television station.
“No, but I grew up with Good Day Alabama playing in the background of my childhood. It’s a little surreal that we’re here. And kind of intimidating.”
“It’s not too late to put her in reverse,” I offer, only half-joking. “We could go for coffee instead.”
“Coffee with you sounds amazing, but . . . ” Callie sighs.
“But you love your cousin way too much to bail on her last minute? ”
“Yeah, and I’m kinda hoping to get a glimpse of Jim Bann.”
“The weather guy?” This makes me snort.
“He’s not just a weather guy,” Callie fires back, her nostrils flaring in a way that makes me chuckle even more.
“He’s the best meteorologist of all time.
There’s not a soul in Alabama that would disagree with me on that.
I’ll take pity on you because you’re a transplant, but you should know he’s a legend around here. ”
“It’s cute seeing you get all riled up over the weatherman,” I tease, knowing I’m pushing her buttons.
“Listen here, Shepherd.”
“Oooh, using my last name. I like that.”
“Stop distracting me.” Callie smacks my shoulder and continues.
“Jim Bann is the reason we all survive tornado season around these parts. In fact, you know how serious the situation is just by what he’s wearing.
He’s got his suit jacket on, things are still okay.
But you see that man’s suspenders? Well, you better hunker down. It’s gonna be a long night.”
“You’re a little starstruck.”
“It’s Jim Bann, ” Callie says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
Once we make it through security, we’re ushered up to the main floor where we’re taken to a green room. Mabel is waiting for us there, looking bright-eyed and nervous as a woman with light brown skin and voluminous curls wearing a headset fits her with a microphone.
“Hi!” She waves us over. “My name is Lenora but most people just call me Lennie. I’m one of the producers on the show. You must be Callie and Jensen. We’re so excited to have you with us today.”
Lennie makes quick work getting both Callie and I set up with microphones and then gives us a short rundown of what to expect. “Charlotte Cannon, our host, will do a little introduction and then she’ll invite you to join her on the set.”
She directs us over to a small sitting area where a bunch of refreshments have been set out.
I help myself to a lemonade, while Callie and Mabel chat excitedly.
I leave them to their girl talk and focus on taking small sips of my drink.
Now that we’re here, minutes away from being on live television, my stomach is twisting and turning.
“You okay?” Callie comes over, her fingers trailing along my forearm. “You’re looking a little pale.”
“I don’t like the spotlight much.”
“I don’t either. I say we let Mabel do most of the talking.”
Mabel pops up over Callie’s shoulder, a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat on her face. “I’m good with that! I never met a camera I didn’t like.”
Callie rolls her eyes. “I can confirm this.”
“Well, it’s up to you then, Mabel. Make us look good.”
We don’t have to wait long before Lennie is back, double-checking the battery packs on our microphones before leading us into the studio where filming takes place.
The set is made up of an oversized, bulbous armchair and a matching couch.
There’s a coffee table with flowers in the center and a massive screen projecting the Good Day Alabama logo.
The sight doesn’t help the tidal wave rolling around in my stomach, but Callie, sensing my distress, moves a little closer, pressing her body against mine.
“We got this,” she whispers just as a cameraman signals us to get into position.
A woman wearing a deep maroon suit steps onto the set, her tan skin glowing under the stage lights. Her long black hair hangs straight past her shoulders, and her bright smile must have some kind of extra wattage in it—it almost hurts to look at.
A cameraman counts her down as she positions herself in the armchair.