With Kristin’s help, I prepped for the meeting with the mayor. I was shocked later when he told me that the face-punching only bolstered his appreciation for my work, and that it had been the story on the police cruisers that first snagged his attention. I was ten feet tall about it.
I watched the story Ty and I edited in record time from the back wall of the chilly studio as it aired. “What are you doing with your hands on your head like that?” Davonte asked, squinting from his spot between cameras one and two. “Do you have horns?”
“I’m nervous,” I whispered. “So I’m being a moose. And they’re antlers, not horns. It’s a thing I do. You should try it sometime.”
“Gotcha,” he said slowly.
The antlers were something I’d relied on since I was a kid, and I wasn’t embarrassed to trot them out when I needed them. They never let me down, though they did pull some strange looks. In fact, I’d received one from Carrie just moments before when she’d caught sight of my hand-antlers in her eye line. She still hadn’t missed a beat while on camera, and that polish made me want to do naked things with her, and soon.
“You had no reason for antlers. The story killed,” she said as we walked to the parking lot after the ten. “You did a great job.”
“All Kristin. I just showed up.”
“I didn’t see her anywhere on that footage.”
“Huh. Strange.”
“Nope. That was you sitting with our mayor. You were appropriate, warm but hard-hitting. That’s the kind of journalism people are interested in. No one wants a jerk, or someone too afraid to ask the uncomfortable stuff.” She opened her car door and paused. “You were neither. You held him to the fire with respect and even some humor. See? No antlers required.”
“Thank you for saying that. It helps a lot.” I exhaled. “I’ll keep the antlers on standby. Send them home for the night.”
“Perfect. Grab Micky and come over? We can veg out and stare at the wall.”
“That’s my favorite. I’m sick of myself.”
She perked up. “I’m sick of myself! So we’ll focus on each other.”
“And the wall.”
“Don’t I know it. See you in twenty.”
I grinned. “I’ll be there. With antlers on.”
I didn’t knock anymore upon arrival at her place and liked the informality we’d established. I found her staring at a legal pad when I followed Micky’s jaunty trot into the kitchen.
“That’s not a wall,” I said, my brow furrowed. “We had a wall pact, and you’re working. Flag on the play. I will storm the hell out of here.”
She turned. “You better not. I just didn’t want to start without you.”
“Oh.” I relaxed. “Well, that’s much better.”
She dropped the pad. “Just making some notes for a presentation I’m giving at the PSJ conference.”
Ah, yes. The Professional Society of Journalists was hosting their annual conference later that month in Denver. I’d seen photos from the conference each year but had never attended. It was a big deal, and my little station had never been willing to fork over the money. “I didn’t know you were speaking.”
“Giving a talk for aspiring anchors on breaking into the business.” She raised a finger. “And before you say anything, I’m aware of the irony, given how I treated you on your arrival. But you’re different. You were under my skin and taking me wildly out of my comfort zone in under sixty seconds.”
“You crushed on me.” I rocked back on my proud heels.
She closed her eyes and held it. “So hard. And then your personality and talent lived up, and I was in trouble. Still am.”
“Good,” I said, leaning in for a slow kiss and luxuriating in its unravel. “Let’s stay in trouble. Say yes. We do trouble real well.”
She nodded. “For someone who plays it safe, that says a lot.” She scooped up my dog and peppered his head with kisses while he wagged his whole body in adoration. He knew he got tons of attention when Carrie was around and was clearly milking it. I was beginning to feel he liked her more than me, which was outlandish given our bond.
“Stop the lovefest. I’m standing right here.” A pause as I reflected on her statement. “I don’t think I would have guessed that you played it safe before meeting you.”
“I’m working on my reckless side, but it’s slow going.” She winked at me and placed Micky in the extra dog bed she’d picked up for when he came over. It looked expensive and chic, and he seemed to know it, sitting there proudly likely a newly crowned Prince of the Mutts.
“Give me the speech.” I folded my arms and grinned.
Her brows dipped. “No.”
“Yes. I want to hear it. Stand on the counter.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I’ll ply you with moonshine until your inhibitions take their leave.”
“You sound like you’re on Little House on the Prairie.”
“What?”
She sighed. “I forget how young you are. It’s a show. Look it up one day for family-friendly viewing.”
“Say the speech.”
She sighed. “I guess it couldn’t hurt to practice.”
I rubbed my hands together. “Now we’re talkin’. I’m getting a speech.”
Carrie gave her hair the most subtle of tosses. I’d seen her do that very action seconds before her broadcasts went live and swallowed a smile at its appearance now. Cute. Her gaze settled on me and then imaginary people to my right and left. “Good morning, everyone, and thank you for having me.”
“Let’s not get crazy. Define have. I’ve had you, but have they? All of them. Really?”
She paused. “Stop harassing the speaker. It’s a formality. Shall I go on?”
I gestured to give her the floor. “Please.”
“The road to the anchor chair is not an easy one, but it does come with some magnificent sightseeing along the way.”
“I can agree with that.” I slipped off my shoes, hopped on the counter, and crisscrossed my legs.
Carrie smiled with serenity. “I was twenty-two when I was offered my first reporting job in Bossier City, Louisiana. I packed up everything I owned from my college apartment and got on the road to what I just knew would be the most exciting, glamorous job anyone could ever hope for.” I grinned, enjoying the show. “It’s safe to say that I was more than a little bit green.”