“Everyone! Stop the waffle talk! Jordan’s proposing!” Barry called, waving for the group to quiet down.
“If I say yes, will it make me the Empress of Asshattery?” Georgie asked with a sly twist to her lips.
He met her teasing grin with one of his own. “We’d probably need to consult the Belgian Waffle Princess on matters of royal protocol to be sure, but I’d say there’s an excellent chance of that happening. And by the way, you’ve said asshat or some form of it at least three times on morning TV.”
“That’s Wake—” the host began, but Jordan held up his hand, silencing the Wake-Up Denver plug.
“You’ve dropped it a few times yourself, mister,” his hopefully soon-to-be fiancée parried back.
He brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “What do you say, Georgiana? Will you be mine forever?”
“Bobby, look at them,” Hector clucked through a veil of tears.
Georgie’s gaze traveled around the set.
“Yes or no, Georgiana? Denver and the entire world are watching,” the male host coaxed in a made-for-TV purr. A sugary sound that made Jordan want to pick up the guy and toss him over the giant Wake-Up Denver jumbotron screen. But before he had time to go full CrossFit cretin on the man, Georgie cupped his face in her hand.
She stroked his cheek—something she’d done every day—but today, on the day of his proposal, it brought tears to his eyes. He was over six feet of pure muscle, but with the brush of her thumb, this wisp of a woman could bring him to his knees.
Her gaze grew glassy. “Yes, a thousand times, yes.”
He chuckled, savoring the warmth of her touch. “You had to throw a little Jane Austen in there, didn’t you?”
“What did you expect? You did just propose to a bookshop owner.”
She gave him a sweet shrug as he tried to slide the ring onto her finger.
And it was too…
Hector gasped. “It’s too big! It doesn’t fit?”
Bobby scratched his head. “I would have sworn Georgie was a size six.”
“It’s fine, guys. We can get it resized. I’ll wear it on my middle finger until we can get that done,” Georgie answered, offering up the larger digit.
“What does it mean if the ring doesn’t fit?” Hector questioned in a low whisper.
Jordan tried to hold it together as a wave of frustration washed over him.
Christ! First, the proposal from hell and now, the damn ring didn’t fit.
“Georgie, I—” he began, wanting to apologize, scoop her up, throw her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, and get them the hell off that set. But he froze when the Wake-Up Denver producer signaled to wrap it up, and the host turned to the camera with her plastic smile blazing.
“Don’t go away! We’ll be back after this commercial break with seven ways to spice up Taco Tuesday.”
“And, we’re clear,” the producer chimed.
Georgie sat back. “Wow, that was intense.”
He took her hands into his. “Georgie, I’m sorry. When I planned this in my head, it looked a lot different.”
“So, you weren’t already in cahoots with the Belgian Waffle Princess?” she replied, gazing down at their hands and the ring sparkling on the wrong finger.
Jesus, this woman! He was one lucky man. The fact that she could see the humor in this mess said more than words ever could.
He shook his head and cringed. “No way. You know how I feel about empty calories in breakfast foods. The only way to eat a Belgian waffle is if it’s made with buckwheat flour, and you’ve added ground chia seeds for an Omega punch.”
“And speaking of buckwheat waffles!” Bobby said as he checked his phone. “We need to get you two into a car.”
“A car?” he and Georgie repeated in unison.
“Yes, a car, so you can get to the champagne engagement party,” Barry added, hammering out a text on his phone.
Jordan shared a look with Georgie. “A champagne, what?”
This was news to him.
Hector handed the Kleenex box to a passing production assistant. “You silly things, of course, we’re going to celebrate. And what better way than to celebrate with champagne!”
“And CityBeat will be there to share in this happy day!” Bobby added.
“CityBeat will be there?” Jordan asked, coming to his feet.
Bobby held out his phone. “Yes, look at these stats. The world loves you guys. And with your More Than Just a Number blog growing, this is exactly the type of content you need to share with your subscribers.”
Content?
His proposal was a hell of a lot more than merely content for their newsfeed. Sure, he loved their More Than Just a Number blog. He valued every person who chose to subscribe. It was their platform, their vision, and they wanted to help and inspire people. But their blog wasn’t a voyeuristic site intent on broadcasting every facet of their lives.
He was about to set the record straight when the production assistant, who he’d almost punched into next week thanks to that whole you’re hot mix-up, approached the group.
“Sorry, folks, but we need you off the set so we can set up for the Taco Tuesday segment.”
“Jordan and I aren’t doing our segments?” Georgie asked as two large men lifted the couch she’d been sitting on while another burly man rolled out a table on squeaky wheels.
The kid shifted his stance. “Sorry, your whole waffle wedding proposal took the place of it.”
“Waffle wedding proposal?” Jordan repeated as Georgie’s expression grew pained, which hit him like a punch to the gut.
Dammit! He’d shared the whole engagement idea with the Wake-Up Denver producer a couple of days ago. Still, the man hadn’t mentioned anything about cutting the educational component of their time on-air.
Georgie produced a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand,” she answered, then lifted a sleeping Mr. Tuesday off the ground and into her arms.
They followed the production assistant off the set as a woman buzzed past them, removing their mics then flitted away toward the chefs standing at the taco set.
Being in this place was starting to feel like a continual case of whiplash. He pressed his hand to the small of Georgie’s back and followed the CityBeat wedding brigade off the set when Becca met them in the hallway.
“Congratulations! Let’s see this ring!” Georgie’s friend exclaimed.
“No time!” Hector called, waving them forward. “Do the doggie switcheroo, and then we need to be off.”
Georgie looked from Mr. Tuesday to Becca. “Do you mind taking him home? I’m not exactly sure what’s happening at the…”
“Why, we’re all headed to the Denver Palace Hotel! The perfect place for the prince and princess of CityBeat!” Hector supplied.
Jordan looked between the blog site founders. “You guys can’t be serious with this whole prince and princess thing?”
“That’s what the Belgian Waffle Princess dubbed you guys, and it seems to be trending online along with Emperor of Asshattery,” Barry said, tilting his phone for them to see the post.
“You know what that means,” Hector said, rubbing his hands together.