Mom shrugged as she loaded the fridge. “The articles are top-notch, honey. Let me tell you—”
Everly covered her ears. “Oh God, please don’t. Don’t tell me anything you learned in Cosmo.”
Her mother laughed and waved a hand at her. “Stop it. Now, we’re going to turn this birthday into a happy one. I know your dad asked you to come over, and I also know you won’t. That’s okay. You’re a grown woman and can make your own choices. But that doesn’t mean I’m just going to let you sit here and wallow.”
Because she knew she’d be eating more than one of those cupcakes, Everly pulled a banana from the bunch her mom brought to even things off right out of the gate.
“I’m not wallowing. How’d you know I was home?”
Her mom’s chin tilted down, and she looked at Everly the way someone would if they were peering over the tops of their glasses. Only she wasn’t wearing any, so it seemed strange. But Everly knew the looks; this one was “I’m your mom. I’m supposed to know.”
“You went to the station?”
A quick nod, and she finished loading up the fridge.
“I did. Stacey told me you’d been sent home. I’m sorry, honey. You aren’t in any trouble, are you?”
Everly broke off a chunk of the banana, ignored the instant stomach swirl even the thought of trouble brought, and said, “Don’t see why I would be,” before popping the bite in her mouth. She was happy her voice sounded more positive than she felt.
“Good. Because you don’t want to start looking for a career at your age. Especially since you should be focused on finding a husband.”
Everly rolled her eyes twice because she was sure it would be warranted by the end of the visit, but at the moment, her mom’s back was turned.
Possible rule seven: Take the opportunities presented to you.
Ha! See, she could totally come up with a cool list. Pitching projects and seizing moments was exactly what she needed to get thirty off the ground. Even if those moments included behind-the-back eye rolling.
“Not sure if you’ve heard, but they no longer require you to get married to keep your woman card. You should bring that up next time you’re at the Mom Food Store.”
Laughing as she grabbed a banana of her own, her mom tilted her head. “Sharing your life with someone makes it more meaningful.”
Everly’s heartstrings tightened—like someone gave one quick, hard tug. They were both right; she didn’t need a husband to make her life better, but sharing her life with someone would make things more special. That’s what Stacey’s for; you can share plenty with her tonight.
“You want a cupcake now or later?” her mom asked, finishing up her banana in record time.
Everly gave her the over-the-fake-eyeglasses look, making her mom laugh. Finishing her healthy food, then grabbing a couple of plates and some forks, they took their treats to the built-in nook in the corner of the kitchen.
“I’m going to give you some motherly advice,” her mom said after a few minutes of quiet.
“Mom. I don’t need advice. I just need today to be over.” She let the soft, delicious chocolate sit on her tongue a moment. She should have started her day like this instead of surprising her ex. At least you didn’t waste much time on him. It’d been a step forward for her, though, the idea of letting Simon be part of a day she dreaded. It’s over. Stop dwelling.
“Sweetie.” Her mom covered her hand with her own, doing the full head-to-the-side tilt. That, combined with the sad eyes, was her “You don’t know what you need” look. Now that would be a long list: her mother’s many looks.
“Really, I’m good. I dated a loser. This is what happens when you do that.” There’d be less chance of traveling the same path once she had her rules.
“Did you stuff his balls down his throat?”
Everly nearly choked on her bite of cake. Her eyes watered. “Uh, no. That would have involved touching them, and I really didn’t want to do that.”
She frowned. “Did you yell? Tell him what you thought of him?”
Everly shook her head. That would have meant sticking around for longer.
Her mom leaned in closer. “Did you call him names? Swear? Slam a door? Wreck something of his?”
She swallowed, wished for some water to magically appear, and shook her head again. “No. No. No. And no. I did drop the coffee and bagels I’d brought us all over the floor and didn’t stick around to clean it up.”
Widening her eyes in mock horror, her mom pressed a hand to her chest. “Wow. Remind me never to cross you.”
She didn’t have either of her parents’ tempers or flair for the dramatic. In her opinion, the less conflict the better. They loved hard, laughed hard, and fought hard. Everly usually just watched from the sidelines.
With a small smile, Everly slid out of the bench seat and went to grab a couple of bottles of water from the fridge. She passed one to her mom and opened hers to take a long drink.
“I’m good. You don’t need to worry.”
“Of course we worry. We love you.”
Some months it was we, some it was your father and I. “Well, don’t. And I love you, too.”
“You know, I know what I’m talking about. You should take me more seriously. I have a client who just got married. She’s twenty-three, and when I tell her secrets to a good marriage? She laps it up like I’m the patron saint of weddings or something. I have been married for twenty-five years.”
The volcano of emotion that had gone dormant throughout the day started to rumble. This woman didn’t have Everly’s first-hand knowledge that her parents weren’t the gurus of marriage. Normally, she’d bite her tongue, let her mother wax poetic about relationships but she didn’t have the energy to hold back. She couldn’t fight this, too. Looking down at her cake, she counted to ten in her head. When she looked up, she said, “You keep your office furnished with a pullout sofa for when you’re mad at Dad. You dive headfirst into a new hobby every time you’re fighting. You break up and make up frequently. No offense, but I don’t want that kind of relationship. Or a pile of handmade crafts I’d have to store.” These rules were really perfect. No odd hobbies, because rule number two said no hoarding—animal or otherwise.
Her mom’s eyes didn’t flash with hurt or anger. No. Jessica Dean could take a punch and keep going. It was one of the things that made it hard to be mad at her—she made no apologies for being exactly who she was. She also didn’t bullshit, so she’d be okay with Everly stating the facts.
Her mom laughed, pressed her index finger to the crumbs on her plate. “You do have a point. Despite that, I still know a few things about making a man happy. Besides, it never hurts to have a spare couch. There are many uses for that. Like when your father is being a sweetheart and bringing me lunch.”
Everly plugged her ears again but couldn’t help the laughter bubbling from her chest. “Stop it. I think I need to worry about me being happy before someone else. But thanks.”
Her mom yanked on the crook of one of her elbows, joining in on the laughter. “Anytime, sweetie. I know your dad and I are a little wonky and maybe not the best role models when it comes to love, but everyone is different. You just need to find what works for you.”
* * *
After her mom left, Everly picked up the notebook again, looked through the rules. She wanted ten. A nice, even number. Proof that she was taking this decade seriously so she wouldn’t hit forty and think about all the things she wished she’d done differently. Right. Because you have plans to use that decade for gratitude.
She had a solid rule seven: Find what makes you truly happy. And hang on to it.
[3]
The headache Chris Jansen woke up with came back with attitude and a Thor-size hammer. He would have dropped his head to his desk if he wasn’t working so hard to keep himself together. The look on Everly’s face kept flashing in his brain like a neon sign. How one woman could be so gorgeous and unaware of it was beyond him. He wasn’t supposed
to think of her like that. Chris put considerable time and effort into not thinking about Everly Dean, but just seeing her smile opened Pandora’s box in his chest. In a small town over an hour outside of LA, he had a simple task: boost station ratings, get the place in shape, move on to bigger and much better things. Things he’d actually gone to school for, things he wanted to do.
That was the short-term plan when he’d agreed to take the job as 96.2 SUN station manager.
“Agreed suggests you had a choice,” he muttered.
Maybe that was true if he didn’t mind choosing between proving himself to his father or not living up to a long legacy of familial expectations. Chris hadn’t paid much attention when his dad purchased the station, along with a number of other businesses under the same umbrella, because he hadn’t realized, at the time, it was going to be his final stepping-stone. Nathaniel Jansen loved setting out hoops for people to jump through, and as the youngest of Nathaniel’s four kids, Chris had the most to prove. His brothers were already working in their preferred areas of their father’s companies. Not that they didn’t get shoved through the wringer on a regular basis, but at least they were doing what they loved.
He leaned back in his leather chair, ignoring the groaning creak it always made, and closed his eyes, covering his face with his hands. Nope. Couldn’t unsee the sadness in Everly’s expression. Or the way her backbone had gone ramrod straight and she’d pulled on that goddamn titanium shield. She was the toughest woman he’d ever met. It was all kinds of attractive, but it also kept her slightly removed. A bit untouchable. Definitely untouchable. He had to remind himself of that all too often. Quiet, a little socially awkward from what he could tell, and very talented, she was like invisible lightning. When he was near her, energy burst through his veins, making him abnormally tongue-tied. You’re her boss. Who has one foot out the door.
Her angry, on-air confession ran through his head again. The listeners would get over that. Most would laugh it off, not that there was one funny thing about it. Remembering the humiliated tinge of her voice carved a hole in his gut. Professionally, the dead air was a slightly bigger problem. It shouldn’t be a big deal—glitches happened. But his father kept him under a microscope, waiting for him to screw up, for any chance to tell Chris that he hadn’t earned his right to ascend the ranks. He hadn’t worked this hard, come this far, to have something minor block him from the prize.
His door slammed open, and Stacey Ryan stood in the opening, hands on her hips, glaring at him like somehow he was the enemy.
“This was my fault. I overstepped, but you shouldn’t have sent her home. You know how good she is at her job. How much it means to her,” she started, her gaze burning into his brain stronger than the headache.
He knew, but only because the deejay told him. Whenever he was around Everly, they did an awkward dance of him offering curt sentences and her giving back polite nods.
Chris loosened his tie, wishing the windows in his office actually opened so he could get some fresh air. “I didn’t send her home to be a jerk. This is better than having to field calls about her goddamn love life to all the people who are already phoning in. She’d hate that, and you know it.” He pointed at her and stood up, pacing the pathetically small room.
The thought of Everly having a love life unsettled his stomach. It had to be some sort of karmic irony that he met a woman who intrigued him more than any other at a time when keeping his eye on the end goal mattered more than ever.
The phone hadn’t stopped ringing since Everly’s detailed confession. What the hell kind of idiot would cheat on that woman? He thought of his father and cringed. On any woman. But especially someone like Everly. She was five and a half feet of pure awesome, and maybe he didn’t tell her that—he had no right—but the guys in this town couldn’t be stupid enough not to realize it on their own. She was better off without Simon the asshat. He just hoped she knew that.
“So far, the calls have been in her favor. They want to help her and maybe strip Simon of his boy parts,” Stacey said.
Chris winced. The laugh that burst from his chest turned into a sigh. He leaned against the low windowsill. Stacey stayed in the doorway, crossing her arms over her chest. The two women couldn’t be more different, but he knew they were good friends. Stacey was about the only person at the station who’d broken through Everly’s well-built walls.
“She wouldn’t want that either. What were you thinking, going live like that? She constantly shies away from being in the limelight, but you thought it’d be a good idea to put her on the radio?” Everly spoke on-air now and again when she and Stacey went back and forth about something or she told Stacey who was calling in, but those times were few and far between.
Guilt flashed across her features. “She wasn’t supposed to be on the air.” Stacey’s shoulders slumped. “She hates birthdays. I wanted to do something fun that might get her excited for the big three-oh. I thought it’d be funny and she’d get dozens of shout-outs from listeners on social media.”
Chris sent her a wry grin. “That’s already happening.”
She nodded, her eyes studying the carpet. “Not exactly the way I’d hoped.”
There was probably a protocol to deal with the deejay’s lack of professionalism, but Chris wasn’t looking to make her feel worse. Though, in the end, he wasn’t in charge, and his father was looking for ways to point out his failings. The ratings needed to go up, not down—particularly in this segment.
He didn’t want to discuss this anymore. He needed some air, a drink, a hard run … something. Pushing off the sill, he walked closer to Stacey. “It’ll be okay. We’ll field the calls and comments, and it’ll go away. Isn’t it quitting time for you?”
“Pretty soon. I’m getting some things ready for tomorrow, then I’m going to go and buy Everly five pounds of chocolate, a six-pack of wine coolers, and a really big vib—”
“Don’t,” Chris groaned, his lips twitching, “finish that sentence.”
Stacey grinned unabashedly. The phones continued to ring, and he knew their listening audience—mostly women in the fifty-five-plus age bracket—would love the chance to share their opinions.
“Well, I’m heading out. I have a meeting with a couple of new sponsors.” He hesitated, tried to infuse his tone with a casualness he didn’t feel. “You think Everly is okay?”
Stacey regarded him for a moment, and Chris had to work hard to keep from giving anything away. Boss and employee. Practically strangers. He was just asking for a friend. Wasn’t that what all the cool kids said? How the hell would you know what they say? The truth was, he’d never cared much about what others thought of him. But he cared about what Everly thought. And if she was all right.
“Yes.” Stacey’s expression didn’t match the certainty of her tone.
“I didn’t mean to make her birthday worse.”
“I’m not even sure that’s possible,” Stacey said in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
He hadn’t even known it was her birthday. Because she never talks to you! And he never asked. It was easier to keep a wide berth between them. The attraction he felt—which he was quite certain she did not reciprocate—had been almost instantaneous.
After another uncomfortable minute of Stacey looking at him too closely, she left. Chris tunneled his fingers into his hair. Never mind the dead air, if his father got wind of his … whatever he felt toward Everly, it’d be one more excuse to prolong his purgatory. Chris had no intention of staying in San Verde, California. He loved the weather, but this city wasn’t on anyone’s list of most important places to see. While his father hadn’t exactly asked if he’d wanted to come here, the station was the most intriguing subsidiary of the communications corporation his father had bought. Career came first, and he couldn’t change that for a shy woman who made his chest feel too tight when he wasn’t even sticking around.
Chris fought the urge to pace or, worse, call Everly. He had an hour or so before his first meeting. H
e couldn’t spend it thinking about Everly, so he did what he was used to, what he was good at—he buried himself in work.
* * *
Despite the fact that San Verde was a smallish town, it had its perks. Though he wished it were on the water, the ocean was only an hour away. The cost of living was a lot better than bigger cities, and there were some excellent restaurants. The one where he’d just had lunch—and signed on new sponsors—had a chocolate-caramel pie that made his mouth water.
He glanced over to the passenger side, still unsure why he’d asked for an extra to go. Right. You’re so unsure you’re already heading toward her place. He’d felt slightly guilty looking up her address but told himself it was her birthday. She deserved something to turn it around. Chris couldn’t stand the thought of Everly’s entire day being ruined. Was she hurt—or worse, heartbroken—over Simon? None of your business. Not only was there a strict no-fraternization policy at the station, it’d be one more strike his father could put next to his name.
Parking across the street from her apartment building he grabbed the dessert and got out of the car. Maybe you should call her, let her know you’re coming. I’m not visiting. Just dropping off some deliciousness and seeing for myself that she’s okay.
He hesitated after only a step. Everly didn’t strike him as a “drop in anytime” sort of person. Leaning against his vehicle, he thumbed a text.
Okay if I drop by to talk to you?
A couple of kids were drawing chalk rainbows on the sidewalk. It made him smile and think of Manhattan. It wasn’t something he saw there since there were too many people hurrying along the pavement to get any good sidewalk space.
There were lots of things—like crowds—that he didn’t miss about living in a big city. Streets like this one, lined with blossoming trees and a sense of calm, made him think about how nice it’d be to come home every night to a place like this. Unfortunately, towns like this didn’t come with high-powered firms that specialized in corporate communications.
Ten Rules for Faking It Page 3
