Chapter 15
“We’re live from Esmeralda’s Pancake House, raising money for the good folks at Central City Food Bank.” Charley dodged a fast-moving intern balancing a tray on her shoulder. “The staff and personalities of Eagle 101.5 are here to serve up some scrumptious food and collect money for a great cause. We’ll be here for another hour and a half, so if you’ve longed for Ruby Barnett or Beau Treble to serve you up a waffle, your dream can come true today, folks. We’re at 515 Flanders Avenue. Hurry over and have breakfast with us. Charley Layton, sending it back to Freddy in the studio.”
As Charley set the microphone on the table, a familiar face came rushing into the restaurant. “There she is, Brenda. That’s Charley right there.”
“I know what she looks like, Sharlene. You were right. She is prettier in person.”
Sharlene of the awkward ice cream shop encounter all but bounced Charley’s way. “Remember me?” she asked. “From the other night?”
When a person had a fan club of one, she tended to remember. “Of course I do,” she replied. Turning to the curvy woman with cherry-blonde hair, she added, “And you must be Brenda.”
“I am!” she exclaimed. “How did you know?”
“Good guess,” Charley replied with a smile. “Are you ladies here for breakfast?”
“We sure are. Which tables are you serving?” Sharlene asked.
Sorry to disappoint them, she pointed to the microphone. “I’m currently handling the live spots, but Ruby is taking care of the first several tables by the window.”
“Did I hear my name taken in vain?” the morning hostess interrupted. “How you ladies doing?”
Neither of Charley’s fans appeared as excited to see Ruby as they’d been to see her. “We’re great,” Brenda said. “But we were hoping Charley would be our waitress this morning.”
“Well, why can’t she be?” Ruby asked.
“I’m doing the live spots,” she explained. Since Charley hadn’t been at the station long, the assumption had been that listeners wouldn’t want a lesser-known personality as their server. That left Charley on broadcast duty.
Ruby waved her words away. “Don’t be silly. I can do this. These ladies came all the way down here to have you slap some pancakes in front of them, and by golly, that’s what they’ll get.” Sharlene and Brenda danced with excitement as an apron got tossed over Charley’s head. “Now y’all have a seat right at that first table, and Miss Layton here will deliver your menus in one second.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Brenda led the way as the ladies hurried to take their seats.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble?” Charley asked. “John made it clear that I’m not supposed to serve.”
While tying the narrow strings behind Charley’s back, Ruby drawled, “Rule number twenty-three, honey child. Never hide your best assets when there’s money to be made. If in the eyes of those ladies you’re our best asset, then tote your scrawny little ass over there and make some money.”
“But—”
“I’ll take care of Willoughby.” Ruby spun her around and shoved two menus at her chest. “Have you ever waited tables before?”
“I used to carry around trays of cookies at church gatherings.”
“Close enough.” Tucking a pen over Charley’s left ear, she said, “Everything is right there on the menu. Take the order. Talk ’em up. Collect the cash. Think you can do that?”
Slightly offended, she grabbed a notepad off the counter behind her. “I’m not an idiot, Ruby. The next break is in ten minutes. Someone needs to call Freddy and let him know he won’t be cutting to me.”
“Where are you going?” asked the program manager as Charley turned toward her customers.
“Personal request,” Ruby answered for her. “We’re here to give the people what they want, and those two ladies over there want our newest addition.”
John appeared skeptical. “I didn’t realize you were so popular.”
“I didn’t, either,” Charley mumbled. “Better not keep them waiting.” Circling her boss, she crossed the short distance to Brenda and Sharlene and set a menu in front of each of them. “What can I get you ladies to drink?”
“Water for me,” Brenda replied.
Sharlene said, “I’ll have some orange juice. You must be walking on air after last night.”
“Last night?” she asked, making note of their drinks.
“That kiss!” Brenda all but shouted. The woman seemed to have two volumes—loud and louder. “It’s all over the Internet. I’ve watched the video three times this morning already.”
Freezing with her pen above her paper, Charley cut her gaze from one smiling fan to the other. “There’s video?”
Sharlene giggled as she picked up her phone. “Girl, let me show you. Though you lived it, so I guess you know better than anyone what happened.”
Seconds later, Charley stared at Sharlene’s phone screen as Dylan Monroe planted a passionate kiss on her lips, and she all but threw herself at him. When they finally broke apart, the crowd went wild, and the video cut off.
Stunned into silence, she didn’t know whether to curse or cry. Being in the spotlight sent chills of panic down her spine, but until that moment, Charley had never contemplated the concept of going viral.
“Did you say all over the Internet?”
“I’ve seen it on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter,” Brenda said. “And my daughter saw it on Snapchat.”
Scrunching up her nose, Sharlene said, “For the life of me, I cannot figure that snap thing out.”
“Kenzie has tried to teach me,” Brenda lamented, “but I don’t get it, either.”
Charley had an account on all the usual sites, but she rarely checked them unless she was on the air and needed something to talk about.
“By the way,” Sharlene whispered conspiratorially, “you weren’t tagged in a few of the posts I saw, so I went ahead and did it for you.”
A nervous laugh escaped Charley’s lips. “I appreciate that. I’m going to grab your drinks, and I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure,” they said in stereo.
Returning to the table where she’d left Ruby, Charley said, “Have you been online today?”
The redhead flashed a wicked grin. “That was one hell of a kiss, girlfriend.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Ruby picked up the microphone. “Tell you what? That you got kissed off your feet by the hottest thing to come out of Louisiana since Tim McGraw? I assumed you knew.”
“Not that part,” Charley hissed. “I didn’t know it was on video.”
“Nothing happens in this world anymore that isn’t caught on camera from at least three different angles.” The older woman turned down the radio to her right. “I thought that might be the Dylan you met last weekend. Looks like you hit the jackpot, chickie.”
“Wait. You knew?”
Instead of answering, Ruby went live. “Good morning, guys and dolls. This is your friend Ruby Barnett coming to you live from Esmeralda’s Pancake House here in East Nashville, where the Eagle 101.5 staff is working their little tootsies off to rake in all the cash we can for the Central City Food Bank. If you come in now, you can plant your tookus at one of Charley Layton’s tables, and maybe she’ll tell you what it’s like to kiss the hunky Dylan Monroe. I think we all want to know what that’s like, am I right, ladies?”
Tossing up her hands, Charley marched off toward the kitchen, where she bumped into Payton Cheswick, one of Ruby’s sidekicks on the morning show.
“Layton, you sly dog,” he said. “I know that cutie Monroe doesn’t swing my way, but damn, I’m still jealous. You work fast, girlfriend. High five.”
Annoyed, Charley left him hanging. “I don’t want to talk about Dylan.”
“Why?” Payton asked, following her to the drink station. “That kiss is all anyone is talking about. Hell, I bet his record sales have doubled overnight.”
Charley filled two cups with ice. “We didn’t kiss to sell records.”
“That’s not what I meant. Come on,” he pressed. “Why are you mad?”
Water sloshed onto the counter as she slammed down the clear pitcher. “I’m all over the Internet lip-locking some guy in front of an audience. How is anyone going to take me seriously after that? I’m a professional, dammit. Now I look like a . . . a groupie. Willoughby already treats me like a puppy he has to house-sit until my owners return. What if he uses this to get rid of me?”
Without warning, Payton dragged Charley to the far side of the kitchen and looked around as if making sure they were alone.
“If you tell Ruby I said any of the things about to come out of my mouth, I’ll deny it to my dying day. The truth is, Charley, you’re better on the air than folks who’ve been doing this gig almost as long as you’ve been alive. Ruby couldn’t hold a candle to you if she hadn’t been doing this since Jesus was knee-high to a camel, and Willoughby is only the program manager because he sucks on the air.” Glancing around one more time, Payton lowered his voice. “You’re a natural, darling, and nothing makes radio people more jealous than someone who can slap on those headphones and do what you do.”
Blinking, Charley struggled to process this information. “You really think they’re jealous?”
Perfectly manicured brows shot up a wrinkle-free forehead. “Sugar, I know they’re jealous. You’re in no danger of going anywhere. I’ll admit, fraternizing with the artist types is usually frowned upon, but the higher-ups love you. And this Dylan Monroe stuff? That’s already landing your name in the news, which in turn brings the station free publicity. That’s a win all the way around.”
So in some weird way, both she and Dylan had benefited professionally thanks to one spontaneous kiss. If she examined that fact too closely, the whole thing would feel tawdry and shallow, so she focused on Payton’s compliments about her talent. Deep down, Charley knew she was good, but in Kentucky she’d been a big fish in a tiny pond. In Nashville, she often felt like a minnow swimming with the sharks.
Turned out, she wasn’t a measly minnow after all.
“Well then,” Charley said, making her way back to the drinks. “I guess going viral isn’t the end of the world.”
“And I bet kissing Dylan Monroe isn’t, either,” he hinted.
Flashing a smile, she cleaned up her mess. “It is not, Payton. It definitely is not.”
By the time Dylan arrived at Charley’s place, he’d had one of the strangest days on record.
First thing in the morning, he’d been summoned for a meeting with Mitch, Clay, and the label publicist, Naomi Mallard. At first, he’d feared the worst. That stations had started playing the song and received so many complaints that they’d taken it off the air. To his relief, Dylan’s imagination had been way off.
The entire conversation had revolved around social media. Dylan had the accounts and posted from time to time, but he didn’t live by the latest trend in his newsfeed or feel lost if he hadn’t checked Instagram in a couple of days. According to Naomi Mallard, that had to change. Or at least his amount of personal postings did.
According to the publicist, a heartfelt moment intended to win Charley’s forgiveness had turned into an Internet sensation. Several fans had caught the kiss on video, and by morning, Dylan was trending, the video had been shared thousands of times, and his number of followers was shooting up on every platform. In some cases, triple what he’d had the day before.
Clay and Naomi were ecstatic about the new development, while Mitch feigned approval. Dylan couldn’t help but wonder what Charley thought of the whole thing.
Her spotlight comment kept coming back to him. Charley didn’t like attention. Considering her response when Ruby had dragged her onstage in front of two thousand people, there was no telling how she’d react to being seen by twenty thousand overnight. His afternoon text to check on her hadn’t alleviated his concerns, either. Charley’s only response had been a question about what to wear that evening. Dylan had to ask Naomi, since he had no idea what to tell a woman to wear to anything.
The answer came back cocktail dress, and he’d passed it along, receiving an ambiguous “Okay” in response. Whether it had been an I-can-do-that okay or a fucking-great okay, Dylan didn’t know, so his heart lurched into his throat as he knocked on her door.
A full thirty seconds later, the thing finally opened, and Matty the Dragon offered a cold yet noncombative greeting. “Come on in. Charley is almost ready.”
“Thanks,” he replied, stepping inside and hovering near the door. “You look . . . comfortable.”
Not the greatest compliment, but he was trying.
“Unlike Charley, I have a date with Netflix.” She settled on the couch and grabbed a bowl of popcorn off the coffee table. No invitation to sit was offered, so Dylan continued to stand. Rocking on his heels, he straightened his tie before leaning against the wall to wait. A couple of minutes later, he was rewarded for his patience as Charley descended the staircase wearing a solid blue dress that hugged her curves, stopped midthigh, and revealed enough cleavage to be tasteful yet still make his mouth water.
Simple black heels finished off the look, turning her legs into objects of perfection. By the time she met him at the bottom, Dylan’s brain had turned to mush, and his dress pants had grown uncomfortably tight.
“Sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find one of my earrings.” She pointed to a tiny gold hoop, and Dylan resisted the urge to drop a kiss below it. “Are we ready?” Charley asked when he made no move to leave.
Speech failed him, so he nodded and reached for the door.
“Try not to make the evening news,” Matty quipped around a bite of popcorn.
Charley ignored the snarky comment, leading Dylan out of the apartment. They reached the truck without exchanging another word, but before opening her door, there was one thing he had to do. Locking his hands on her satin-covered hips, he took her mouth with his, relaying every emotion churning through his system—from lust and longing to admiration and pride.
When he pulled away, her hand lay against his cheek, and her eyes smiled into his. “So the dress was the right choice, then?”
Dylan nodded. “The dress is perfect, but only because you’re wearing it.”
“That’s the second-nicest thing anyone has said to me today.”
He glared in challenge. “Who’s been flirting with my girl?”
Straightening his lapel, she shook her head. “Payton would rather flirt with you than with me, but he said something nice about my skills as a DJ, and I value an observation about my brain a little more than one about my body. Not that I don’t appreciate the compliment. Or the sexy man who gave it.”
He wiggled his brows. “You think I’m sexy?”
“I do.” She grinned.
“I’m getting a sense that you aren’t mad about our make-out session going viral.”
“Not sure mad is the right word. I was more embarrassed than anything, but then I remembered what led to the kiss, and I figured there were worse ways to become famous on the Internet.”
“Much worse ways.” Dylan laughed, opening the passenger door. “Watching you climb up here might be the best part of my night.”
Charley smacked him playfully on the chest. “Don’t be ogling my legs.”
“You can’t show ’em off that pretty and expect a man not to ogle.”
Her husky chuckle aroused him almost as much as the heels. “Play your cards right, and I might let you do more than ogle before the night is over.”
For a brief moment, Dylan considered skipping the dinner altogether. But if he did that, he’d be proving Mitch right, and he wasn’t about to give his manager the satisfaction. Even for a few extra hours of Charley naked beneath him.
After dropping a hard kiss on her lips, he lifted her into the truck, eliciting a surprised yelp from his gorgeous date and scoring a delicious peek under her skirt.
“I’m holding you to that promise, Layton,” he said, enjoying her carefree laughter as he closed the door.