Page 3 of Geek in the Streets
The sound guy glances up, a little startled, then shrugs one rounded shoulder. He’s dressed in a faded black Metallica t-shirt, and he smells faintly of Doritos. “Sure, man. Seemed fine to me.”
I nod, turning slightly to give him better access to the wires running down my back beneath my suit jacket. “Good. Thank you.”
The sound guy pulls the mic pack off my belt with a snap. And apparently he feels the need to reassure me more, because he lingers and adds: “I mean, my mom and all my aunts cream their pants whenever you come on screen. They love your whole nerdy gentleman thing.”
Heat floods my cheeks.
“That’s great,” I say weakly. “Very kind of them.”
I’m sorry I ever asked.
“Keep it up.” The sound guy punches my shoulder lightly, then slopes his way back toward the mic station. I watch him go, squinting against the bright lights.
It’s better once I step off the weather stage, moving back into the relative shadows of the main floor. Bright spots burn in my vision, fading slowly as I make my way to the snack table at the edge of the studio.
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes until I do all that again, with any updates that have happened in the meantime. But first: peppermint tea. And with any luck…
“Shelley,” I blurt.
She’s by the coffee machine, arms folded and foot tapping, glaring at her cup as it fills like that might scare it into going faster. Her curly red hair is tied back in a short ponytail, and her pink lips are pursed.
When she hears her name, Shelley looks up and beams, all the irritation melting clean off her beautiful face. This is one of the many things I love about Shelley: she gets frustrated with inanimate objects, but never people. With people, she’s a goddamn angel, always smiling and sweet.
“That went well,” she chirps, answering the question of whether she watched my segment this morning. Does she watch every time? Does she ever watch it on her TV at home? “Your powder held up just fine under the lights. Great forecast, too.”
“Hey, it’s good weather.” My hand trembles slightly as I reach for a clean mug. Probably leftover adrenaline from being live on air. Not the low level stress of standing next to the most beautiful woman alive. No, sir. “Everyone loves good weather. Can’t take the credit for a sunny day.”
Shelley hums and tops up her coffee with milk. “True. But at least you can’t be blamed for hurricanes either.”
I shrug.
“Oh, I don’t know. The studio gets some crazy letters sometimes. There’s one old fella out in the hills who is one hundred percent sure I’m a male witch, and that I keep summoning heat waves to dry out his veg patch.”
Shelley laughs. My pulse spikes as her green eyes narrow playfully on mine. “And are you, Dallas Adams? Are you a witch?”
A shiver of pleasure rolls down my spine when she says my full name. It’s like she’s claiming me out loud, or something. Or maybe she just likes the ring to it.
Either way, I forget to blink whenever I’m looking at Shelley. She’s the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen in my whole life—and I’ve seen a lot of sunsets.
I tap my nose. “Family secret.”
Shelley snorts then sips her coffee.
And I swear, if I ever had a chance with this girl… if I ever got to be alone with her,reallyalone, if I could tell her how I feel…
But no, no point thinking like that. An angel like Shelley would never fall for a nerdy weatherman—she probably likes tough guys who ride motorbikes and shoot tin cans off walls for fun, not men who pore over weather charts in their spare time.
Besides, we’re at work. The last thing I’d ever want to do is make Shelley uncomfortable.
So I should stop staring at her like she’s the oasis in my personal desert. Clearing my throat, I turn to the peppermint tea bags and top my mug up with steaming water.
Behind us, the studio is as hectic as ever—a maelstrom of organized chaos. I sure am glad that I’m not the one in charge, because it’s a non-stop cycle of news, weather, and interviews,with no chance to stop for breath. Already, I need to prep for my next turn on air.
“Can’t believe you do this all without coffee,” Shelley says, side-eyeing me as she sips from her mug again. As the hot liquid slides down her throat, she teases me with a long, loud,filthymoan.
My abs tense with arousal beneath my shirt. My whole body is on edge, rigid with want, because of thatsound.That gosh darn sound. It’s going to play on a loop in my head for weeks.
I blink, dazed.
