Total pages in book: 160
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 155798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 779(@200wpm)___ 623(@250wpm)___ 519(@300wpm)
I was kicking myself because I should’ve recognized him when he spoke.
I was glad I hadn’t in the moment. My reaction would’ve been worse. I’d already made a fool of myself. He thought there was something wrong with me. The first guy in ten years who’d made me feel something though… I didn’t know what he thought. Nothing good, I’m sure.
“Okay, sweetiekins.” The makeup guy stepped back to admire his work. “You are back to being gorgeous! And you’re just in time for your segment.”
“What?” But we were moving, a staff person drawing me along—off the chair, down a hallway. I heard the audience applauding, and I saw him again.
Brett Broudou.
A shiver went through me.
He was delicious.
He stood to the side, off-camera, talking with a bunch of the show people. That made sense now. That had probably been his agent or manager next to him, the other guy in a business suit.
The staffer brought us to a stop.
I felt Brett’s eyes coming my way.
I felt the punch of them landing on me, and oh boy, my body heated all over again.
This wasn’t good. Just a look and I was hot and bothered?
“Okay!” The staff person touched the small of my back and pushed. “You’re on, Willow.”
I started but looked back. “My name isn’t—” I didn’t go by that name. I went by Billie. It was the nickname my little brother gave me. He could tell the host through their earpieces, and I wouldn’t have to endure being called Willow during the whole interview. Only when I tried to tell him that, my feet weren’t paying attention.
One kept going.
The other started to turn back.
They twisted and slam! Down I went.
Or I would’ve gone down.
The audience gasped.
A few cursed.
I felt myself melting into a puddle of shame. All the work they did to make me look good and this? I was a disaster.
A pair of hands caught me.
It was happening in slow motion and my heart literally did a backwards flip in my chest.
I was held before being lifted up against a strong and massive chest.
My throat was up in my mouth.
I didn’t know what to do because part of me didn’t want to pull away because I knew who had caught me and I didn’t want to pull away from him. Who would? And the other part was already thinking about what happened, where it happened, and oh no.
I hoped that hadn’t been caught by the camera, but then I was being lifted back to my feet and released from the chest behind me.
It was like magic.
I knew, but I hadn’t known. Though, I knew.
Brett Broudou was standing in front of me.
The defensive end out of Cal U who never played football in high school but got recruited because he’d been scrimmaging with the right guys at the right place, right time, and a scout saw him. Saw his size. Saw his speed. Saw his reflexes, and he was asked to try out. He got a full scholarship and then went on to college stardom. Cal U won the National Championship, and Brett went in the first round of the draft to Kansas City. He was given a five-year contract, and they kept renewing until he’d come to the Texas Kings last year. He’d been a perfect combination with Stone Reeves, Jake Bilson, and Colby Doubard. The Kings were going to be unstoppable.
And he was still touching me. On television.
“I—” I couldn’t talk. My face felt so hot. I was going to break out in splotches all over again.
He gave me the kindest smile, which almost broke my heart because I knew it must’ve been filled with pity. “They’re waiting for you.”
Right.
Interview.
I jerked around, smoothed a hand over my hair, and strode out.
The host had stood from her table, starting to come toward me. I waved her back. “I’m good. I’m so sorry about that.”
She laughed, and the audience joined in. Everything was getting back to normal. Though, God, how humiliating.
She extended a hand for me to take a seat, and as I did, I smiled, hoping to hide my mortification. “I can be clumsy sometimes. I’m sorry again.”
“No, no. As long as you’re okay?” Her eyes held mine.
I managed a nod. I’d blanked on her name.
The back of my neck was so hot.
She turned to the audience and started our interview. “Ladies and gentlemen, Willow Harm is the only person to have come face-to-face with the infamous serial killer known as the Midwest Butcher. She is the survivor who helped bring him down. Welcome to the show, Willow.”
2
BILLIE
Lo: How’d the interview go??? I recorded it so I can watch it when I get home.
I’d escaped the stage in one piece, my interview complete. Now I was back in the green room, trying to remember how to breathe normally and staring at my phone.