Page 20 of The Hook Up
Ty looked at her like she had three heads.
“Oh, you wanted words that made sense?” She managed a weak little smile, then licked her lips and tried again. “Hi, I’m Ellie Sanders.” Her voice wobbled a little on the last syllable, and she had no clue what to say next. “Um—I like carrots, thunderstorms, and the smell of bark dust.”
Dear God, she sounded like a contestant on a bad dating show. The lights blazed around her, but she was chilled to the bone.
Ty grinned, glancing away once to adjust something on the camera.
“Tell me the name of your company,” he said.
“Madame Butterfly.”
Yay! I got one right.
“And what do they sell?” he prompted. Then he gave her a small smile. “Besides bowling balls, I mean.”
Ellie laughed. Well, she tried. She choked on her own spit.
Ty whacked her on the back, careful not to hit the mic thingy. “Are you okay?”
Ellie nodded and sputtered. She was the worst on-camera client in the history of all time. Ty moved his hand from her back and seemed to hesitate there for a moment. Probably thinking about suggesting a nice brochure or e-newsletter. Anything that didn’t involve Ellie being in front of a camera.
He turned and grabbed a high-backed barstool identical to the one Ellie was sitting on. He dragged it over so he was sitting beside her. When he spoke, his voice sounded low and soothing.
“I can tell the camera is making you nervous,” he said.
Ellie rolled her eyes. “You think?”
“I get it,” he said. “I’m prone to stage fright, too. I hate talking in front of crowds. Or doing any kind of public presentation.”
The confession put her at ease a little. Ellie took a few deep breaths, hoping to make the dizziness go away. “I’m sorry. I feel dumb.”
“Don’t. We just need to make you more comfortable.” He smiled and scooted a little closer. Their knees almost touched. “How about we try this. I’m just going to sit right here, and we’re going to chat like normal people.”
“You mean normal people who don’t forget their own names and choke on saliva?”
“Something like that.”
Ellie spit a hunk of hair out of her mouth and glanced at the camera again. “I’m horrible at this.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
“Really?”
He paused for a moment, and Ellie figured he was rethinking his assertion. “I didn’t start out in marketing,” he said. “I was a mass communications specialist making videos in the Navy.”
“I didn’t know the Navy had videos.”
“Yeah, training stuff, documentation, that sort of thing. Anyway, I had to interview this vice-admiral once for a piece we were doing on tactical operations.” His voice rumbled low and soothing, and Ellie leaned into it. “Admiral Branson insisted on standing, even though the angle we’d set up had him sitting on a bench. And anytime one of us would open our mouths to offer any kind of feedback, he’d bark at us to stay quiet unless he told us it was okay to speak.”
“Sounds like kind of a jerk.” Ellie’s shoulders started to relax, and she leaned back a little in her chair, eager to hear the rest of his story.
“Yeah, the military’s full of guys like that.” Ty smiled. “A few seconds after the camera starts rolling, I notice the guy’s fly is down. Not just a little, either. Like gaping open, showing off his tighty-whiteys. I raise my hand and say, ‘Pardon me, sir—’ That’s all I managed to get out before he barked at me to ‘Shut it, son!’ Told me if he heard another word out of me, he’d have me written up.”
“What did you do?”
Ty shrugged. “What could I do? I tried giving him the universal, ‘barn door’s open’ signal, but he was staring straight ahead and into the camera. When he finished up, I tried to tell him about his wardrobe malfunction. I was going to give him the chance to reshoot.”
“Was he embarrassed?” Ellie crossed her legs, so engrossed in the story she’d nearly forgotten the spotlights and camera.
