Taste (Cloverleigh Farms, #7)(19)

Hadley rolled her eyes. “Wine again. No one cares.”

Fiona sighed. “I’ll be frank. We don’t have anyone on the list who’d get the attention you would—and that means better ad dollars for us. I only just started watching Lick My Plate in the last couple weeks or I’d have approached you sooner. And I hate to say this, because Ellie seems very knowledgeable and we always love to feature women in the industry, but I really need a name. What do you say? Can I call you later this week? Set up an interview and photo shoot?”

“Do it,” prodded Hadley.

For a moment, I entertained the idea—being on a magazine cover would be pretty cool, and my agent would love it. Maybe Fiona was right, and the publicity would mean I could ask for more in negotiations with the network who wanted me to sign a contract with them . . . not only more money, but more creative control, more of a say in my role on the show, or maybe a different show altogether. I’d be little more than a prop on Hot Mess.

But the thought of a bunch of Hadleys running around with my name on their sweatpants was a little weird.

And accepting Fiona’s offer would crush Ellie.

I shook my head. “Look, I appreciate the offer, but I have to say—”

Fiona held up a hand. “Don’t answer yet. Take a few days and think about it. I realize I just ambushed you on your way out into a storm.”

“I don’t really need to—”

“The issue won’t come out until June, so we don’t have to shoot you until spring.” Fiona moved past me and pulled the door open. Snow rushed in on a blast of cold air, and Hadley shivered. “Be careful out there. I’ll be in touch this week.”

“Wait!” Hadley ran at me. “Can I have a hug?”

I was nearly knocked over backward when she threw her arms around me, but I recovered my balance and awkwardly tapped her back once with a gloved hand.

“And a selfie?” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out her phone, snapping a bunch of photos of us before I even registered what was happening. “Thanks!”

“No problem.” I ducked out the door before she could ask me for anything else.

Hurrying toward my SUV through the wind and snow, I yanked the door open and slid behind the wheel. The interior was cozy and warm, and the windows were fogged up. Ellie was staring out the passenger window, arms crossed over her chest. She didn’t even look at me when I got in.

I tossed my gloves in the back seat and pulled the check from my pocket. “Here. She paid us extra.”

Ellie took the check from me without a word, stuck it in the bag at her feet, and resumed her previous pose.

“Are you mad at me?”

“Just drive.”

“Not until we talk this out.”

“I don’t want to talk, Gianni. There’s nothing to say, and the longer we sit here, the worse the storm is going to get.”

“I can’t even see,” I told her, switching the defroster to blow cool air. “You’re so steaming mad at me, you fogged up the windows.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“No?” I cracked a window and she did the same.

“No. I’m just . . . mad.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yes.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself as the air in the front seat grew icy cold and snow blew in. “I know you did me a favor by making the drive, I know my dad felt better knowing I wasn’t alone on the road, and I know everyone had a much better time at dinner with you there than they would have had with just me. So thanks, and let’s just leave it at that.”

I was silent a moment. “I thought you did a great job, and I’m sorry you didn’t get more chances to talk about what you do.”

“Well, who wants to listen to me talk about wine when they can listen to you tell tales of reality TV?” She blew a raspberry like Hadley had. “Bor-ing.”

“I didn’t think you were boring. And they loved the actual wines. That’s good, right?”

“You were supposed to stay in the background!” she burst out, finally looking over at me. “It was my show for once, not yours!”

“I tried! Swear to God, Ellie, I tried—they just kept passing me the puck.”

“And you had to shoot instead of pass it back?”

I opened my mouth to defend myself and closed it again. Hadn’t I sort of done what she was accusing me of? Told all my best stories? Landed all my favorite jokes? Charmed the women and bumped elbows with the men? It was my usual way when I was in front of a crowd.

I held up my hands. “You’re right. I’m sorry, okay? Once I get going, it’s hard to turn it off. I don’t know how to do anything else. I thought I was helping you by entertaining them.”

“Forget it. Let’s just go home.”

I could tell nothing I said was going to cheer her up tonight, and possibly the more I talked, the more I might upset her. I didn’t want to offer false hope about the 30 Under 30 spot, now that I knew it wouldn’t be offered to her—although I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her Fiona had offered it to me. Not tonight, anyway.

Exhaling, I rolled up the windows, and slowly swung around so I could pull forward down the long drive. Snow crunched beneath the tires. At the foot of the driveway, the street wasn’t visible. No other vehicles were on the road.