a look with Georgie. “A champagne, what?”
This was news to him.
Hector handed the Kleenex box to a passing production assistant. “You silly things, of course, we’re going to celebrate. And what better way than to celebrate with champagne!”
“And CityBeat will be there to share in this happy day!” Bobby added.
“CityBeat will be there?” Jordan asked, coming to his feet.
Bobby held out his phone. “Yes, look at these stats. The world loves you guys. And with your More Than Just a Number blog growing, this is exactly the type of content you need to share with your subscribers.”
Content?
His proposal was a hell of a lot more than merely content for their newsfeed. Sure, he loved their More Than Just a Number blog. He valued every person who chose to subscribe. It was their platform, their vision, and they wanted to help and inspire people. But their blog wasn’t a voyeuristic site intent on broadcasting every facet of their lives.
He was about to set the record straight when the production assistant, who he’d almost punched into next week thanks to that whole you’re hot mix-up, approached the group.
“Sorry, folks, but we need you off the set so we can set up for the Taco Tuesday segment.”
“Jordan and I aren’t doing our segments?” Georgie asked as two large men lifted the couch she’d been sitting on while another burly man rolled out a table on squeaky wheels.
The kid shifted his stance. “Sorry, your whole waffle wedding proposal took the place of it.”
“Waffle wedding proposal?” Jordan repeated as Georgie’s expression grew pained, which hit him like a punch to the gut.
Dammit! He’d shared the whole engagement idea with the Wake-Up Denver producer a couple of days ago. Still, the man hadn’t mentioned anything about cutting the educational component of their time on-air.
Georgie produced a grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand,” she answered, then lifted a sleeping Mr. Tuesday off the ground and into her arms.
They followed the production assistant off the set as a woman buzzed past them, removing their mics then flitted away toward the chefs standing at the taco set.
Being in this place was starting to feel like a continual case of whiplash. He pressed his hand to the small of Georgie’s back and followed the CityBeat wedding brigade off the set when Becca met them in the hallway.
“Congratulations! Let’s see this ring!” Georgie’s friend exclaimed.
“No time!” Hector called, waving them forward. “Do the doggie switcheroo, and then we need to be off.”
Georgie looked from Mr. Tuesday to Becca. “Do you mind taking him home? I’m not exactly sure what’s happening at the…”
“Why, we’re all headed to the Denver Palace Hotel! The perfect place for the prince and princess of CityBeat!” Hector supplied.
Jordan looked between the blog site founders. “You guys can’t be serious with this whole prince and princess thing?”
“That’s what the Belgian Waffle Princess dubbed you guys, and it seems to be trending online along with Emperor of Asshattery,” Barry said, tilting his phone for them to see the post.
“You know what that means,” Hector said, rubbing his hands together.
Jordan shared a look with Georgie, who shook her head.
“No, we have no idea what it means,” he answered.
“Tiaras!” Hector breathed with a wild glint in his eyes. “We need to start investigating tiaras, pronto, Bobby.”
Georgie stiffened. “I think I’d like to skip the car ride over.”
“Whatever for?” Bobby asked, concern etched on his face.
“The Palace Hotel isn’t far from here, and I could use a meandering walk,” she answered, and Jordan’s heart jumped into his throat.
Georgiana Jensen’s meandering walks meant she had something weighing on her mind, most likely due to the over-sized engagement ring sparkling on her go-fuck-yourself finger. But, truth be told, he could use a break from tissues, TV, and tiaras, too.
Georgie passed Mr. Tuesday over to Becca, and the women began to talk dog logistics as he gestured for Bobby, Hector, and Barry to join him down the hall.
He schooled his features into his do-not-mess-with-me CrossFit angry-god expression. A little something he kept in his back pocket from his Marks Perfect Ten Mindset days.
He narrowed his gaze. “Georgie and I will meet you at the hotel, but you guys have to take it down a notch.”
“Jordan,” Bobby said with a placating expression. “You know my husband, Hector—make a big deal out of everything—Garcia. He could turn a trip to the podiatrist into a major event.”
“Well, why wouldn’t you? I have those gorgeous eco-friendly sandals I wear anytime my little piggies need