The Kiss That Launched 1,000 Gifs (5 page)

Knowing that the web cam was firing up, Ash redirected his eyes to his own notepad. He couldn’t be caught ogling Grace two days in a row, so he refocused on something practical: his grocery list. For the forty seconds the intro played in, he made a list of what he needed to buy on his way home. It was an even day on the calendar, which meant Grace would be opening the show. So until then, Ash did what he usually did and pretended to be strategizing until she started talking. It was the safest move.

When Grace said, “Good afternoon, and welcome to the newest edition of Battle of the Sexes,” he finished writing
snap peas
and looked up. “With me today is the man who has just proven that the Instagram app is truly foolproof—my no-longer-technically challenged cohost, Ashton Miller.”

Ash leaned forward into the mic. “And with me is the woman I’ve recently learned feels compelled to alert the world via photograph every time she finds a pair of shoes she likes—the woman who takes the ‘anonymous’ out of Shopaholics Anonymous—my lovely cohost, Grace Vasquez.”

Grace was unapologetic. “A good pair of shoes is worth sharing.”

“Oh? Does that mean I should post pictures of my shoes?” Ash asked, picking up his phone and pressing the camera icon.

“You’re wearing hiking boots.”

“That’s right,” Ash said, putting his shoes up on the table and snapping a picture. “These are Salomon Quest 4D GTXes. I wear them any time I go on a shoot that requires some hiking. They’re light, durable, and provide great stability. Is that the sort of thing you share on Instagram?”

“Not really,” Grace said. “But I’m sure Salomon doesn’t mind the free advertising you just handed them.”

“Well, I’m totally posting a picture,” Ash said, in his best valley girl tone. “It’s not every day a man finds comfort, function, and fashion all in one shoe.”

“Indeed,” Grace replied. “I’m still waiting for that day to happen for you.”

Ash smiled against his will and set his phone to the side. He’d post the photo later. Grace was clearly in a mood that required his full attention. “So what are we talking about today? And, please, don’t let it be shoes!”

Grace glanced at her computer screen, giving Ash a view of her stunning profile. Seriously, how was her skin so smooth?

“Today the most up-voted topic is…” She blinked, looking confused. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Ash echoed, intrigued by the look of confusion on Grace’s face.

“Cupcakes,” she said.

“Cupcakes?”

Grace nodded and frowned at her monitor. “
Why do men hate cupcakes?
is the trending topic at the moment.” Grace looked Ash’s way, visibly confused. “Do men hate cupcakes?”

“Well, I personally don’t eat flour or sugar,” Ash said, trying to wrap his head around the question so he could come up with a decent response. “So I don’t like them by default.”

Grace waved that off. “Yes, but your diet is your own damage. We’re talking about men in general here. What is there to hate about a cupcake? It’s a tiny single-serve cake.”

“Exactly,” Ash stalled, still looking for an angle to argue. Maybe if he kept Grace talking she would gift wrap the problem for him.

Grace shook her head. “It’s a small, self-contained portion of baked goodness with frosting. How is that not perfection?”

Ah, there it was! He’d missed an angle they could argue about the first time she mentioned it, but heard it loud and clear on the second pitch. “You’re asking me how a dainty portion of cake—smaller than my fist—covered in cutesy frosting isn’t what a man wants for dessert?”

“But they’re the perfect size!” she argued.

“For a child,” Ash retorted, feeling good about his stance. “Or someone who’s watching their calorie intake. Not a grown man.”

Grace rolled her eyes. “Oh, you have to be kidding me.”

“Not at all,” Ash said. “Plus, there’s this unspoken pressure in the room to have only one cupcake. You start taking multiples and people look at you funny. I mean, if a man could walk up and grab four cupcakes at a time and not get any dirty looks for it, then
maybe
cupcakes would be more interesting… if you took all the flowers and sprinkles off and made them three-times as big.”

“Well, then it’s just a small cake,” Grace argued.

“Exactly. If you’re going to make cupcakes, why not just make a cake and let everyone get the piece size they want?”

Grace stared at him and blinked twice. “Holy cow. This is actually a thing, isn’t it?”

“It doesn’t need to be,” Ash said. “If you know your man doesn’t like cupcakes, then don’t make him cupcakes. If you feel inclined to bake for him, make him a cake or something else he likes. Cupcakes don’t have to be ‘a thing’ unless you force the issue.”

Grace leaned back in her chair, visibly settling into the debate. “But what if I see great cupcakes on Pinterest and I want to make them.”

“Then make them,” Ash said with a shrug. “Just don’t expect the man in your life to get excited about them. He’s not going to appreciate them. At best he’s going to digest them. So get your high fives on a crafty job well done somewhere else—like from other women.”

Her eyebrows drew together in disapproval as her lips pursed adorably. “That’s kind of heartless—I mean, considering how much effort went into the finished product.”

“Maybe. But it’s a two-way street. I may put hours into perfecting my fade-away shot, but it’s not like you’re going to praise me when I pull it off perfectly.”

“Wait. What’s a fade away shot?”

Ash let out a long-suffering sigh for the audience. “It’s the male equivalent to a woman’s perfectly executed cupcake. A good fade-away shot is probably about as interesting to a woman as decorative squirts of frosting on four ounces of baked batter is to a man.”

Grace actually smiled, but quashed it back pretty quickly. “Those ‘decorative squirts’ take effort, practice, and skill.”

“So does passing a level on a video game, but I don’t see women lining up to congratulate their men about that.”

Grace leaned back in her chair. “Ugh. Video games. Don’t even get me started on those.”

“Ugh. Frosting art,” he mimicked. “Don’t even get me started.”

She studied him for a beat, lips pursed out thoughtfully. She was a breath away from laughing even as she pretended to be annoyed. “Do we need to cut to commercial already? Cool down a bit?”

“I dunno,” Ash said, smiling. “We could always talk about thermostats again. That’s always fun.”

“Seventy-two,” she said without blinking.

Ash grinned. “Sixty-four.”

Grace shook her head emphatically. “No way. I won’t believe yours is really set at sixty-four until I go to your house and see it firsthand. No one keeps the thermostat that low.”

“I’ve invited you over on many occasions,” he said. “It’s not like I’m hiding my thermostat from you. Frank can bear witness to its setting, as can Emily or any number of our coworkers. It stays at sixty-four.”

Ash glanced at Frank, who gave a nod of agreement from the other side of the glass. The audience with webcams saw it, but Grace ignored it.

“Whatever,” Grace said, shutting the conversation down abruptly. “We’ve talked that topic to death before, so let’s take a look at the number two question today:
Why aren’t more men on Instagram?
”

Ash was momentarily distracted by Grace’s brief flash of temper before following her awkward transition.

“Are there fewer men?” he mused. “Or do more men just lurk and more women post?”

Grace grew still for a beat. “Well, that’s a troubling thought.”

“C’mon. You seriously never thought of that?”

“Oh, I’ve thought of it,” Grace said. “I’ve just never had a man confirm it. Somehow it makes the possibility more real.”

“Well, you should be safe,” Ash said with a shrug, earning him a laser-sharp look. “Most villains don’t want to see shots of shoes and dresses. You probably have nothing to fear from any man who might be stalking your Instagram feed, Grace. He’s probably just shopping.”

Direct hit. Grace’s glare told him as much. He decided to frustrate her even more by giving the conversation a turn before she could respond.

“But I haven’t even had the app for twenty-four hours,” he said with a smile. “So I’m no expert, right?”

“I dunno,” Grace said, sounding sincere. “You’ve got your first pic up, and you’re about to add that glorious shot of your hiking shoes. It sounds like you have Instagram nailed down to me.”

“Thanks, Grace,” he said with equal seriousness. “That means a lot from a guru like you.”

Oh, the things Grace wanted to say. Ash could see all of them in her eyes, even if she currently had the self control to keep them swallowed back.

“So let’s recap,” he said before the pause became too long. “On Instagram, I should post and not lurk; the correct setting for a thermostat is sixty-four—”

“Seventy-two,” Grace countered.

“So we’ll say sixty-eight degrees for the thermostat, then. And if a woman wants to bake and her man isn’t into cupcakes, she should make something else and not take it personally.”

“And what if a man wants to bake for his woman?” Grace countered.

Ash shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we should call Phillip and have him answer that one. He’s the chef. What does he bake for you?”

A sensual smile curved her lips. “Phillip makes a divine apple crisp. I can literally eat my way into a new dress size.”

“Hard to screw apple crisp up.”

“And his Napoleons are to die for,” she added, her voice half moan. “Seriously, he has to hide the pan, because I will down it. But I can promise you that if I asked him for a cute little cupcake, Phillip wouldn’t balk.”

Ash rolled his eyes. “Of course not, because that’s what you
want
. But that’s not what today’s question was asking. You asked me for a reason why men don’t want cupcakes, and I gave you one. Plus, I gave you a simple solution: if your man doesn’t like cupcakes, just give him a man-sized cake. There’s nothing inherently sexist about that. It’s just a preference thing. My advice is to find out what your lover wants, and give them that, not something else.”

“Wow, Ashton.” Grace pressed her hand to her heart. “It’s rare when sense comes out of your mouth, but I think stars just aligned.”

“Thanks, Grace,” he said with a grin. “The stars must
really
be aligned then, because it’s a rare day when you have something nice to say, and yet here we are. I’m making sense; you’re being nice… is this the first step to becoming boring cohosts who agree on everything?”

She shook her head. “Not by a long shot, buddy. I may be able to acknowledge a moment of clarity on your part, but that doesn’t mean I lose all memory of the insane things that come out of your mouth day-in and day-out.”

“Things like what?” Ash prompted, quickly filtering through his vault of one-liners that set Grace off like a firework. “Like how I think men and women’s sports should remain segregated?”

A light sparked in Grace’s eyes as she leaned forward. The way gravity was working on her neckline told Ash to look down, but the intensity in Grace’s eyes told him to keep his eye on the ball.

“If a woman can keep up with men, she should be able to play on a men’s team,” Grace argued.

“Nope,” Ash said, shaking his head.

“What about American Ninja Warrior?” she said, her chin coming up. “They have one course and anyone is allowed to challenge it. And from what I can tell the world hasn’t exploded yet.”

“That’s different than football and other team sports,” Ash argued.

“I’ll grant you that football might be the most extreme example,” Grace said. “But baseball? Basketball? Soccer? How in the world would it kill the sport to allow women in if they outperform men and earn their spot?”

“You’re only saying that because you grew up doing ballroom,” Ash argued. “You’ve never played a team sport, so you don’t understand the hornet’s nest you’re poking at when you talk about throwing men and women together.”

“Clearly I don’t,” Grace snapped. “Since I grew up doing a sport where men and women coexisted just fine in the same arena.”

“Team sports are different.”

“Not really.”

“Yes,” Ash said, looking into her eyes and smiling. “Really.”

She blinked and leaned away, clearly confused by the move even though it didn’t keep her from pulling her microphone front and center. “Forget cupcakes. I want to talk about this today. I want to talk about sports—co-ed sports—and whether they should follow the lead of competitions like American Ninja Warrior and focus on merits instead of sex.”

“Hmmm,” Ash said into his mic. “A debate about sports between a woman who has never played a team sport in her life and a man who grew up playing every sport. I wonder who will win?”

Heaven help him, but Grace looked stunning when she was furious. If they hadn’t been on live radio, Ash would have tuned out her words and just imagined kissing his little wildcat while she raged, but this wasn’t a date. It was work. He had to listen.

There was a quick moment of mental gymnastics reflected in Grace’s eyes as she buckled down the rant Ash knew she wanted to unleash and stuck with saying, “You might want to back off the jabs here, Ashton. This is a topic that really gets me fired up.”