“Well, it is Sunday. I tend to get a later start on Sundays,” he says from the kitchen. “Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.” I open my iPad and pull up my strategy plan. A framed photo on the coffee table distracts me and I pick it up. It’s a group of probably 25 people. I spot Tyler pretty quickly in the background next to Trent. It must be the entire Slade family.
“But I did get up at 5 a.m. and tended to the horses before coming back to bed . . . what the hell?”
I glance up as he walks back into the room with a mug in each hand.
“What’s all this?”
I take the coffee from his hand and inhale it briefly before taking a long sip. “This is our roadmap.” I take a seat on the couch and pat the cushion. “I promise not to bite.”
He takes a seat next to me and I try not to notice the heat I feel radiating off his thick thigh that’s almost touching mine.
“Okay, so I already have everything scheduled for our social posts. We know what the captions and hashtags will be, which days and times the posts will go live, etc. Right now, we’re kind of working a little backward. I’ve already hired a photographer from Denver who will take all the photos for Instagram, the website, and Facebook, and film any videos for Instagram and TikTok.”
“TikTok? You’re just making shit up now.”
I look at him a little sideways. “TikTok? You’ve seriously never head of TikTok?”
“No, and saying it multiple times doesn’t make it any clearer.” He stands up and walks over to the window. I can tell he’s already feeling overwhelmed.
“It’s a video social media app, and the videos last anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes long. It’s extremely popular right now and an amazing marketing tool.”
He nods his head, keeping his gaze out the window as he drinks his coffee.
“I don’t have any social media—never have, never will.” He looks over his shoulder at me as he says it.
“That’s fine; we don’t need you to have your own. The whole point of this campaign is that it’s all hosted on the Slade Brewing International social media pages and you’re just the face.” I smile at him genuinely, hoping I can relieve some of his anxiety and apprehension about this whole thing.
“I don’t know,” he mutters, “it all just feels too much. I’m a really busy man, Miss Dyer, and none of this—” he motions toward the media boards on the coffee table, “is real. This is all just a bunch of curated, made-up shit to sell something. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I try to remain calm and not take his words too personally, but the fact of the matter is this is my entire job and he knows it. The least he could do is try to be a little understanding even if he doesn’t understand it all. To belittle my profession feels extra shitty.
“Well, how about this . . . you don’t have to worry about any of it. I’ll tell you well in advance whenever I’ll need you for a photo shoot and where you need to show up. I’ll handle everything else.”
He chews his bottom lip as if he’s contemplating my offer.
“Ranger and Decker have already agreed to step it up and pick up any slack around the ranch when you have to step away for the shoots.”
He whips his head around, his eyes narrowing on me. “My cousins? They don’t know how to run the place without me. Sure, they’re my right-hand guys, but I need to be here.”
“I’m not saying they can run it without you, but they did assure me they can handle the day-to-day stuff for at least a few hours at a time if you need to step away.”
Jesus, with Tyler it’s like trying to walk on eggshells and stroke an ego at the same time.
“You should’ve let me talk to them about it.”
I smile and nod. “You’re right; I’m sorry.”
“I’ll have a conversation with them—make sure they can handle it.” He places his coffee mug on the end table and crosses his arms over his broad chest. “If I do this, I don’t want any pressure from you or anyone to do anything else. I won’t have my own accounts and I won’t be talked into it. What matters to me is this ranch and my family. I don’t give a shit about any of this pointless TikTack or Instagram whatever, understood?”
My patience is running more than a little thin with Tyler’s attitude and constant waffling on this whole thing—not to mention this new need to invalidate my job and make it clear to me that he feels like it’s pointless.
I slam the cover of my iPad closed and reach for the media boards on the table. “You know what, Tyler? I think I’ve changed my mind. Sorry to have bothered you about all this.” I stuff the boards back into my bag, followed by my iPad.
“Huh? I said I’d do it.”
I hoist the bag up under my arm as I pull the strap up my shoulder, “Oh, I heard you. You not only went out of your way to let me know how pointless my job and entire career is, but clearly, you don’t think you need me or this for your family business, so I’ll be on my way.”