4. Four
four
ELLIOT
In the foyer, I straighten my tie for at least the ninth time as I approach the front door of the legendary Hacienda where the first night of the season is about to kick off. My fight or flight mechanism revs into high gear. I’m ready to throw down or take off running.
Ginger glances up from her iPad and lowers the mouthpiece of her headset so it no longer blocks the view of her full lips. Her eyes lock onto mine, penetrating my gaze with an indignant challenge.
My heart, already working overtime with nerves, falls into a temporary rhythm incapable of sustaining life. My thoughts cloud for a moment. I force my lungs open with a sharp inhale through my nose. A palpitation thuds against my chest wall before my bodily functions return to normal. Maybe next time I could get a warning before she puts the paddles on me like that again. The least she could have done was shout Clear!
However, after this afternoon at the restaurant, she might not mind if I dropped dead. I could have phrased my thoughts better at the bar, but the fact that she wouldn’t win an award for kindness any time soon doesn’t make her any less sexy.
She points to the floor two feet in front of her, indicating my mark. I give my head a slight shake to clear the rising floodwaters of lust and move toward it.
“Elliot, remember Jamie?” Ginger gestures behind her.
I nod toward the large, full-bearded cameraman, too nervous to greet him as warmly as I’d like. Memories of the drunken all-nighter the remaining four contestants and the camera crew spent in Thailand last season flash briefly, and there are still some holes I need filled in about the adventures of that evening, but reminiscing will have to wait. “How’s it going?”
“Welcome back,” the cameraman says.
“Thanks. We rolling?”
“Always.” Jamie aims the camera at me.
Ginger moves out of the frame. “Gut check, Elliot. Tell us how you’re feeling.”
“Do I look at the camera or you?”
“I’m not here. Look at the camera. Act like you’ve done this before.”
Something else I’ve done before is strip her naked, but I doubt she wants me to call her out on that in mixed company. Pushing back at the memory, I stare down the camera lens, the reflected image of my face swirling and fracturing. “It feels different on this side of the door.”
“Are you excited?” She gives a rolling hand gesture for me to keep talking. Elaborate.
This is ridiculous. I step off the mark. “Shouldn’t Davis be here? I don’t mind talking to someone, but explaining to the camera how jazzed I am right now feels disingenuous.” Dropping my frenetic air quotes, I shove my hands into my pockets.
She tilts her head to give me an impatient look, already annoyed. “Does it?”
“Is this how it always works?”
“Davis’ll be here in a second,” she says. “There’s no harm warming up.”
“I’m all warmed up. Thanks. Let’s wait for Davis.”
Jamie doesn’t lower the camera. “Do you two maybe need a quick team-building exercise?”
Ginger’s glare fixes solely on me. “We’re fine.”
“What do you have in mind?” I ask him.
“I like beer pong,” Jamie replies.
No one laughs.
Footsteps slap the Saltillo tile, heralding Davis’s fashionably late arrival.
Ginger raises the microphone on her headset, her frown of concentration returns as she listens to a voice no one else can hear. “The first car’s coming up the driveway.” She peeks through the sidelight. “Matt, is The Panel ready?” Nodding, she gives the camera crew an elaborate hand signal. “All right. We’re on.”
Jamie refocuses the camera as Davis steps into the frame with me. “You ready, buddy?”
I flash the smile that got me into this mess in the first place and internally curse Michelle for convincing me that returning was a good idea. “Absolutely.”
“The first car is pulling up. Tell us what you’re looking for tonight. You’ll have to send four women home before The Panel announces their save. What are some of the qualities that might make you say, nope, this woman’s not for me?”
I take a breath. It goes down shaky. Either I’m more nervous than I thought, or Ginger’s evil glare is getting to me. “If she doesn’t want the same things I do.”
“Tell me more about what you’re looking for.”
Clearing my throat to make sure my thoughts come out as plainly as possible, I say, “I’m looking for a partner. Someone to do life with. I’m done with all the big adventures. I want someone ready to settle down.” The words come out sounding wooden. What did Michelle say last night? “Someone who makes me laugh.”
Davis dons his most charming grin. “What else?”
Ginger’s critical stare crawls all over me. Though I’m not looking directly at her, her eyeballs might as well be on my skin. I force myself to envision the opposite of her. “Warmth. Kindness goes a long way.”
Ginger gives the signal to wrap it up.
Davis makes a show of straightening my tie. “Your first potential match is about to arrive. You ready?”
“Let’s do it.” I face the door. I give myself a quick reminder that there only needs to be one woman at the end of this. I don’t have to like every one of them.
When the doorbell rings, more cameramen come out of the woodwork. Or maybe they’ve been here, and I was too zoned in on Ginger and Davis to notice. Four huge cameras crowd the foyer now, ready to catch the coming moments from every possible angle. I have to stop myself from looking at Ginger one last time.
I refuse to live in relationship limbo anymore. If the show is the only way to get a guarantee, so be it. Six months of resentment power my hand as I throw open the door for my first potential match.
Tall, blond, in a feathered sky-blue gown, the woman’s dark eyes light up, and she lets out a squeal of excitement. “I’m a hugger! Do you hug?”
Nope. Not it.
I greet her, and she gushes as I accept the hug she’s so eager to give.
Her scent is strong, vanilla and flowers. But it’s too sweet. I pull away. “What’s your name?”
“Hailey.”
“Hailey, nice to meet you. I’m Elliot.”
She beams up at me. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
At least she’s happy to see me. “I hope you don’t regret it once you meet my mom.”
Her smile remains perfectly in place. “I can’t wait.”
“She’s right through there.” I gesture toward the hall that leads to the viewing room where my hand-picked Panel awaits.
Hailey is about to find herself face-to-face with Natalie, Michelle, my mother Irene, and the show’s relationship expert Dr. Lavonne Woods. The meeting will be brief. First impressions only. Once they’ve met all the women, The Panel will view the entire mixer on CCTV so they can decide who they want to save after my first round of eliminations.
As Hailey heads away, I struggle to remember my first impression of her already. My only thought is too sweet .
The next woman is more gorgeous than the first. She stands back a moment to let me take the complete picture in, from her perfectly golden hair, her flawless face, down to her white, shimmering gown.
This is all wrong.
She holds out her hand delicately. “I’m Brianne.”
“Elliot.”
“Do you like my dress?” She spreads her arms to give me a better look.
“It’s beautiful.”
She twirls, in case I haven’t seen enough yet.
“Amazing,” I add.
She moves in closer until her chest brushes mine. In my ear, her words are a low hush just loud enough for the cameras, “Jenna wasn’t good enough for you.”
The comment turns me off instantly. “Ready to meet my Panel?”
“Absolutely,” she purrs.
I find myself glancing helplessly at Ginger as Brianne walks down the hall. She gives me a cheesy grin and a big thumbs-up. “Tell us how you’re feeling!”
“So far so good!” I say, but my smile falters. Maybe it’s all the glam and the big setup, but my faith in the show’s promise of a happy ending has never been more lacking. I can’t picture either of the women I just met sitting next to me at a Cubs game and enjoying a beer, much less keeping track of my teeth cleanings and bearing my children. The doorbell rings again.
Fuck me. I give the knob another twist.
“Hey, Elliot Hale,” the understatedly beautiful woman says with a wide grin that shows off both her dimples. “I’m Cassie. It’s nice to meet you finally.” She steps in for a hug that’s neither too desperate nor too stiff. It hits the right note and settles down my nerves.
It only takes one. “Same. Where are you from?”
“Scottsdale. I’m a nurse.”
“Great.” Awesome. Nurses are incredibly organized, right? Nurturing. They love to kick back and chill on their days off. I’ve met plenty of easygoing health care professionals. “Thank you for taking the time.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting your Panel and getting to talk with you more.”
“I look forward to it, too.” This time I almost mean it.
The next several women are much of the same mix. Some too pretty, too young, too star-stuck to make a good impression, and about one in four whose presence doesn’t instantly make me want to dive into the valley.
Right off the bat, I know which women will be staying, and I have the rest of the night to figure out which ones I’m not interested in getting to know beyond the evening.
After greeting all the women, I make my way, with Davis, Ginger, and one cameraman to a side porch where they break down the last hour of my life into a few fifteen-second sound bites. When they finally lower the camera, I sag against the low brick retaining wall and hang my head to catch my breath.
Ginger isn’t having it. “Not so fast, Elliot. We’re just getting started.”
“Jesus, Ginger, give me five minutes.”
When I glance back up, she’s shooing everyone else inside. Once we’re alone, she crosses her arms and squares off with me. “We can’t take breaks every hour. We’re on a schedule.”
“Will you relax? Christ.”
If anything, her rising shoulders prove the break is making her even more tense.
“This is a lot, okay?” Changing my tone to get her to drop her guard a little, I keep the words deep and private, meant for the two of us. It isn’t like we don’t have history. If we can’t be partners in this whole journey, it’ll be a miserable ride. And it’d be nice to know the person half in charge of my destiny doesn’t hate me.
“It’s what you signed up for,” she snaps.
“All I said was I need a minute.” Forget it. Expecting Ginger of all people to have a genuine moment with me when she’s made it clear that this is the side of the camera I belong on was as stupid as meeting her at the bar alone yesterday.
Her proximity makes everything complicated.
She looks toward the line of cars in the driveway, at the drivers puffing on their vapes and checking their phones.
I take her in, my gaze roaming slowly upward, past her tattered white Converse, her baggy, rolled-up sweatpants, and her nod to professionalism with the old blazer/network logo T-shirt combo I was sure she’d worn holes through last season. Finally I arrive at her impatient face—her calculating brown eyes staring out at nothing while she waits for me to get my shit together.
The only time I’ve ever seen her wearing makeup was the finale where she appeared briefly on camera for our final interview. She looked beautiful that night, but I prefer the way she looked without makeup, once she’d sweated it all off, later at the hotel when she gave her entire body to me like it was the real grand prize.
The memory unleashes a sudden desire that rises like steam through my chest, causing me to sit straighter to give it some room inside me. Four feet away, she’s barefaced again, her hair up in that infuriating ponytail. It always looks like it’s about to come loose, but it never does. It also never fails to derail me.
“Ginger—”
She gives her head a sharp shake and, without even a glance my way, tramples all over the olive branch I’d been about to offer. “Know who you’re sending packing yet? Anyone stand out as a no-way-in-hell?”
Eighty percent of the women could have left in the last ten minutes and I wouldn’t remember what they looked like, but my own guard is up so high, I can’t trust my own judgment, especially not with Ginger’s energy rippling all around me. “Too early to say.”
Her eyes meet mine. “Are you ready to go in yet? Everybody’s waiting.”
“What’s next?” I ask.
“Speed dates. You have some questions ready?”
“Why? Did you make me a list in case I came unprepared?” I stand, smoothing the front of my pants. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Ginger Moon.”
“Maybe not, but it will be your last. What can we do to get that panty-dropping smile back on your face?”
I balk, staring down at her. “Excuse me?”
“What?” Her eyes open wide, all shocked innocence. I take a step forward, bringing myself closer to her than I’ve been in months. “I think you and I need to have a conversation.”
It’s her turn to be taken aback. “About what?”
I do a quick survey of the area to make sure no cameras have sneaked their way back onto the patio. We’re still alone, so I let loose. “About the fact that six months ago—you were the one dropping your panties. Or is it easier for you to act like that never happened?” There. I said it. Put it on the table. It’s out there.
She straightens, adding another inch to her petite frame. “I’m not the one throwing around words like meaningless , and saying shit like ‘been there done that, Ginger.’ ”
Zero to sixty. Just like I remember her. “That is not what I said, and bottom line is, we are not just coworkers here.” I gesture between us. “We have a history, short and meaningless as it is, it’s a fact , and I haven’t forgotten it. You might have blown it off in a heartbeat, but maybe consider it took me a little more time. So if you don’t want me bringing it up, you need to keep your mouth shut, too.”
Eyes wide with surprise or disgust, her mouth opens and closes a few times in response. I think she might be taking my advice and staying quiet, but she bursts instead. “All I did was say panty-dropper!”
“Yeah? Well, don’t. I didn’t come here to find someone I have to forget about when the sun comes up. So you don’t get to use the P-word. Not one more time. You got it?”
“I—”
“Good. Now where am I supposed to be?”