13. Thirteen
thirteen
GINGER
“The secret to a lasting, committed relationship is trust.” Lavonne speaks to the camera as I stand by, shooing another vicious horsefly away. “At the Redwood Retreat, we’re going to see how the women and Elliot handle uncertainty through a series of trust exercises.”
This is, by far, my least favorite episode to film. Sure, Lavonne claims it’s all about trust building, but it’s more about grown women squealing and squawking over the slightest rustling noise before throwing themselves at some man they barely know to take care of them. Nothing irritates me more than a damsel faking distress.
The good news is we’re down to ten women, so the days won’t be as long as the barbecues. The bad news—horseflies. Ants. Bears.
When Elliot and the women arrive, I chug my water as he jumps out of the Jeep he drove up in. He looks great for the cameras and everything, but the sight of him jars me. Obviously it shouldn’t. I left him in the Hacienda driveway less than twelve hours ago with traces of his cum on my fingers and his saliva on my chest, but maybe I haven’t had the requisite time needed to process our interlude.
Heart suddenly fluttering, light-headedness causes my vision to momentarily blur. Fuck, did I just swoon ? This has to stop. It’s not like we had sex.
Recently.
Capping my water bottle, I try to assess him the way a good producer should. Our surroundings considered, he’s on point, and he looks absurdly handsome in jeans, hiking boots, and a zip-up sweatshirt.
He’ll take that off later as the day warms up, and the women will take off their cover-ups, too. By the end of the day, they’ll be stripped down to their tank tops, getting the shit bitten out of them by bugs. Right now, they’re all flannel shirts and short shorts.
Elliot’s eyes scan the campground until they finally rest for a moment on mine. A clench deep in my abdomen has me turning quickly away to find something else to do besides gawk at him and remember how badly I wanted him inside me last night. I’m still on a roller coaster of pride and regret for managing to keep my pants on.
“Gather ’round everyone, gather ’round.” Lavonne’s really letting loose today with a poufy ponytail instead of her usual military-style bun. Her forest ranger getup consists of a short khaki romper that doesn’t hide a single curve. The whistle strung on a rope around her neck is perpetually caught in her cleavage. Digging it out, she gives it a blow.
All smiles, the women and Elliot line up before her. “Who’s ready to get to work?”
I spot Matt sitting on a log and make my way over to him. He scratches at his overgrown beard as I approach. His heavy- lidded eyes always make him look like the exact right person to commiserate with. “Zip line, ropes, or blindfold games?” I ask.
“Blindfold,” Matt says without hesitation.
I sit on the log next to him. “Good. I want the zip line.”
“Fine by me. I hate that shit.”
“I’m still pissed you wouldn’t bungee with me last time.” He huffs a short laugh, but then zeroes in on me, his eyes narrowing. “Looks like you had a fun night. Where’d you get that?”
I bristle as Matt points a finger at my throat. “What?”
“The hickey.”
Hand moving quickly to cover my neck, I bolt upright like the log is in flames.
His laugh is a deep rumble. “I’m glad one of us is putting her downtime to good use. It’s nice to see you having some fun for once. Where are you going? I want to hear about this person.”
I’m already halfway to my trailer, fleeing before Matt starts to put two and two together. It isn’t like he and Kat didn’t watch me leave with Elliot last night.
I fling open the door and hurry to the bathroom mirror. My jaw drops as I take in the enormous hickey to the left of my windpipe. How the fuck could I have missed that?
Because you never check the mirror in the morning, you stupid idiot.
And on a related note— How could he?
And also on a related note—did I leave any marks on him ? Holy shit! If Matt sees?—
I start for the door, but hesitate. Closing my eyes, I press my hands toward the ground and exhale, willing myself to slow down and think.
First, how can I cover up my neck so no one else starts doing the math? Matt, I can handle. Lavonne on the other hand...
Opening my suitcase, I dump its contents onto the bed.
“Hey—what are you doing? We need you out here.” I whirl to face Kat barging into my trailer.
“I was looking for something else to wear.”
“Why? Oh.” Kat’s eyes go straight to the hickey, and my hand flies up to cover it. “Can I have a minute, please?”
“Who gave you that?”
“Nobody.”
Kat’s gaze grows narrow and ultra-suspicious. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works.”
“It was Finn.” He’s the first person who comes to mind, and he’s easy enough to throw under the bus since I haven’t seen him in over a year. Still, it’s entirely possible we hooked up. There’s never been any rhyme or reason to our situationship before.
Kat’s face scrunches in distaste, meaning she’s buying it, but hating it, too, like a good friend should. “Since when?”
“You know. Now and then.”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I wish I hadn’t, either. I had no idea he left a mark.”
“He must’ve gotten sloppy...”
“Please.” I hold up a hand to stop whatever else Kat could possibly say.
“So who initiated this booty call?”
“I did,” I lie without hesitation. “I was kind of wound-up last night after we left.”
“After you left with Elliot?”
Goddamn...
“Before that,” I say quickly. “Elliot was being a diva. He was pissed about his mom. We need to keep an eye on her with the drinks, by the way.”
“Uh-huh. I remember.”
Flustered, I turn my back on Kat and look down at my open suitcase. Grabbing a hoodie with a tie, I pull off my blazer and tug the sweatshirt over my head. Cinching it at the neck, I check myself in the mirror. I take down my hair. The combination more or less does the trick.
“So how is Finn?” Kat asks as I arrange my hair.
“It was all a little rushed, unfortunately. He was in and out kind of fast.”
Kat snorts.
“Of my house, I mean. We didn’t talk much.” Not that Finn and I ever talked much. Our relationship was strictly physical, and even though he made one attempt to be more of a real boyfriend, the timing sucked for me, and I found I preferred him on an as-needed basis. He was fun, but he never rocked my world. Unfortunately, the only man who’s ever done that wants to play it safe for the rest of his life with someone who may or may not ever get him.
“You gonna see him again?”
Of course Kat means Finn, but the face flashing through my mind isn’t Finn’s. It’s Elliot’s in all its angular perfection. “Doubt it. It wasn’t as good as I remembered.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Right?” The lie of it is, being with Elliot last night was even better than I remember.
But back to the problem at hand: how to get close enough to Elliot to check his exposed skin before he heads out to some obstacle course Lavonne set up.
That’s simple, too. We’ll have a few minutes before the challenge starts where everyone will be gathering their backpacks for the hike. I’ll simply pull him aside and pretend to talk about?—
What?
Think, Ginger.
Simple again. Just be honest. We’re adults. We were accidentally intimate last night. We’re perfectly capable of discussing the need for discretion.
Easy peasy.
“I’m good, let’s go.” I usher Kat out of the trailer, and we head back to the campsite.
As the group disperses, PAs pull women aside for quick interviews while Elliot gets a short brief from Lavonne. I make my way toward him, twigs cracking beneath my feet and horseflies aggressively attacking my hair. I swat at them with one hand while using the other to signal to Lavonne that I need a minute with the star.
The therapist nods and goes to grab her own bag. I walk up to Elliot, getting extremely close so I can speak quietly. Rather than retreat, the way most people do when I go toe-to-toe with them, he bends until our heads are side to side. God, he smells so good.
Ignoring my lustful thoughts, I speak in a low voice. “Don’t look now, but do you have any marks on you?”
He eyes me warily. “Any marks on me? Is that what you said?”
“Do you have any marks on you?”
“Like my tattoo?”
“Like a hickey ,” I hiss.
His soft laugh moves my hair, tickling my ear. “I have some scratches, but I don’t have any hickeys. Why? You got some? You should after?—”
“ Shhh. It’s on my neck .”
“You probably have more.”
“You dick.”
“You loved it,” he whispers before standing straight. The depth of his voice in my ear has me flushed with desire all over again. He smirks at my tied up hoodie and steps off the picnic table foundation, back into the fray. He glances at me one more time as he walks away, and I have to physically root myself to the earth not to follow him into a dark place somewhere.
“First, I’ll take Elliot and Elizabeth.” Lavonne waves at the group from the entrance to the main trail into the woods. The pair of them walk toward each other, joining hands when they’re close enough to reach.
I fight a massive eye roll. Elliot and Elizabeth. Meaning all their future children will have names starting with Es, too. Ethan, Edie, Evan, I could go on, but it would make me throw up in my mouth. It’s annoyingly comforting to think Elizabeth might make him wait until their wedding night.
My mind flashes back to Elliot’s filthy mouth. Can you picture me with a virgin?
It’s none of my business.
I need to find a bigger mirror.
ELLIOT DIDN’T LIE. He left plenty of marks. My body heats as I count the hickeys on my chest and shoulders.
Seven.
My nipples tighten as I brush my fingertips along each irregular reddened mark, unable to stop myself from recalling the pressure of his mouth on my skin. The way his breath gusted across my breasts, and the warmth of his tongue on my throat. I can maybe forgive myself for my inability to resist him, but I would never be able to forgive myself if I had to pay the price for it with my career.
While I never lose sleep dreaming of my perfect man, this small taste of one has whet my appetite, making me hungry for more.
So, okay, no big deal. I’ll renew my efforts to find another lover after the show wraps. I’ve been preoccupied with my job for the last several—well, it’s been some time, but I’m competent at it now. I can schedule some time for dating if a warm body in my bed is something I’d like on a more regular basis.
That was all this is—I’m hornier than I gave myself credit for. But I’m not starved . I’m fine. Elliot happens to be excellent at what he does, but he isn’t the only man in the world I’m sexually compatible with.
It’s best to cast Elliot as a “type.” Hot, good in bed, but taken. The untaken versions of Elliot are harder to find, sure—but they’re out there, one breakup away from being available. I can do the work. Keep my eyes open. Let my friends know to be on the lookout. I’ll be having great sex on the regular in no time. If I get lucky, maybe I’ll even find a guy nice enough to take out my trash in the morning when he leaves.
Later, in front of a monitor displaying the blindfold trust walks, I reactivate a couple of my online dating profiles to get an idea of what’s out there. Can’t hurt. And it’s much better for my bottom line than obsessing about Elliot, the only man on the planet I know without a doubt I can’t have.
The second day’s trust exercise is the zip line. Acts of daring and danger are always great TV. The “trust” part is, Elliot has to make sure each woman is secured in her harness before sending them across the gorge, even though he only got trained for the task five minutes ago.
Obviously, our stunt guys double-check the safety gear before Elliot sends them flying. We can’t have anyone plummeting to her death in the redwood forest because we let a handsome website designer do all the tricky stuff.
As with every heights challenge the show has ever done, suddenly everybody has a fear of heights except the one girl who isn’t afraid of anything. This season it’s Hailey, the feather-wearing hippie chick Elliot’s sister Natalie can’t stand. Hailey and Elliot work their way through the gear, and she takes off first, whooping through the treetops. Elliot straps each woman in one by one, while he soothes their fears of heights and assures them he’ll see them across safely. It’s endearing and all, but it takes hours to film.
Amanda—always saving her best self for last—wants Elliot to cross the ravine with her, but he demurs in the name of fairness.
Once she sails away, it’s his turn to strap in. Instead, he takes three big steps away from the edge, shakes his arms, and blows out a harsh breath.
I brace myself to look up at his face for the first time since the previous morning. I’ve made a study of his exposed skin—his arms and neck specifically, but I haven’t noticed anything yet that would prove my presence on top of him the other night. Right now, though, all of that ceases to matter. He’s green . While most of the crew has left for the other side, Jamie and a few others are still standing by, rolling tape.
Elliot’s eyes meet mine, and he audibly gulps. “I’m sorry, Ginger. I’m terrified,” he says.
I blink to attention. “Fear of heights?”
“Fear of death from falling.”
I say a quick prayer for patience. If he had this conversation with Amanda five minutes ago, we could have used it. As it stands, Elliot’s heartfelt outpouring of terror will wind up on the cutting room floor. My annoyance makes its way into my sharp tone. “Everybody else made it across okay.”
“How are you getting over?”
I gesture at the gorge. “The zip line. I’m going after you, then Jamie’ll bring the car around.”
“I can’t do it.” He’s losing his breath like he’s running laps instead of frozen solid.
“Let’s bring one of the women back to talk you into it. Who do you want?”
“Michelle,” he says without hesitation.
I scowl. “It can’t be her. One of the contestants.”
“I want Michelle.”
Tension spikes inside me with no warning. “Why?”
“I need to talk to her.”
“About what?”
“About all of this. I’m not getting on the zip line, and I need Michelle .”
I put my hands on my hips and toss a glance toward the cameramen. “Take a minute, all right? I’ll bring you back when he’s ready.”
Jamie and the others lower their cameras. I reach around Elliot’s waist to switch off his mic. He’s already got his helmet off, and he’s breathing so hard, it sounds like he was just revived from a drowning incident.
“Michelle’s the only one who can calm you down or...?”
He puts even more distance between himself and the edge of the drop-off. “Well, you’re not helping,” he snaps.
Ouch.
Somehow he manages a kick straight to the gut with that one. It isn’t like Michelle is any more nurturing than I am, not from what I’ve seen so far anyway.
“Forget it,” he says. “I’ll head over whenever the crew is ready.”
“Elliot—you can’t send all those women across and then show up in a car. They went through something for you.”
He waves both his hands toward his face as he bends over again, like he’s trying to physically move air into his lungs. “I’m going through something, too. It’s called a panic attack. Goddamn, it’s hot.”
Off goes his shirt. He chucks it on the ground and doubles over, hands braced on his knees, breathing hard.
I shove a bottle in his face. “Water?”
He takes it and drinks.
“I thought you were excited about this,” I say.
“It sounded fun in theory.”
“You know what Lavonne would say.”
“Take a leap of faith. Yeah, I was there for the talk, too.”
“She’d say you have to risk something for love. C’mon, Elliot. You can do it. You might even like it. It’s not as scary as it looks.”
He stands up straight and uses his forearm to wipe his brow. His chest glistens with sweat and not a single hair. He’d be absolutely glorious to behold if he weren’t being such a total baby. “I’m not doing it.”
“What if I go with you?”
“No offense, but I barely trust that thing to hold my own weight, let alone two of us.”
“It can handle it.” We’ll film a double doing it later. Elon, one of the other cameramen, looks a little like Elliot, but they need Elliot’s face on that damn helmet cam. “You’ve gotta do the zip line, Elliot.”
He shakes his head like no way in hell.
I switch tactics, bringing out Good Cop. Linking my hand with his, I wait until he’s looking me in the eye. “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Come on, tough guy. We’ve got this.”
His mouth quirks, though his expression remains grim. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like you give a shit about me.” His fingers lock into a death grip on mine, which is a stirring reminder of his physical strength, but despite the shiver it gives me, we need to focus on his emotional fortitude.
I glance toward Jamie and the crew. Gathered around a nearby tree, they aren’t far away enough. I lower my voice. “This has nothing to do with me. I need you on a zip line. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you on it.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Within reason,” I correct.
He drags in the deepest breath yet. “Okay.”
“Seriously? You’ll do it?” I don’t know what I said that convinced him, but I plan to hold him to it.
He nods. “Today’s a good day to die, right?”
“For sure.”
Our fingers untwist, and he turns to pick his shirt up off the ground. When he stands straight again, that’s when I see them. Claw marks. Eight symmetrical scratches across his back mark exactly where I’ve been.
What the fuck was I thinking?
I step between Elliot’s back and the crew’s line of sight while he puts his shirt on, hoping they didn’t see any of the evidence I left.
Elliot re-gears while I put on a helmet and harness. I wait at the edge for him. Our stunt supervisor checks all the connections before Elliot eyes the edge warily and takes another tentative step forward. “Is my mic on?”
“I’ll get it. Hang on.”
“Just a sec.”
Hands on mine, he stops them from snaking around his waist. Jamie hangs back, but his camera is up and running as Elliot rechecks all of my harness connections. He speaks in a low voice. “If I’m about to die and you are, too, I don’t regret the other night.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hiss.
“I needed to say it. Honestly, I can see my whole life flashing before my eyes.”
“You’re not gonna die. You’re gonna have an amazing time.”
I flip his microphone on and power up his helmet cam before picking up the carabiner that will latch us together. “You ready?”
“You know I’m not.”
Standing behind him, I slide the connector into place. “Let’s try that again. Tell yourself you’ve got this.”
He clears his throat and turns on reality show Elliot. “Somebody give me a countdown.”
I tighten my arms around his waist, and he grips the trolley in a stranglehold.
Jamie calls out, “Three, two...one...”
I lean into him, sending him forward and over the edge. Then we’re soaring.
He screams like a lunatic. “Holy shit! Holy shit! Jesus Christ!” It’s going to end up being one long series of bleeps as we sail through the air. “How do I stop?”
“You don’t. The line stops you,” I shout.
“What does that mean?”
“Elliot—we’re flying!”
“Shit! Ha!”
The outburst of pure glee is a nice, gratifying surprise.
I give his upper arms a squeeze and with that, he finally relaxes, leaning back against me and lifting his legs in front of him. I resist the urge to wrap my thighs around his waist. The amount of dirty looks I’ll get from the women and Lavonne isn’t worth it.
Elliot lets out another loud whoop, and I laugh, adrenaline and a warm sense of his joy coursing through me. Such a rush.
The rest of the cast and crew come into focus on the other side of the ravine. Most of them cheer, but a few frown at our tandem arrival. Natalie and Michelle gape, both evidently well-versed on Elliot’s fear of falling.
We catch on the brake and jolt against each other. Much more slowly, we come skidding to a stop on terra firma.
Once we unstrap, the women swarm.
Exhilarated and breathless, I take off my helmet. As I shove my hair out of my face, I catch Michelle studying me with a quizzical look, head cocked to the side.
I avoid her questioning gaze and turn away, only to be confronted again by the steel-blue eyes of Elliot Hale. Ten women surround him, but for one amazing moment, his gaze holds mine like I’m the only one.
It’s really, really hard to stay mad at him when he looks at me like that. But here we are.