Chapter 9 #2
A producer had likely reached out to his agent and he’d agreed to come on, be some comic relief and a good storyline—reunited after Tough Love. We hadn’t been a match on that show, but could there be a spark between the cocky playboy and the sweet southern belle? I could see the articles now.
Spoiler alert, there would be no spark. In fact, I’d felt all of zero sparks as each of these men paraded past me.
Shouldn’t I feel something? A singular butterfly? Even a small fly buzzing around?
“It’s good to see you, Grant,” I said, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and giving him a hug.
“You’re doing great,” he whispered in my ear. I gave him a squeeze and let him go.
“I suppose weirder things have happened,” I said for the sake of the cameras. “I’m glad you came.”
“Me too.” He gave me one final wink before heading inside.
His bite had never been as strong as his bark, and even though I found it challenging not to constantly roll my eyes around him, I really was happy he was here. He was someone to take the edge off the constant tension.
“Last guy.” Brady gave me a thumbs up from the sideline.
I returned the gesture. What time was it? I swear it had to be close to midnight by this point.
“Bring in number twelve.”
Another pair of dress shoes came into view from around the side of the house.
This contestant was dressed in a simple charcoal suit with a light pink shirt and a colorful tie.
I smiled when I saw it. The outfit was more traditional than some of the trendier ones the other men wore, and it immediately struck me as wholesome.
Then I met his eyes. Kind, brown ones. A shy smile. Tanned skin, and a face that looked inviting.
“Hi, I’m Tripp.” He stumbled a little bit right before he stopped in front of me. He tossed his head back and groaned. “Crap, the entire time I was waiting to come out here, I told myself a million times, ‘don’t fall.’ I was hoping to play it cooler than that.”
I giggled. “I think you played it very cool.”
He raised an eyebrow and looked hopeful. “Really? I shouldn’t ask for a do-over?”
“I personally found it charming. And your name is Tripp, right?”
He chuckled and shook his head, cheeks reddening in an adorable way. “Right. I guess I should have pretended to do it on purpose, a little tactic to help you remember me. Tripp who trips.” His grin widened across his round face.
Sweet.
If I was assigning a word to everyone tonight, Tripp’s would be sweetheart. He was one of the only guys who’d even attempted to connect with me on some sort of human level, rather than just rattle off some overly rehearsed script.
“I’m Trace, by the way,” I said, realizing I was being rude.
“Oh, I know. And sorry if this is cheesy and you already heard it a million times tonight, but you really do look beautiful. Like, literally sparkling.”
Okay, I must have been tired, because freaking tears were welling in the corners of my eyes. I took a breath in through my nose and sucked them back into my eye sockets. I was not about to get all misty-eyed over one sincere compliment.
But that’s exactly what it was. Sincere. The first thing that had felt heartfelt all night.
“Thank you,” I said.
“And I’m sorry if this is also the millionth time you’ve heard this tonight, but I really enjoy your music, too.”
I thanked him with a blush before asking, “Where are you from?”
“Oh, right, duh. I’m from Tennessee, from a small town just south of Nashville.”
“Wait! Where? Me too!” My heart warmed as he gave the name of his town, one he was sure I’d never heard of. I told him I grew up just a few towns over and we bonded over that, sharing the names of our favorite spots.
“And what do you do? Sorry, I almost forgot to ask.”
He tapped his palm lightly against his head. “No, I forgot to say. They coached us on our introductions so many times, and of course I messed it up. I work in manufacturing. It’s my family’s business.”
Swoon. I was literally swooning. A sweet, seemingly kind, guy from a small town who worked at his family’s company. In the midst of all this stress and toxicity, had I stumbled into a Hallmark movie?
We both stood there, smiling at each other like idiots. Finally, Tripp cleared his throat and shook his head. “Shit, I think I’m supposed to go inside.” He winced. “Shit, I don’t think I’m supposed to say ‘shit.’”
“No, it’s fine, it’s not network TV,” Brady called. “Give each other one last glance and head inside.”
Tripp and I looked at the cameras and then back at each other, dipping our chins and giving each other a knowing look, an ‘isn’t this all completely ridiculous’ look.
Tripp nodded at me and then took a few long strides toward the open sliding-glass door. I could see all the men inside, congregating against the door to watch the introductions. My cheeks burned. I didn’t blame them for being curious, but it didn’t make me feel like any less of a spectacle.
“That’s a wrap on intros.” Brady clapped his hands a few times and there was a flurry of movement. “Let’s get set up inside. I’ll go talk to the guys, give them a quick rundown. Emma, you stay here with Trace.”
“Don’t I just go inside?” I asked, desperate to get this evening over with.
Emma took me by the arm and led me to a cushioned chair by a fire pit. “It’ll just be a few more minutes. Here, finish this protein bar while you’re waiting. Can’t have you passing out on us.”
“I still might,” I said, taking another bite of the disgusting, chalky bar.
“You know, your mom keeps calling production asking for updates.”
“Are you serious? It’s been barely over twenty-four hours.” Suddenly I was immensely grateful for my current predicament. A forced break from my mother? Maybe I should be looking at this more like a vacation than a prison sentence.
“She says there’re a few things you’re contracted to sign for your label? I’m not really sure. Technically, the contract you signed for the show doesn’t allow outside visitors, but they might make an exception depending on how persistent she is.”
“Oh, God. She’s being dramatic. The label knows I’m here and there's nothing I need to sign.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and shook my head.
Why couldn’t she just leave me alone? It was like she’d forgotten I was a completely grown and competent adult.
Though, in her eyes, I was likely anything but competent.
Static came through Emma’s walkie talkie, and she brought it to her ear. “Two more minutes,” Brady said.
“Got it. Trace is ready.”
I wanted to laugh. Was I ready? I didn't feel particularly prepared, but I was glad she was so confident.
“Did any guy catch your eye initially?” Emma asked. “They’ll ask you in an interview, so it’s good to practice what you might want to say.”
“Um, I’m not sure.” I was scared to reveal anything. I knew how production could use it against you later.
Emma tilted her head. “Come on, you can tell me. I know reality TV is scary, and you didn’t have the best experience last time, but this is different.
You’re our lead. We want a happy ending for you.
We want you to look good. You’re the reason people will be tuning in.
” She glanced back to make sure we were alone before turning to me again.
“And if we’re being honest, being a producer for a show like this isn’t my dream job.
I don’t have the stomach for manipulation. You can trust me.”
I nodded, still not fully believing her, but wanting someone to talk to all the same. “Honestly…I’m not sure I felt anything right off the bat for any of them.”
“Really? I thought you and Tripp were making eyes at each other.”
“He does seem nice,” I admitted, thinking about his brown eyes. “But I didn’t feel it.”
“It?” she questioned.
“It—you know. A spark. Something. I wanted to, though. He was so sweet.”
“We’re ready for you,” Brady said into the walkie.
Emma stood and gave me a hand up.
“You know, it could just be the nerves,” she started as we walked toward the house. “And sparks can develop over time. You don’t always feel them right away.”
“I guess.”
But I wasn’t sure if I meant it. She could be right, and maybe good relationships started with a soft ember or something less dramatic than a firework show. But it was hard for me to think about how little I felt right now and compare it to the last time I’d felt sparks.
They’d been immediate and all consuming, and just thinking about the cause of them gave me more butterflies than any man I’d met today.