Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“You look dead on your feet,” Emma said, taking a powder puff and dabbing it against my sweaty forehead.
This first evening of introductions seemed like it would drag on forever, and although I hadn’t checked a mirror in hours, I was convinced my makeup had completely run down my face by now.
Was this what Florida in June was like? Brady had claimed they were having an unusually hot start to the summer, but this was just miserable.
A constant layer of humidity blanketed everything.
We’d been doing a combination of indoor and outdoor filming, so the air conditioning never got a chance to fully cool me down as I was ushered from place to place.
At this point, my vision was slightly blurred and there was a dull ringing in my ears I couldn’t seem to shake. They were lucky I didn’t faint.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
Emma lowered her chin and frowned, dragging her eyes up and down my limp frame.
“I swear!” I insisted. “Just a little tired is all.”
That was a gross understatement. I was absolutely exhausted.
It had occurred to me, while pounding a cup of coffee before talking to the second Chris at nearly midnight, that it was physically impossible to feel even a mild sense of attraction under these conditions.
The men were all getting muddled together, and the only fantasizing I was doing was thinking about how incredible my bed was going to feel when I finally sank into it.
Emma had pulled me aside to a hallway off to the side of the house. It must be where the men stayed, because I caught sight of bunk beds through a partially open door. Poor guys. At least I got to be alone at night.
A camera operator had a camera trained on me while Emma stood just behind the lens.
We’d just done a short interview where she’d asked me generic questions about how I was doing, and who I thought was the cutest. I’d tried giving her my full attention, but all I could think about was the way-too-heavy dress still clinging to my frame and the approximately one million bobby pins in my hair that were starting to come loose and dig into my scalp.
“You have to talk to a couple more guys and then it’s time for elimination,” Emma said.
“How long will that take?”
She hesitated, her mouth parting then closing again, as if she was reluctant to give me an answer. “Maybe an hour… or two. Three hours, tops.”
“Three hours,” I repeated, nearly choking on the words.
She frowned. “I know, it sucks. But this is the longest filming day on the schedule by far. We have to fit in so much, and there are so many men to introduce. The rest of the show will be better. I promise. Fun, even.”
I highly doubted that. I’d talked to nearly every guy one-on-one so far, and I wasn’t exactly blown away. Most of them seemed far more interested in making friends with each other and ensuring their good side always faced the camera than they were in getting to know me.
Emma consulted her tablet. “You haven’t talked to Austin yet.
I’ll get him ready in the living room. You take another minute to collect yourself and then we’ll need you to go get him for a short chat.
” She squeezed my arm. “You’re doing amazing.
Charming and sweet. Exactly what America will want to see. ”
As soon as she left me alone in the hallway, I leaned against the wall, letting my head fall back against the cool surface. The caffeine they’d been forcing down my throat, combined with a nearly empty stomach, had started to make my hands shake.
“How’ya doing, Champ?”
I opened one eye to find Grant leaning against the wall opposite me. I hadn’t even heard him approach.
“Aren’t we not supposed to talk off camera?” I asked.
“I thought I was special.” He winked at me, and I shook my head, biting back a smile.
“What are you really doing here, Grant?” We both knew his whole explanation about unfinished business and lingering chemistry between us was bullshit.
He tapped his fingers against the wall, glancing around to make sure there wasn’t a camera on him.
“It was my agent’s idea. We’re the most viral reality TV cast in decades.
People love to watch any of us interact.
She’s the one who brought up the idea to Brady of me coming on the show, and he ate it up. ”
“Of course he did.” I sighed, pushing myself off the wall. “Shoot, here I was holding out hope you were secretly harboring feelings for me.”
Grant grinned. “Is that right? I think I feel something stirring in my gut as we speak. You do look phenomenal in that dress, by the way.”
I rolled my eyes but smiled back. “Thanks.”
Emma peeked around the corner, jumping when she saw Grant standing there with me. “You’re not supposed to be here,” she hissed.
He blinked at her innocently. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
She placed a hand on her hip and threw a finger behind her. “Back to the living room.”
“Demanding. You know, I like being bossed around by a woman,” Grant said with a smirk.
“What-uh…” Emma’s lips parted as a flush crept onto her cheeks.
“Ignore him,” I said.
She finally seemed to collect herself, narrowed her eyes, and shot Grant a look. Then she signaled for me to follow her. “Come on, Trace. I have Austin set up for you.”
Great, this feels natural.
I trailed behind her through the modern maze of a house. Chatter grew louder as we approached the main living area.
I squared my shoulders and pried open my droopy lids. My shaking hands stilled when I squeezed them into fists. Looking worn-out on camera was not an option. This show was supposed to help my image.
Nearly all of the guys were seated around the two giant sofas that faced each other. Half of them stood when I entered the room.
“Evening, y’all,” I said with forced brightness. “Austin, can I steal you for a second?”
Austin’s wolfish smile grew bigger as he stood up and edged his way over to me.
“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” he whispered when he reached me, brushing a hand to my lower back. I tried not to recoil at his touch.
He led me away from the rest of the guys, stopping at the glass French doors that led to an empty study. A cameraman followed us.
I couldn’t wait to get this one over with. Something about this guy rubbed me the wrong way. He was definitely my top pick to go home tonight.
We settled together into the leather loveseat. Bookshelves lined the sparse room, but instead of bringing warmth and life into the space, each spine was a different shade of gray, making the energy somehow even duller.
“So, Austin, tell me more. What made you sign up for all this?” I asked.
It was the same question I’d posed to most of the guys. I’d received a colorful array of answers so far.
“I’m dying to find ‘the one.’” (Jeremy, the dentist)
“I’m here for the experience.” (Pat, the part-time magician)
“I was supposed to leave for a new job in London that just fell through, so when I got the casting call, it seemed like fate.” (Isaac. I appreciated the honesty of that one.)
“You’re my dream girl.” (Heard that from a few. Not so sure I believed them.)
Austin leaned back, stroking his chin as if he wanted to make sure he looked like he was giving the answer a lot of thought. “You know, I really just want to settle down,” he said.
“Really?” I hadn’t meant for my tone to hold so much disbelief. Oops.
“It’s all I think about.” He placed his arm around the back of the couch. When he let his thumb drop down and brush my bare shoulder, goose bumps pricked my skin—and not the good kind. “Don’t you think about settling down?”
“I mean, do I want to meet the love of my life? Sure. But I still dream about my music. Writing songs. Connecting with people. I feel like I’m just getting started.”
He nodded and brought his other hand to his chin.
“I guess for me, I already have it all. A great job, a beautiful house, a nice car, a decent social life. My friends keep saying I’m this big catch.
” Austin ducked his head and chuckled in a show of humility—which was exactly what it felt like, a show.
“But it’s time I find someone worthy of being my life partner,” he finished.
My facial muscles worked overtime not to contort into an expression of disgust. “Wow,” I managed to get out.
Austin swept up my hands in his, and I forced myself to keep them there, very aware of the cameraman capturing our every move from the doorway.
“I think you could be that person, Trace. You’re successful, driven, sweet. I could see you fitting perfectly into my life. I know that’s a lot for what’s essentially our first date.” He paused to chuckle again. “But I want to be honest. Get it all out in the open.”
My gag reflex nearly triggered. Was this guy serious? Did he think this was charming?
“Um, wow,” I repeated, because what was I supposed to say to such a self-centered, egotistical monologue?
He kept his eyes trained on me, expectantly, like he wanted me to melt into him or something.
“I’m…glad you’ve given this a lot of thought. It sounds like you’re really serious about meeting someone,” I finally said.
“I’m serious about meeting you.” His voice deepened and his eyelids seemed to grow heavy.
There went my pesky gag reflex again.
I waited a beat for him to ask me something about myself.
What I was looking for. Where I saw myself.
What I wanted out of my career. Anything.
But he just kept relentlessly staring into my eyes.
His gaze flickered to my lips. Then his eyes drifted close as he leaned in. He was eight inches away. Now six.
I jerked back before he could get closer to his target. Was this guy seriously trying to kiss me right now? After a five second conversation where he only talked about himself? Talk about being completely inept at reading signals.
“Oh, uh, sorry, Austin. I told myself I wouldn’t kiss on the first night.” I scootched away from him on the loveseat until my back hit the arm.