Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
“I can’t believe we lost,” Austin said.
Grant laughed. “I can. You suck, dude.”
“You can’t pass to save your life.”
“You literally hit the net, like, every time.”
The two of them had been at it the entire walk from the beach back to the house. Their bickering was giving me a headache. Less than twenty-four hours on this damn show, and I’d already had enough of the other men.
Austin stormed off. Thank fuck. I couldn’t handle his incessant whining, and I was still pissed off about his little ball-throwing tantrum. If one of his bonehead stunts hurt Trace again, I wouldn’t be so forgiving. To hell with the show.
“I still can’t believe he’s lasted this long,” I said. Even if Trace hadn’t had a say in eliminating him, surely the crew must find him insufferable.
Grant shrugged. “Probably my fault. Brady said that Austin and me bickering all the time makes for good filler. But I can’t help but poke the little guy.”
I snorted. “He’s only, like, two inches shorter than you.”
Grant grinned. “And why let him forget it?”
I tipped my head, considering it. “Fair.”
Food had been set up for us in the kitchen, but my appetite was nowhere to be found.
Instead, I paced around the small, ridiculously modern living room, continuing to peek through the massive window.
The backyard stretched wide, boxed in by a fence that made the place feel like some damn compound.
But just beyond it lay the beach. I could barely make out Trace and the guys.
They were like ants dotting the sand, moving around—basically fucking frolicking.
“Careful. Don’t hit your head on the glass.”
“Shit.” I jerked away, not realizing Grant had crept up right next to me. I frowned and turned back to examine the “date.” A term I chose to use very loosely.
“What the hell do you think they’re doing out there?” I asked.
“Dunno. Maybe she’s confessing her undying love to them over a beachball and a Mai Tai.”
I only responded with a scowl.
He returned a lazy smile. “Kidding.”
Grant was full of shit, as usual, but irritation still simmered in my chest. I should have been out there right now. If it weren’t for Austin’s insane ineptitude at beach volleyball, I’d be talking to her instead of trapped inside.
I was well aware of the camera operator with his lens trained at our backs. They’d only spared a small team of two while the rest of the crew was out filming the date. The mic around my neck might as well be strangling me with its cord.
While initially the crew had been tailing me like my every movement mattered, now they hung back, barely paying attention.
They’d likely come to the swift realization that I was boring. My epic wedding-crashing yesterday was likely the only interesting content they’d get out of me. Unless, of course, one of these guys got in the way of me getting Trace back. Then we’d have a problem.
Speaking of which…I watched as Trace’s blonde waves disappeared into the water beside a tall, floppy-haired guy. Where was a pair of binoculars when you needed one?
“What’s that guy’s deal anyway?” I asked, jerking my chin in the direction of the beach.
Grant leaned against the sliding glass door. We’d both put T-shirts on but were still wearing our swim trunks.
“Which one?”
“Tripp.” I could barely get the name out.
Not because he’d been a jerk to me, or because he came off as particularly predatory.
No, it was the opposite. He actually seemed nice, like a halfway decent guy.
I could spot the concern in his gaze when he watched Trace because it was the same way I looked at her.
“Like I said last night, he was the front runner in this whole shebang. A shoo-in to be the winner, until you showed up. But Tripp is a good guy. Lays low, nice. Nothing to worry about.”
That’s where he was wrong. A good guy was exactly who I needed to be worried about.
I tried not to show how much pleasure I got from the fact that Grant thought I’d shaken things up.
I wanted that, but it didn’t mean anything if I didn’t know how she felt.
And even if she couldn’t deny her feelings for me, she could still reject me—still decide I’d hurt her too much already and want to move on.
I forced myself to believe that wasn’t an option.
“You think she likes him?” I asked.
He pursed his lips and waved one hand back and forth. “I think she wants to like him.”
It pained me to have to come to Grant like this, begging for scraps of information about the girl I should know better than anyone. I hated that he could offer me insight into her thoughts that I didn’t already know. But I was a man starved, and I’d take any crumb I could get.
“And now that I’m here?”
“Now, I think things just got a whole lot more complicated.” He shook his head laughing. “I can’t believe Brady was pushing an engagement just the other day.”
“What?” I snapped. My head spun toward Grant like it was on a swivel, and I took a step toward him.
Grant smirked. “He was trying to convince Tripp to propose, and Trace to accept. I think he could tell they were both on the fence. That’s probably why he called you—he needed another interesting angle to this snoozefest.”
“She wasn’t seriously considering it.” Thoughts and feelings whizzed through my mind. Jealousy. Confusion. Panic.
“Relax, D. It’d be like a showmance.”
“But a real engagement.” I was trying my best not to seethe, well aware we were still being recorded.
Engaged? A ring on her finger. A ring that I didn’t put there.
Grant chuckled and cocked an eyebrow. “You can’t exactly be upset about this. You were the one who ended things.”
“Yeah, but—”
I cut myself off at the risk of sounding like a dumbass brute.
Logically, I knew that Grant was one hundred percent correct.
I had no right to be upset over any choice Trace made.
Illogically, however, I was completely torn up at the thought that she’d even consider saying yes to such a ludicrous proposition.
Especially when I was still so hung up on her that it was sickening.
“Relax. There’s no way it’s ending in an engagement now. We all see the way she’s looking at you. It’s over, man.”
I wished I felt half as confident as he did. Even if I knew with absolute certainty that she still loved me, I still saw that unmistakable sign of defeat in her eyes. Like she’d already given up on me.
“Are you fine with me sweeping in like this at the final hour?” I asked, mostly for the camera’s benefit. I knew Grant and Trace had zero interest in each other, but maybe it would be better for my racing mind to talk about something orchestrated over something real.
He shrugged. “Trace is amazing, but it’s becoming pretty clear to me we’re better off as friends.”
“Retiring from reality shows after this?” I asked.
He smirked. “Hardly. This is basically a vacation for me.”
“Is it the thrill you’re addicted to?” I asked.
He laughed. “You’re one to talk. Out of the two of us, I don’t think that I’m the one addicted to thrills."
We both stared out the window.
“What’s next for you? Got another documentary up your sleeve?” he asked.
I licked my lips. “Maybe.”
The truth was, that had always been the dream.
Jaylon, Barrett, and I had spent all of our high school days talking about it, slacking off in school and dreaming big.
We made a ton of shitty amateur films at the skatepark, or out doing some rock climbing, much to my mother’s dismay.
Just because we’d successfully completed one film didn’t mean we wanted to slow down.
The plan had always been to make more. Three friends, checking off bucket-list items.
Recently, though, my bucket list had shrunk by quite a bit. I was down to one item in particular, actually. One that had nothing to do with adventure or the outdoors.
I stared at Trace. I could barely make out her blonde hair against the crashing waves. Was she laughing? I couldn’t tell.
Grant snorted, and I realized I wasn’t being much of a conversationalist. What the fuck else was new? “Yeah, you’ve got it bad. I don’t know why you ever dumped her to begin with. She was obviously too good for you.”
“Too good for any of you,” Austin said, sauntering back into the living room. His hair was damp from a shower, and he’d changed into yet another polo shirt. How many had he brought?
“Oh, and I suppose you’re good enough for Trace?” Grant asked, winking at me as if to say ‘play along.’
Austin paused in his tracks, as if surprised that Grant had chosen to engage with him. “I mean, I have a real job, for one. What do the two of you deadbeats do? Just wait around until some production company wants to give you another paycheck?”
My eyes flickered to Grant. I hoped they conveyed the message, ‘Do you want to kill him together or should I just do it alone?’
He held up a hand. “What do you do again? Real estate, or some bullshit? Isn’t the market terrible right now?”
Austin sat back on the very stiff-looking living room couch. “It’s good, if you know what you’re doing.”
“Huh, I heard it’s shit out there for realtors right now. That’s probably why you signed up for this show; nothing else to do. Or did you hope this would open a door? Maybe get you one of those real estate reality shows?” He chuckled. “How cute.”
Austin narrowed his eyes. “You’re full of shit, Grant. I’ve never been in this for the fame. I’m actually interested in getting to know Trace.”
“What’s her middle name?” Grant asked.
Austin faltered at that, looking to the ceiling as if he could somehow summon the answer there.
“Or, what town did she grow up in? Who’s her favorite country artist? What’s her mother’s name?”
Austin scoffed. “As if those superficial answers mean anything.”
Grant pushed off the glass door and folded his arms across his chest. “A middle name is superficial? Huh. Here I was thinking it was the bare minimum.” Then he turned to me. “What about you Danny? Can you answer all those questions?”
I nodded. “And then some.”
Austin launched himself off the couch, already fed up with us.
“Whatever. You’ve both known her longer.
It’s fucking cheating, is what it is.” Then he stormed over to the kitchen.
He yanked too hard on the fridge door and it got stuck.
He let out a frustrated grunt and pulled harder.
After a five second tantrum, the door finally gave way and opened.
“Man, I’ll miss him when he goes. It’s so fun to get under his skin,” Grant said with a sigh.
“Surprised he hasn’t smothered you with a pillow in your sleep yet.”
“Doubt he has the strength.”
“I can hear you!” Austin shouted, slamming the fridge door shut.
“He’s got to be leaving soon, right?” I asked, returning my attention to Trace’s date. She was off to the side talking with one of the guys. I squinted. Was it Christian? I really needed a damn telescope.
Grant shrugged. “Tough to say.” He glanced behind him, not right at the cameras but in their general direction.
“There’s another elimination tomorrow but…
I think he’ll probably be here to the end.
” He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head backward.
I got what he meant. Austin being a nuisance around the house was good TV. Brady wouldn’t let him go.
“There should be a rule that if you're a big enough dick, you’re automatically eliminated,” I muttered.
“Unfortunately, the only hard and fast rule is no violence. So, unless you two want to square up, we get the lovely task of dealing with the guy.”
“I really need to talk to her,” I said, watching as she tossed her head back, her curls flying in the wind. Yeah, she was definitely laughing. My heart ached a little. I hadn’t heard her laugh in so long.
“There’ll be a gathering of some sort before the elimination,” Grant said.
“I need to talk to her alone,” I clarified.
Grant tapped the window glass, indicating a glimpse of the edge of the guesthouse. “If only there was a way to sneak out to where she was staying.” His eyes twinkled, and it was like he was trying to hand me an idea. “Too bad this place is basically a fortress.”
I frowned, thoughts suddenly racing as I scanned the backyard between the house and the suite where Trace was staying.
“Yeah. Too bad.”