Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
winnie
When they finally arrive at the hotel, Winnie practically falls off the bus and rolls into the lobby.
She collapses onto the first couch she sees, quickly followed by her friends.
Cynthia and Harper drop their heads on her shoulders, while Charlotte drapes her legs over their laps.
They’re a verifiable heap of limbs and puffy jackets.
“I need a hydrating sheet mask pronto.” Charlotte sighs and pushes her fingers into her cheeks. “My skin is like sandpaper after all that travel.”
“I need a latte,” Winnie groans.
“I need a doughnut,” Cynthia grumbles.
“I need a nap.”
Harper’s dry quip makes Winnie smile despite the exhaustion. She peeks down at her friend. “I’m pretty sure you spent the past two hours drooling on the bus window.”
“Pictures or it didn’t happen,” Harper answers through a yawn, already starting to close her eyes again.
“They confiscated our phones, remember?” Charlotte chimes in, still poking at her face.
“Mmm.” Harper gives a sleepy grin. “Too bad.”
“Where the hell are we, anyway?” Winnie asks, her curiosity proving stronger than her exhaustion.
The vast lobby is what she would describe as rustic chic, wide stone floors leading to a central rock garden surrounded by a spiral iron staircase, all accented by the natural wooden grains of the exposed ceiling and walls.
It’s dark but cozy, guiding her eyes easily through the interior to the sweeping veranda on the other side—rolling green hills, sharp mountain peaks, snowcaps in the distance, and a small, still lake reflecting back the perfectly blue sky.
It’s similar to the view from the bus, but unlike anything she’s seen before.
Iceland is ridiculously beautiful. While most of the girls smartly took the time on the drive to catch up on sleep, Winnie was glued to the window, watching the landscape shift from black lava rubble to mossy hills spotted with sheep to sharp cliffs and glistening waterfalls.
Every so often, she looked over at Cynthia, the only other girl awake, and they shared a glance of silent wonder.
They’re paying for it now though.
A yawn rips through her at the same time as a little bell chimes. All the women jolt. A hotel employee suddenly appears, brandishing the same silver tray they’ve all come to love and loathe. A single white envelope rests on top.
“A date?” Cynthia groans. “Seriously?”
“That’s just cruel,” Charlotte adds as they watch Victoria make a mad dash across the lobby.
Winnie can barely even move her eyes fast enough to follow. “How is she so peppy right now?”
“Adderall,” Harper comments.
Charlotte needles her in the ribs. “Staaaap.”
“Ow, no, ow,” Harper half moans, half laughs as she squirms. “I’m too tired for tickles right now.”
“Shh!”
They quiet down as Victoria rips open the envelope.
She scans the page, her expression darkening.
She seems to read it again, her fingertips turning white as she tightens her grip on the small paper.
Her nostrils flare. She clenches her jaw.
Then, as if remembering the cameras, she suddenly looks up as happy as a clam as she takes a deep inhale and forces a smile to her lips.
“Winnie,” she starts, unable to quite erase the grit from her voice. “Let’s explore our love. Tyler.”
If looks could kill, Victoria’s would burn Winnie to a crisp on the spot, but she’s too shocked to care.
Hers was the absolute last name she expected to be on that card.
They practically had a one-on-one the night of the puzzle ceremony.
She never in a million years thought the producers would allow her to see him again so soon.
“Me?” Winnie blurts like an idiot.
Victoria rolls her eyes, drops the ruined card on the tray, and stomps back to her seat.
Winnie glances between her friends. “She said me, right?”
They squeeze her forearms and nod vigorously. She jumps to her feet as a rush of adrenaline pumps through her.
“I have to get ready!” Winnie stammers as she glances about the lobby, looking for her suitcase. “Where are we going? What should I wear?”
“You have twenty minutes.” Nina steps forward, pulling Winnie’s luggage behind her. “Dress warm.”
“Twenty minutes?!” Winnie, Harper, Cynthia, and Charlotte all repeat at the same time.
Nina opens the door to the lobby restroom. “You can change in here.”
Five minutes later, she’s perched on top of her suitcase, the entire contents of which are sprawled across the floor.
Cynthia digs for an outfit while Harper tugs at her hair and Charlotte concentrates on her face.
She’d be totally lost without them. Even though Harper is a little sportier, she’s surprisingly amazing with hair.
Apparently, braids are the best way to keep things tight and secure on game day.
Winnie is not complaining as her friend pulls her slightly greasy, travel-worn locks into a stunning updo she’ll never be able to replicate in a million years.
And Charlotte is, well, Charlotte. A makeup wizard.
“How’s this?” Cynthia asks from her hands and knees, elbow-deep in a pile of clothes.
With a hard yank, she reveals the fleece-lined black leggings Winnie bought specifically for the show after reading the suggested packing list, and a ridiculous faux-fur vest she had to have the moment she saw it while wandering around SoHo.
They should go perfectly with the evergreen turtleneck she already put on.
“Thank you!” Winnie smiles gratefully and grabs the items. Cynthia stuffs a few pieces of jewelry in her hands as well. When she finishes getting dressed, she looks at herself in the mirror with a deep breath, unsure. She turns to her friends. “Too much?”
Harper narrows her eyes and scans. “You look a bit like Arctic Barbie.”
“Hey.” Cynthia pushes her gently with a laugh, as if taking offense. She did pick the outfit, after all.
Charlotte ignores them and grins. “You look great.”
A knock sounds at the door while Winnie scans the mirror once more. She shrugs. “Time’s up.”
The producers lead her back outside and into a beat-up jeep with massive wheels, which is concerning enough—and that’s before they place a blindfold over her eyes to “keep it a secret.” Winnie spends the next forty-five minutes holding on to the seat in front of her for dear life as she’s bounced around like a stuffie on a spin cycle.
Nina is, undoubtedly, watching with a gleeful smile on her face.
Somehow, Winnie can hear it when she speaks.
That asshole. It’s revenge for forcing Tyler’s hand last night.
It’s got to be. Cruel, cruel revenge. Winnie is just about to say so when the jeep finally pulls to a stop.
“Oh, sweet Jesus. Thank god.”
Winnie drops her head back, fighting the jet lag and the dizziness and the mounting nausea as she takes a moment to simply breathe. The door opens. A cool breeze sweeps blissfully across her cheeks.
“This date better freaking be worth it,” she mutters.
“Good to see you too.”
The deep rumble of his voice sends her body into an entirely new sort of tizzy.
“Ty!” She reaches for the blindfold, but he grabs her hands, stopping her.
“Not yet.” He must sense the pointed glare aimed his way through the black material, because he laughs softly. “Don’t blame me. Production’s orders.”
“Oh, really?” she snarks. “What’d they say?”
“To get you out of the car, walk you about ten feet to the left, and then remove your blindfold.”
She crosses her arms. “Hmph.”
Ty suddenly swings her around by her thighs and tugs her forward.
She reaches up instinctively to catch her balance, hands finding a hold on his chest. He slides his palms up and over her hips.
Soft breath tickles her skin. He brushes her cheeks with his thumbs, then digs his hands through her hair.
This blindfold thing is definitely growing on her.
It’s a bit exhilarating, if she’s being honest. To be at his mercy like this, not sure where he’s going to go next.
Because she trusts him completely. There’s no fear, just anticipation.
Her heart beats wildly in her chest with the waiting, the wondering.
When he finally presses his lips to her throat, she gasps.
The asshole grins against her skin—she can feel it—but the fireworks display happening inside her body right now is so deliciously wonderful she can’t bring herself to protest.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
She snorts. “I just spent five hours on a bus with you.”
“It’s not the same,” he groans, peppering kisses along her jawbone. “Being that close to you without being able to touch you is fucking torture, Win.”
His mouth finally finds hers. Whatever response she was going to make is swallowed up by the demanding pressure of his lips, the possessive stroke of his tongue.
She fists his sweater and pulls him closer.
Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist. His large hands drop to her hips and slip beneath her vest. The temperature jumps from zero to one hundred, the heat between them sparking to a wildfire beyond their control.
It’s been pent up, contained, ignored for too long.
The slightest touch is all it takes to unleash.
“Okay,” Nina shouts. “Okay. Okay! OKAY!”
Tyler finally snaps back. He groans against Winnie’s throat, then nips at her ear. “I could ignore her all day, but this date is actually pretty cool.”
“What are—” She breaks off when he dips his hands to her ass and hoists her up, prompting her to drop her head to his shoulder with a laugh. “Is this your new kink or something?”
“What?”
“Carrying me around like a backpack all the time?”
“That depends.”
“On what?”
He turns his face into her shoulder, voice low for only her to hear. “On whether or not you plan to keep giving me hard-ons in public all the time?”