Chapter Seventeen
I’d like to introduce you to Ciara and Scott!” Shantae says with a hand flourish.
Beth Anne immediately stands and starts cheering.
She suddenly seems less concerned about her odds of winning America’s Favorite Contestant and more interested in the new arrivals.
But my attention is immediately pulled away from her when a beautiful Black woman in a cherry red string bikini and tattoos walks out.
“Damn,” Bill says at the same time as Javier whistles.
She strides over and stops next to Shantae, who announces: “Everyone, meet Ciara.”
Ciara gives a sexy wave. “Hi, everyone.”
“Oh my gosh, she’s gorgeous,” Madison says, and I nod in agreement.
“Holy hell,” Beth Anne squeaks, and I think she’s talking about Ciara until I see someone else coming our way.
“Holy hell is right,” I whisper under my breath to Madison. The guy walking toward us is one of the most attractive men I have ever seen. He’d have to be for me to finally agree with Beth Anne.
As he steps into the pool area in European-style swim trunks, he seems to walk toward me in slow motion.
He’s not too muscular, not too lanky—his fat-to-muscle ratio is Michelangelo-level perfection.
His bronzed skin, clean-cut face, with a strong jaw, thick eyebrows, and piercing blue eyes, looks familiar, like I’ve seen it in an expensive watch or luxury vehicle ad.
“I just got nervous,” TC says next to me.
“You should be,” I surprise everyone by saying out loud.
Shantae immediately quips, “Looks like Grace just joined the game.” TC and Javier laugh at this as Madison gives my knee an excited squeeze. Beth Anne shoots me an appraising glance, and I’m too embarrassed to look at Andrew to see if he heard.
The GQ model stops next to Ciara, and Shantae appreciatively says, “And this is Scott.” Beth Anne fans herself and looks like she might pass out. The good news is that I’ll be able to remember his name without having to make a new chart because Hot Scott is the perfect mnemonic device.
Shantae turns to the new arrivals and says, “How does it feel to know you’re joining the show once connections are already starting to form?”
“I’m not worried,” Scott says in a sexy voice tinged with a slight New York accent.
“Me neither,” Ciara agrees. “What I want, I get.”
“Shit just got real,” Javier says, breaking the tension, and we all laugh.
“Well, well, well. Things are finally getting interesting around here.” Shantae manages to smile in a way that is both seductive and condescending. “I’ll leave you to introduce yourselves.” And with that, she saunters off. Man, it must be nice only having to work fifteen minutes at a time.
Beth Anne immediately beelines to Scott, which is fine since I don’t think I’d be able to speak to him in complete sentences. Sadly, I’m starting to understand why the Fox Girls smile and touch their hair so much around my brother.
Thankfully, Madison pulls me away to go introduce ourselves to Ciara.
After we mingle for a while, I learn that Ciara is a sex-positive badass and very down to earth.
When I ask about her tattoos, she explains that she’s a classically trained artist but after art school decided that her preferred medium was bodies.
After three years of apprenticeship, she now owns her own tattoo parlor in Las Vegas.
Unlike Madison, I can’t work up the nerve to meet Hot Scott, but she reports back that he has in fact done some modeling so I might have recognized him from an advertisement.
He’s also an investment banker and lives in Manhattan.
Which means, not only is he painfully handsome, but he’s also successful and has a real job. I might be in trouble.
“Hey, y’all!” Beth Anne’s sugary voice cuts through the crowd, her Southern accent even thicker than usual.
“I propose a toast to welcome Scott and Ciara,” she says as she lifts a shot glass.
Bill helps hand out amber-colored shots to everyone, and I surprise myself by accepting one.
I can count on one hand how many times I’ve done a shot.
“Welcome to Love Shack,” Beth Anne drawls, and you never would’ve known she had been crying less than an hour ago. “May you find lasting love . . .” She stops and turns to Scott. “. . . Or at least a really good time. Cheers!”
Everyone yells “Cheers!” and clinks their glasses. I look at Madison and shrug. “When in Malibu . . .”
I tip back my glass and am immediately reminded why I don’t do shots. Holy Louis Pasteur! What kind of poison is this?! I almost cough up whatever “Fireball” is until the burning finally subsides.
After the corrosive liquid undoubtedly causes permanent damage to my larynx, Hot Scott turns to look at me.
His gaze is so powerful, I can’t look away.
“You must be Grace. I like your dress,” he says, and I feel his voice rumble around my body.
I look down at Madison’s tight aqua dress and make a mental note to write her a long thank-you letter.
“I like your . . .”—I look at his short blue trunks, his broad chest, his handsome face—“. . . everything.” I slap my hands over my mouth in mortification.
But Scott just laughs. “I like a woman who’s forward. It’s less work for me.”
And then I do something I’ve never done in my entire twenty-nine years. I giggle.
“I have a confession to make,” Hot Scott says as I stare at his lips.
“What’s that?”
“I looked up all the contestants before I came on the show, and I was most excited to meet you.”
“Me? Why?!”
Scott smiles, amused. “I used to have a crush on my middle school librarian, so I guess I’ve always had a thing for smart girls in glasses.”
“Oh,” I say shyly, as I wonder if the general population of bespectacled women know how many men have a glasses fetish. I can’t wait to tell Cassie. Knowing her, she’ll try to ruin her eyes just to get guys to notice her.
I smile at Hot Scott and am about to attempt flirting or even just talking in complete sentences when Beth Anne comes barging over in a practically nonexistent bikini. When did she even change? She touches Scott’s arm and asks me, “Can I steal him?”
“What?” I say, confused as to why she’s interrupting our conversation.
“I’m just gonna grab him for a minute,” Beth Anne says with a sickeningly sweet fake smile, as if this were normal behavior. Who drags a person away when someone else is in the middle of talking to them?
But to my surprise, Scott turns to me and says, “I’ll catch up with you later, Grace.” And then he follows Beth Anne over to the pool.
What the hell just happened? I thought Beth Anne and I made some headway earlier. Is she trying to sabotage me or is this some sort of socially accepted reality show etiquette I’m not aware of? I leave the bar and rush over to dissect with Madison.
“I saw you talking to Scott,” Madison prompts the second I sit down next to her, Ciara, TC, and Javier on the lounge furniture. “How’d it go?” Then she must see the bewilderment on my face. “What happened?”
“It was fine, but then Beth Anne just took him away in the middle of our conversation. She literally asked if she could steal him. Who does that?”
They all laugh at my expression, and Madison explains to Ciara, “Grace has never seen a reality show.”
Ciara nods in understanding. “Well, don’t take it personally. It’s just a thing people do on reality—ahhhhh!!” All of a sudden, Ciara is screaming.
Javier looks down and yells, “Snake! Oh shit! Snake!” and he jumps up onto the couch. TC grabs Madison and pulls her halfway across the patio. Ciara is still frozen in fear as a large brown-and-tan snake slithers underneath her.
“You’re okay,” I say calmly to Ciara and then reach down for it.
“Don’t touch it! It could be poisonous!” Javier yells as I gently pick up the snake from its midsection and it begins crawling onto my other hand.
“No! Uh-uh. No way,” Ciara is muttering near me.
“It’s only a gopher snake. See its markings? It’s harmless. Well, unless you’re a small mammal.” I carry the snake over to the tall grass on the side of the yard.
I hear Kristina yell to a camera operator to follow me.
When I look back, she’s hiding behind Blue and Andrew for safety and everyone else on set has stopped to watch me.
I shake my head. All this fuss over a snake?
I gently release it into the grass. “There you go, little buddy.” And I watch as it slithers away.
When I walk back to the patio, everyone is clapping for me. Blue gives me a big thumbs-up, and even Andrew looks impressed.
Ciara rushes over and gives me a big hug. “You saved my life. I guess we have to be friends now.”
“You were never in danger. It’s actually a beneficial species. They help control the rodent population.”
Ciara pulls back from me. “Do you want to be friends or not?”
I laugh. “I do.”
Then Javier crushes me with one of his bear hugs. “I promise I’ll protect you if a mugger or bear attacks, but I don’t fuck with snakes.”
I smile at him. “It’s okay, Javi. I’ll defend you. Again.” I wink at him, and he laughs and squeezes me even tighter.
Then they all pepper me with questions that I actually care about.
Instead of inane small talk about astrological signs and weight loss injections, I get to explain to them that the only potentially dangerous snakes in Southern California are rattlesnakes.
Or sidewinders if you’re in the Sonoran Desert.
Ciara and Javier want to know how to identify and avoid rattlers, and Madison asks if any species are vulnerable to habitat destruction.
It’s the first time on this show that I’ve actually felt in my element.
And despite what my family thinks, they’re all interested in hearing more.
That is, until Kristina comes over. “Okay, that’s enough Bill Nye.
Let’s talk about stuff that won’t put the audience to sleep.
” Andrew rolls his eyes behind her back, but when he catches my gaze he turns away.
Then Kristina motions to where Beth Anne, Scott, and Bill are drinking at the pool bar.
“Can’t you be more like them? Go! Drink! Do something interesting!”
The other contestants make their way to the bar as Kristina tells me to meet her for my “confessional” in ten minutes, then strides off toward the mansion.
And once again, I’m left alone with Andrew. I can’t help but notice he’s rolled up his sleeves again as I prepare myself for a diatribe about my little stunt earlier with Beth Anne. But to my surprise, he says, “I didn’t see ‘snake whisperer’ on your résumé. I thought you worked with amphibians.”
“You’ve read my résumé?”
“I vet all the contestants before the show. Did you know that you have two PhDs?” he says with that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that elicits a disturbing reaction in me. It makes me want to flirt back.
“Does my saving Ciara’s life mean you’re dropping charges against me? I would imagine a contestant dying from a snake bite is a worse legal nightmare than a locked door.”
“Except, as you pointed out, it wasn’t a venomous snake. So, while we won’t be litigating, you’re still my biggest headache.”
“I’ll take that as a win.”
“It’s like you enjoy getting under my skin,” he says, arms crossed.
I do, I think. I really do. I give him a nonchalant shrug. “It was fun at first, but now it’s almost too easy. Maybe your skin is too thin?” And then, without thinking, I rub his forearm. He turns it over, offering me the inside, inviting me to touch him.
So I do. I trail my fingers slowly on the inside of his arm. A muscle in his jaw ticks.
My eyes shoot up to meet his. I shouldn’t be touching him.
And he shouldn’t be letting me. He must come to his senses at the same time because he slowly takes his arm back.
Then he looks around as if he’s forgotten where he is before meeting my eye.
He’s back to that searching gaze like he’s trying to figure me out.
I shrug and say, “Sorry. Fireball.”
And then he does something that truly shocks me. He laughs. And it transforms his entire being. If I had met laughing Andrew instead of uptight lawyer Andrew, I’d have formed a very different opinion of him.
I’m on the verge of laughing too, until a loud cheer erupts from the bar and I turn to see the other contestants drinking more Fireball. “Should I be doing more shots before this confessional with Kristina?” I ask him.
“You may want to,” Andrew says, with a hint of disdain in his voice.
“She’s particularly skilled at getting people to say whatever she wants them to say.
” Then he raises an eyebrow, glancing at my hands.
“If you think you can keep your hands to yourself.” He says this in a way that I can immediately feel low in my stomach.
Holy shit, I’ve got to stop being turned on by Andrew Benson, Esquire!
Luckily, Blue interrupts my racing thoughts by coming to collect me for my confessional with Kristina. “You ready, Grace?” he asks, before adding, “You look nervous.”
Nervous is not what I’m currently feeling. I shoot a guilty look at Andrew, who just watches me in amusement. I feel my face heating up. Does he know the effect he has on me?
“Don’t worry,” Blue says. “You’ll do fine.”
Andrew grins at me. “I’m sure you don’t have any sins to confess.”
I give him my sassiest stare-down. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Yeah, I think I would,” I hear him mutter under his breath as he shakes his head, turning away.