Chapter 30
Wes
While the production crew sets up the next shot, Morrie pulls me aside to film a confessional. “Try not to gloat too much,” he mutters. “We don’t want you to look like a dork and a sore winner.”
Another producer, whose name I’ve now confirmed is Lyle, coaches me on the type of sound bites they’re looking for today.
“Tell us about how it felt to be victorious, but try to tie it in with Harmony. How you did it all for her, or how you hope she noticed. That sort of thing. Don’t be afraid to get too cheesy.
Reality TV is a dairy-friendly environment. ”
I’ll try to rely on the trick I used last time, thinking of Nina while I’m talking about Harmony. That definitely strayed into extra-cheesy territory, but it was all from the heart, so it didn’t feel quite so skeevy.
It seems like Morrie is thinking about the last confessional, too, since he gives me a pointed look. “Don’t worry about Wes. He puts the cheese in cheeseball.”
I widen my eyes at Morrie, who definitely just called me the wrong name. “Nate,” I correct him through gritted teeth.
Morrie’s eyes widen back at me, and he grimaces. Sorry, he mouths.
Luckily Lyle seems to be distracted by something on my outfit. “The shirt is sitting on you kinda funny after all that running and climbing and whatnot.” He turns, calling out, “Can we get someone from wardrobe over here? Oh, Nina! Can you come fix his shirt, Wild Card?”
Wild Card? Although I’m intrigued by the nickname, I’m immediately distracted as Nina approaches. Something in the set of her chin tells me she’s going to try her best to remain professional throughout this entire exchange and not let on that she knows me. It’s pretty freaking adorable, honestly.
I’m the seasoned FBI agent here, so I should be the one making sure no one clocks that we know each other—especially with Lyle and the cameraman observing this entire exchange, not to mention recording it.
But I was always that kid—you know, the one whose mom told him, “don’t push that button” and he had to try it, at least one time, just to see what it would do.
I really want to push Nina’s buttons. All of them. I want to find out what each one does.
Ignoring Morrie’s warning look, I give Nina a polite smile as she approaches.
“Hey, Nina, right?” As if she hasn’t been the person helping me with my outfits all week, or like I hadn’t just heard Lyle call her name.
It might be overkill, but if we’re supposed to be strangers, I’m going to play up the fact that we’re strangers.
Hence, pretending I can’t confidently recall her name.
Nina narrows her eyes at me, just a little.
It’s probably not something anyone else would notice, but I had a long time in prison to study each and every one of her expressions and learn exactly what they mean.
And this one means she’s amused at my dastardly subterfuge but trying not to let on that she finds me impossibly funny and charming.
Or something along those lines. “That’s right,” she hedges.
“Did you see me win that obstacle challenge?” I ask her. “Pretty cool, huh?”
She doesn’t answer me, just busies herself with adjusting my shirt, smoothing the flat part of her palm down over the creases.
I let her do her work for a moment, enjoying watching her up close—the sweet slope of her cheek and the little upturn of her nose and the slight parting of her lips as she concentrates.
Then abruptly, I shiver and let out a short but loud whoo.
She jumps, and it makes me grin, as does the reprimanding look she gives me. “Ticklish,” I tell her.
Nina ignores that as she gives my shirt one last tug. She’s smiling, though. God, I love her smile. “Better?” she asks Lyle, turning to gauge his reaction.
He tilts his head, studying me, then nods. “Much better.”
Nina glances at me one last time before turning to leave. I can’t let her get away that easily, though. “Oh, Nina!”
She stops, looking warily amused as she waits to see what stunt I’ll pull next. “Yes?”
I glance over at Lyle. Luckily, he’s giving some quick instructions to the cameraman, so I decide to take my chance.
I turn back to her. “When I was coming into town, I heard a lot of rumors that there’ve been some break-ins at the Lodge. You might want to make sure your door is locked.” I meet her gaze meaningfully. “Check the window, too, to see if it’s locked.”
I let the words linger in the air for a moment, hoping she’ll pick up what I’m putting down. I’ll come by again tonight. Keep the window unlocked.
Nina nods, just slightly. Enough for only me to see. “I definitely will—”
“There you are!”
A bright, sunny voice cuts through our exchange. I recognize it immediately, and I can tell by the look on Nina’s face that she does, too.
Harmony.
Turning in surprise, I see Harmony approaching, beaming as she throws herself into my arms for an embrace. Over her shoulder, I see Lyle frantically motion to the cameraman. “Are we rolling?” he hisses.
I turn my focus back to Harmony as she pulls away long enough to kiss my cheek. Don’t look at Nina, I school myself mentally. Don’t look at Nina. Instead, I do my best to give Harmony an easy smile. “Hey, you. What are you doing over here?” I glance toward the producers. “Is this allowed?”
Harmony swats my chest playfully. “I’m a Mountainette. I make my own rules.” She casts a cheeky look directly at the camera. “Isn’t that right?”
“That’s right!” Lyle calls to her, then motions for us to keep going.
I look down at Harmony’s expectant face.
I need to do something to be in the moment, be in character, but knowing that Nina is standing two feet away makes my mind go completely blank.
I don’t know how to pretend to be anything but who I really am in front of her.
That’s always the way it’s been—even back when we met, when I was supposed to be Cass, a smooth-talking, hardened criminal.
Whenever she was around, I could only be cheeseball Wes, so besotted with a pair of beautiful dark eyes that I couldn’t think straight.
“Did you see me win?” I ask finally.
Harmony nods enthusiastically. “That was so . . . unexpected, Nate. Where did you learn to do all of those things, like shooting a bullseye on the first try?”
Yeah . . . I guess I didn’t really think through how to explain that. I shrug. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”
A slightly awkward pause follows, then lengthens as I try to think of something to say. I struggle to find Nate R., the guy who’s meant to be completely twitterpated with Harmony. She’s looking at me expectantly, so I clear my throat. “And I hoped you were watching. I wanted to impress you.”
Harmony squeezes my arm, smiling coyly up at me. “Well, it worked.”
I hate this. I hate having to do this in front of Nina. Instinctively, I start to look over at her before quickly correcting myself—but it’s too late. Harmony follows my gaze, glancing behind her at her cousin. “Nina. Can you give us some privacy, please?”
I let myself peek at Nina just long enough to see the way her expression changes, the way she visibly withdraws when only moments ago she was so open and happy. Pain flashes through her eyes, too quick to notice if you weren’t looking carefully.
“Of course.” She retreats toward where the rest of the production crew is congregating. You’d never know looking at her that she’s anything but fine if it weren’t for the way she’s clenching her fists. Tight. Too tight.
She’s going to hurt herself doing that. I swallow, hard, as I wrench my gaze away from Nina and back to Harmony.
It takes everything in me not to run after her.