Night one was a success, with a few edges that will need rounding out in production.

Our bachelor started off a little stiff but seemed to soften up as the night went on. I get the sense he will come around to the process once he settles in.

Hard to say which daters Emmett has the most friction or chemistry with at this point.

As narrative unfolds in the bunkhouse, I will report back to you. Footage in the limo shows a nice little camaraderie forming between Jada, Akira, and Catherine. Evelyn did not partake in their conversation at all. In fact, rough footage captured a very evident eye roll and general irritation with the other girls.

In watching them so far I feel that Evelyn might be the perfect villain for this season. She said during B-roll that she wants to become an actress and I think she could bring some of that thespian energy to the show. I will keep an eye out for any women who we might be able to play off her.

According to the studio accounting department, the first payment to Emmett has gone through. Future payments will fall at the 50% point and upon completion.

Sincerely,

Teri Baker

Story Producer

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 10

Julia

I DRAG MYSELF OUT of bed after a fitful night of sleep. Thoughts about Richard, Emmett, and Emmett’s true reasons for signing up for the show kept me up thinking—overthinking.

I don’t know what I expected from him yesterday, but it wasn’t the dread on his face, or the self-loathing that coated his every move on camera.

After over two years of avoiding thinking about Emmett Bush at all costs, I caved last night and let my brain run rampant with all my questions about him.

Why does he hate my brother? If he does, then why does he speak so highly of him to his family? Why did he bother staying with me that whole night on the cruise ship when he could have dumped me off at medical? And if he’s so full of himself, why didn’t he use that night to brag about being a hero?

But all my thoughts only led me to an entirely different question: Who is Emmett Bush?

Because I’m starting to think I don’t know the answer to that at all.

Last night, I’d lain awake, replaying the moment that one contestant, Evelyn, approached him. The way she’d tugged on his tie and slipped her hand into his suit jacket as if she knew him, as if he’d invited it.

And then I’d tried to remember the look on his face. Part of me thinks he’d gone stock-still, frozen up in surprise, but maybe that was all in my head. Maybe I was just watching the interaction through the lens of someone who has avoided physical contact with the opposite sex for the past two-plus years.

I sit on the edge of my mattress, head dropped in my hands, as I search for some shreds of energy to get started on what is only day two of this show.

As I struggle to wake up, I continue to think about that moment, because something about it isn’t sitting right with me.

Clearly, I didn’t know about the financial troubles that his family or their farm had fallen into. And as I pad to the bathroom and stare back at my tired-looking face, I decide that I can’t make Emmett more comfortable than he is with what the show requires of him. But I can set the stage—seek comfortable locations—for great TV that will make completing the task a bit easier for him.

It’s a simple, neighborly sort of kindness.

My mom has often told me that we can only control what only we can control. And this is exactly that.

A fresh lens on the experience makes me feel better about my role in this seedy mess. With a steadier focus, I twist my unruly curls up into a bun on my way to the kitchen. The rich scent of coffee fills the air after I press the start button on the pot I had the foresight to prep before bed—despite being dog-tired.

Once it’s ready, mug in hand, I pad out into my plant-infested living room and plunk down on my too-soft love seat. My laptop waits on the cushion beside me. I flick it open and type “Prickle Point” into the search bar, wondering where it is and why, even though I grew up in the same valley, I’ve never heard of it.

After one full cup of coffee, my search is still fruitless, and the first stubborn knots of frustration tighten in my shoulders. Not because I can’t find it. Because, like it or not, I am going to have to ask Emmett for help after all.

A quick search through my inbox pulls up his phone number from the staff directory the studio sent me. I swore I’d never use it to contact him directly. But today, I cave.

I frown as my fingers tap across the screen of my phone.

Julia

Hi. It’s Julia. I don’t know if you’re awake yet, but when you have a moment, could you clarify the location of Prickle Point?

I toss my phone down and pad back to the kitchen to refill my coffee, irritated that I had to resort to asking him for help. When I get back to my seat, he’s already responded.

Emmett

Which Julia?

My eyes roll. What a douche.

Julia

The one who agreed not to tell her brother about your offseason shenanigans but who still could, at any moment, if the inclination strikes her.

Emmett

Blackmail. Nice. How very un-Silva of you.

I bristle at that. I am very Silva. I am kind. I’m just not… peppy the same way as my mom and brother.

Julia

Pretending you have too many Julias in your phone to keep track of? How very on-brand.

Emmett

Don’t worry. I have your contact card squared away now. And it’s very on-brand.

He sends a screenshot through. And as much as I hate myself for it… I smirk. The contact with my number below it reads: Julia Theo’s Hot Little Sister.

Julia

That’s so funny. I have you in my phone as Emmett the Guy Who Lost to Theo. Now quit dicking around and tell me where Prickle Point is.

Emmett

After a mean text like that? Unlikely.

I groan and glance up at the ceiling. I’m negotiating with a toddler.

Julia

Okay. I’ll just make my way to Stal Brandt. Spend some quality time with Leon and Tina. I bet they can tell me where it is.

Emmett

Well, they love you, so that would probably make their day.

Okay, that backfired. I thought he’d want to keep me as far away as possible from his family. And as much as I don’t hate the idea of inhaling a few more of those freshly baked cookies, time is of the essence.

Julia

Can you please help me be efficient about this? I don’t want Richard on my ass.

Emmett

I really hate the mental imagery that comes with that sentence.

Julia

Enough to help me?

Emmett

If you let me come with you, I could show you where it is.

Julia

No, thanks. Let me do my job, and I’ll let you do yours. You’ve helped me enough already.

Emmett

What’s my job?

Julia

To find a wife. Or girlfriend. Or whatever.

Emmett

That’s exactly what I’m trying to do right now.

My brows furrow as I blink at the screen. Does he mean that? I glance down at myself. Oversize Shania Twain T-shirt. Boy-short underwear. And prickly legs because shaving is just too much fucking work sometimes.