“For science, Brandt.”

I startle for a beat. I wasn’t expecting her to swap so seamlessly into using my preferred name. It’s more familiar than I like, and yet, I have no one to blame for that except myself and a moment of honest weakness.

My brows furrow. “Science?”

“Yeah. Don’t you remember? You told me that you’d get a boner for any woman bent over in front of you.”

I groan and tip my face up to the ceiling, regretting saying that all over again. Because I should have known Julia wouldn’t let it go. That she’d take it and run like a dog with a bone.

“But in a fascinating turn of events, I stood and watched you bend five different women over, and the front of those jeans didn’t bulge any more than usual.” She winks at me, and my jaw goes slack.

Which does nothing but draw an amused giggle from her. “So basically, the results of the experiment tell me that you, Emmett Brandt, are a big fat boner liar.” Her tone gleeful as she steps toward me and pats my shoulder. “It’s okay. This secret is safe with me too.”

I sit stiffly, preparing myself to crank up the charisma for the cameras.

After the first week of filming, I’m due for one-on-one time with a few of the women, according to production. The plan is for them to be led out to the love seat around the side of the bunkhouse, where Julia has staged an idyllic set for interviews. One by one, they’ll take a seat beside me, and we’ll have a supergenuine conversation in front of the camera.

Earlier today, they had me select a couple of daters for this segment. Richard picked a couple, too, because why wouldn’t he?

Teri leads the first woman out. My gaze lands on Cookie, and I’m kind of relieved, because she’s proven to be one of the most laid-back women in the group.

She’s freshened up since doing farm chores and is sporting wedge sandals and a pink-patterned halter dress that falls midthigh. A day in the sun has added a flush to her full cheeks, and there’s a happy bounce in her step as she approaches.

“All right, we’ve got Cookie here first.” Teri gives me a thumbs-up and backs away, drawing her fingers upward over her lips in a silent suggestion that I smile.

I force my lips up and say, “So tell me, because I’ve been dying to know… is your name actually Cookie?”

It’s awkward as hell, but to her credit, Cookie lets out a boisterous, genuine laugh that sets me at ease. “Yeah. I get that a lot. I love to bake, so my dad started calling me that, and it stuck.”

My lips twitch, because that’s actually kind of endearing, and Cookie has an easy, sunny way about her that I appreciate. Still, I’m not ready to use that term of endearment.

“So what’s your real name?”

“Kayla.”

“Can I call you Kayla?” I ask, because I don’t know if I can keep a straight face with the whole Cookie thing.

She slaps me playfully on the shoulder. “Oh, don’t be silly. Everyone calls me Cookie!”

I wince, but she breezes past it with her bubbly personality. We fall into conversation for several minutes, and I find it stress-free to talk to her. The camera doesn’t bother me as much as usual, and it’s only when Teri tells us that time is up that I register Julia’s presence.

Cookie departs with a quick hug right as Julia steps forward to hand me a bottle of water while the crew jumps into action preparing for the next woman.

Julia seizes the chance to taunt me when she whispers, “Imagine moaning Oh, Cookie.”

I shoot Julia a dirty look as I swipe the water bottle, only for her to close her eyes and make a soft moaning noise. “Yes, Cookie. Just like that, Cookie.”

My lips twitch as I try not to laugh. I shouldn’t laugh. But unfortunately for me, I find Julia Silva to be way funnier than I’d ever admit.

“Yeah, so I love murdery things.” Catherine sits across from me, looking ethereal in her flowing dress.

My brows jump in startled surprise. “Murder?”

“Ha! Like true crime. Podcasts, books, movies. I’m starting my own podcast delving into all the gory details of past cases. Possibly even tackling new ones.”

This woman looks too sweet to be into gory details. Golden hair, a sugary-sweet voice. I find the contrast funny and kind of relatable.

We spend our time talking about serial killers, and strangely I kind of dig it.

“My name is Madeline, but you don’t recognize me, do you?”

The woman with long, straight dark hair and matching thick brows smiles at me flirtatiously.

I rack my brain, trying to place her, but everything comes up blank.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t.”

“I went to school with your sister.”

“Oh. You’re local then. That’s cool. Which sister?”

“Parker.”

My forehead scrunches as a memory from the past dawns on me. “Madeline… from Parker’s English 30 class?”

In our family we called her Plagiarism Madeline because she stole Parker’s paper and tried to pass it off as her own. It had nearly gotten my sister suspended until she could prove that she’d emailed it to herself a few times over the course of working on it, just to save backups.

“Yes!” Madeline confirms, not a shred of embarrassment on her face. This chick is as delusional as I remember. Which makes the rest of our conversation uncomfortable as hell.

The only thing that gets me through it is knowing I’ll be able to eliminate her soon.

“I hated that movie.”

I grimace at Cynthia, trying to find some sort of common ground with a woman who appears to hate everything. I’ve tried music, travel, television, and sport, all of which seem to bring her zero joy.

“Do you have a favorite movie?”

She shrugs, a sour expression on her face as she stares down at her nails. “I prefer reading.”

“Cool. A favorite book then?”

“Ugh, I don’t know. Everything being published these days is so basic. Bad writing. Predictable storylines. I just keep rereading the classics.”

God, she’s fucking miserable.

“Maybe you should write a book?” I suggest dryly. “Put something up to snuff out there, ya know?”

Someone like Cynthia gets off on criticizing people for doing the things she’ll never be able to do herself. I know the type. Grew up with one coaching me at every rodeo.

She lifts one shoulder in a bored shrug. “Maybe.”

I look over at Julia—standing off camera, just behind a frowning Richard—and roll my eyes. Because talking to Cynthia is more painful than being gored by a bull.

All it does is make me realize how easy it was to open up to Julia that day in my kitchen.

And that I enjoy her company a whole lot more than I should.

OceanofPDF.com

OceanofPDF.com

CHAPTER 16

Julia

“SO, HOW WAS the first week?” my mom asks.

Her skin is soft and pale. An almost perfect match for the blond (but now trending gray) long bob that frames her face. She’s Norwegian and she looks it. I suspect her and my dad would have been a striking couple to see side by side. His dark features contrasted against her light ones.

I might have her button nose and round cheeks, but the rest of me is all Silva. Theo looks even more like our dad than I do.

I smile at my mom. Happy to see her. This visit has become one of my favorite parts of my week.

“Well?” She tucks a strand behind her ear as she eagerly waits for my answer. She’s seated on the wicker love seat across from me on the bricked-in patio behind her sprawling rancher, so I can’t escape the expectant glint in her eyes. I don’t want to lie to her—I hate lying to my mom—but I also don’t know what to say.